Page 35 of Sienna Rossi: Beyond Shattered Trust

“We don’t know if she can heal you,” Jayce remarks icily. “She can’t heal everything.”

“We could test it,” I suggest, looking into his sharp green eyes.

“By having me attack your barrier again? It’s a no.”

“Jayce-”

“It’s ‘Captain’,” he says dismissively, reminding me of back when I was put into his division.

“Captain, I think-”

“We’ve survived centuries without magic shields. We don’t need you bleeding for us. We will survive without you.” His words cut deep as he stands up, not bothering to wait for a reply before he walks off and leaves the barracks, leaving only the blast of cold from outside behind, the door slamming shut with a resounding snap.

His words feel like a rejection. As if trying to prove they don’t need me – that he doesn’t need me. But I’m not delusional; he’s worried about losing me – again, even if he keeps me at arm’s length.

I stare at the door that slammed shut after him.

Mikhail smirks. “When emotions cloud judgment, it makes everything so much harder,” he remarks, mocking amusement dripping from his voice.

“I am in agreement with Jayce. Mikhail, what do you think?”

“Well, perhaps since I am not family, I do not see it like that. There is a risk, yes. But every single man and woman here is risking their life. If we have the means to make things safer, then why not take it?”

“Exactly. No one’s life is worth more than others,” I say firmly.

“You are right…” Grandpa Al sighs.

And yet, you felt your father’s life was worth more than yours, Jayce’s cold words slip into my mind.

If you still wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, why leave? I ask through the mind-link.

He doesn’t reply, and I resist a small smile. It’s not much, but he’s communicating; it’s a start.

“Look, I can experiment. Maybe I can try to implement some kind of deflection when attacked; imagine a giant rubber ball that everything can bounce off,” I try.

“You can do that?” Mikhail asks.

“I can try.”

“This would mean you would have to stay here,” Grandpa Al grunts.

“It is war, and we need to do what is needed,” Mikhail says, his sharp eyes fixed on Grandpa Al. “But I will leave this to you, Second-in-Command. I just hope you make the decision wisely.” Mikhail leans forward, gathering up the reports before he stands, his eyes flitting to me for a moment before he leaves.

And then it’s just Grandpa Al and me. Grandpa Al sighs as he lights himself a cigarette and sits back in the chair; it creaks under his weight as his eyes burn into me.

“You do love to put yourself in danger,” he remarks, motioning for me to take a seat. “I think that fucker Ahren should try it.”

“If we look at the bigger picture, Ahren is needed in England; he is the Alpha,” I say softly.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain scar-faced Westwood?” he raises a bushy brow, and I can’t help but laugh.

“More than one has a scar on his face, but no, I’m not saying all of this is because of him. If Jayce returns to England and I have to stay here, I will.” I wonder if he’s still listening.

“But you can’t for long either,” Grandpa Al reminds me pointedly.

My heat.

I sigh. “I know, but I think I can help, really help, but I want to make sure I have consent from the leaders of this outpost.”