For a moment, Priest just stares down at it. Then, slowly, with a snarl in his throat, he rips it open with blood-slick fingers and tosses a stick into his mouth. His jaw starts to move.
He doesn’t look at me again. Doesn’t say another word. Just pushes past Arsen and Raze toward the front of the truck. Arsen exhales hard, then crouches in front of me.
“Chill the fuck out, Arlo. You’re going to get yourself killed acting like this.”
I shove his hand away. “Good.” And I sit here, ribs aching, head bleeding, hate gnawing through my lungs.
Fucking hell.
My fist hits the wall hard enough to rattle the pipes. Rust rains down from the ceiling, the scent of mildew and old blood thick in the air. The vest slides off my shoulders and hits the floor with a wet slap. I rip off what’s left of my shirt, blood streaking down my ribs.
“What the fuck?” Raze storms in behind me, his voice bouncing off the grooved metal. “We lost seven men back there! Seven!”
My ears ring too loud. My hands won’t stop shaking.
He steps closer. “Priest! You’re no good to any of us if you’re dead. Get patched up or I swear I’ll do it myself with a fucking blade.”
I lift my head, the gum in my mouth has turned bitter. “Keep talking, and I’ll use your jaw as a sheath.”
“You can try.” He steps back just enough to evade my reach. “You’re too slow. Bleeding too much.”
Arsen slams through the door, a comm unit clutched in his hand. “We’ve got a problem.” He glances at my side, at the blood soaking through the bandage I didn’t bother tying off. “A big one.”
“Bigger than missing a goddamn tracker on Lev?” Raze mutters, kicking over a crate.
Arsen’s eyes flick toward me. “It was activated when he died. Sterling knew we’d come. He knew we’d kill him.”
I stop mid-motion, staring at the floor. The words slice somewhere deep, far past the wound in my side. Lev made a choice. I honored it. End of story.
I grab a med kit off a crate, slump against the wall, and start stitching. Welcoming the burn of antiseptic. I can’t get my fucking head to shut up. The noise is constant, crawling under my skin. The smell of gunpowder, blood, and smoke. I hear her voice over all of it. The way she said she wanted me to die. The way she meant it.
I feelnothing and I feeleverything.
At the samefuckingtime.
The ache in my chest isn’t pain—it’s pressure. A sick, heavy pulse that shouldn’t exist. It crawls up my throat until I’m ready to rip it out with my hands.
“Priest, look at me,” Arsen says. “Alistair and Dalton’s bunker was hit, too.”
Raze curses. “Any word?”
Arsen shakes his head. “Nothing. They’re either captured or dead.”
My breath stutters once, then steadies. “If they’re dead,” the needle slides through my skin, “that’s two fewer problems.”
“You think this is about your fucking vendetta? You think this ends with you proving a point?” His voice ricochets off the metal walls. “We lose the South, Priest, we lose everything. The Commanders, the line, the legacy—gone. You might not give afuck about hierarchy, but too many Sovereigns have died to let it burn.”
I stand, lighting a cigarette between my lips, blood seeping through the fresh stitches. “You want to worship the system that raised you like a fucking dog? Go ahead. I’m not dying for it.”
“That’s your fucking problem. You don’t fight for anything bigger than yourself. If Alistair and Dalton are dead, and the fucking Council thinks you’re responsible, this entire war lands on your shoulders. Sterling’s already got everyone eating out of his fucking hands, believing his shit. Every Sovereign we lost today, every corpse in the South—they’ll hang it on you.”
“Let them.”
“Jesus Christ,” Raze mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gone, man. You’re fucking gone.”
“You don’t get it,” Arsen snarls. “If your name goes down as a traitor, the rest ofusburn with you. Reinforcements won’t come. The South and North will fall, and the West and East will divide the scraps going to war with Sterling.”
“So send a fucking message, then. Call the Council. Beg for your reinforcements from other sections.” The walls breathe. The air hums. That goddamn static crawls through my skull until I can’t tell what’s real and what’s memory.
