Page 82 of Ashes of Honor

“My commitment to you and our family is everything, Yasmin. But my commitment out there … to Amaia.” Yasmin flinched at my words and I corrected myself, clearing my throat.It was bigger than the two of us. She had to understand. “To The Compound—it’s just as important to me. Fulfilling my duty is what lets you make this a home. It’s what ensures you, the woman I love endlessly, and our child, can survive. Can thrive. Grow old.Thisis the best way I can show you I am committed to us.”

“I told Amaia once not to ask me to choose between you and her, and now I’m asking you the same. Because if you make me choose, I’ll lose a part of myself. I’d choose you and our family every time, but it would break my soul to lose her. She’s not just my general, Yasmin, she’s my family too. This isn’t about choosing one over the other. It’s about honoring both commitments. Because protecting her and The Compound is what allows me to protect you, too.”

“She has her own family now,” Yasmin said, her voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. My woman was loud and joyful—radiant with a kind of life that painted my world in color. This muted version of her was almost unbearable. I nearly gave in. Ready to give it all up if only it meant I could see one more glimpse of her smile.

I met her sad charcoal eyes, steady despite the storm raging inside me. “And yet she’s never made me feel as though I’m not a part of it.”

Her gaze softened. Before I could say anything else, she took a step closer, lips pressing against mine. The weight of the world fell away at the touch of her warm hands caressing the sides of my face.

Yasmin pulled back enough to take me in, fingers brushing the edge of the vest of my uniform. A hesitant brush of skin, voiceless but aching to be understood. I took a step back. The chill air filled the space where her warmth had been. I didn’t linger on it. I couldn’t—not now.

The battlefield was ready. Every trap, every defense, exactly as my general requested. Right now, it was time to walk into the fire.

I moved toward the door, glancing at the light of my life one last time. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

The words were for her as much as they were for me. “You’d better,” she said. Her voice was steady, but the fear in her eyes betrayed what she wanted me to see.

Glancing toward the girls in the corner, I offered them a small nod. For Yasmin, for Amaia, for all of them—I’d see this through.

Amaia

The room was heavy, soaked in silence and barely veiled hostility. Good. Let them sit in it. I stood at the center of the room, gaze sweeping over them. Generals, mayors, opportunists—it didn’t matter the title they held. They were all here because they wanted something from me, and I wasn’t about to beg for their cooperation. I glanced out the window of the broken hinged door. Suckerpunch sat guard outside, our first alert if this was going to go south from the outside.

Finley leaned forward, a sneer tugging at her lips. “Oh, wonderful, a suicide mission. I thought you at least had a plan. Ego’s big enough,” she mumbled.

I flashed her a grin. “Oh, I have a plan. But if you’re too short-sighted to see past your own death, I won’t waste my breath.”

Isabella Everhart snorted from her seat, boots kicked up on the table, spinning a dagger like it was an extension of her hand. “Big talk, Amaia. You sure your head’s not too heavy for that crown you’re trying to wear?”

“Try it on sometime, Isabella,” I shot back, my tone sweet with teasing venom. This was the banter that bonded us together during the first war. “But fair warning, it’s got a nasty habit of crushing people who don’t deserve it.”

“Hey, Finley, you should go try it on,” Isabella jested, her comrades chuckling in response.

“Don’t make me kill you,” Finley rolled her eyes, tone light, but the sinister sparkle in her icy eyes made it clear that it was anything but.

“Aw, if only you had the chance. I’m sitting right here.” Isabella’s voice dripped with amusement.

“Bitch fight,” someone chuckled off to the left of me. “Hot.”

“This is a waste of time,” another called out from across the room. It was barely audible, coming from the back, but it was enough to spark a ripple of doubt around the room.

Pockets of discontent bloomed in every corner of the room. Finley and Isabella’s bickering became background noise. My chest clenched as I fought to steady myself. Looking around the dusted, dilapidated old diner, catching the faces that stared back at me—some with clear disdain, some indifferent, others tired. Exhaustion was evident in the lines wearing their faces and the heavy bags beneath their empty eyes. These were supposed to be easy allies, supposed to believe in this cause. But as I stood there, their voices blurred together, and I just felt … small.

You can do this, Elliot’s voice tickled my mind.Stay the course. Half of them only wish to give you a hard time, but intend to follow anyway.

I found him across the room, his gaze locked on mine, a peppered beard now framing his withered face. A silent nod. A push forward.

How the fuck had any of this become my responsibility? When did the torch pass to me to lead a rebellion that had been doing just fine without me? For someone who thrived off confidence solid as stone, it wavered. It felt like a mirage. Something built off fragile hopes and piss-poor excuses for dreams.

I’d done what I could. Laid it all out for them. Everything we knew about Ronan’s forces, the camps, the programs, his desire to squash a rebellion before it could take root—before it had the chance to become a revolution. And still, the doubt swirled. The desire to persevere when the odds were stacked against us was nonexistent.

They were too comfortable being complacent.

“You’re telling us there are thousands of soldiers stationed across the territories, and somehow, not a single one of us has noticed?” The accusation came from a man in the middle of the room, his voice sharp, cutting through the chatter.

“Yeah,” Hunter replied, his tone maddeningly nonchalant.

“Where they’re stationed is none of your concern,” I said firmly, meeting the man’s glare. What I couldn’t tell him is that Hunter’s rebellion had grown within the troops of others. Most of his soldiersweretheirs—fighters who had quietly defected over the years, granting small mercies where they could. The rest were recruits from Transient Nation. “Not until we have confirmation that you intend to fight.”

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