"That's exactly what you're going to do."
The silence that follows is deafening.
I can feel the rage building in my chest. Hot. Suffocating.
"You don't get to decide that" I say. My voice is quiet now. Dangerous.
"You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do."
Silas takes another step toward me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
"I'm not telling you what you can and can't do," he says. His voice is soft. But there's steel underneath.
"I'm telling you what's going to keep you alive."
"And right now, that means staying here."
I open my mouth to argue. To scream at him. To tell him he's wrong.
But the words won't come.
Because deep down, I know he's right.
I'm not trained.
I don't know how to fight.
I don't know how to move in a firefight.
And if I go with them, I'll be a liability. A distraction. Something they have to protect instead of someone who can help.
But that doesn't make it any easier to accept.
"I can't just sit here," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I can't."
Silas's expression softens. Just a fraction.
He reaches out. Cups my face in his hands.
"I know," he says quietly.
"But you have to trust me."
"I will bring her back."
"I promise."
I stare up at him, tears burning in my eyes.
I want to believe him.
I want to trust him.
But the fear is too strong. The guilt too heavy.
"What if you can't?" I whisper.
Silas's thumb brushes across my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
