Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,39

he crushes me instead, crushes my people, my home, and all I can think about is hurting him. I used to want to hurt him for all the ways he’d hurt me, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore. I—I’m afraid of what it will take to stop him.” She paused, realizing she’d pulled his hands into hers and now squeezed them to her chest, realizing also that this was the first time they’d spoken since Oran had confessed that he loved her. “I’m afraid of what I’ll do to stop him. I’m afraid of who I’ll be afterward.”

This time, Oran’s answer came more slowly. He pursed his lips, and his brow furrowed before he spoke again. “When you’re in command, you have the power to create change in the world around you. That’s what power is: potential for change. But you can’t create change without also changing yourself. And you can’t change this world without making decisions that will haunt you forever.”

Caledonia realized he was talking as much about himself as he was about her. All the decisions he’d made as a Fiveson were still with him. He’d done things she never wanted to imagine, and they would stay with him for the rest of his life. It mattered that he had changed course and now fought against the structure he once upheld. And it also didn’t matter at all. There was too much blood on his hands to ever be rid of it.

There was blood on her hands, too. Not because she’d done the killing but because she’d been in charge. She bore the weight of responsibility.

“The truly terrible thing, Cala, is that you are probably more prepared to be the one to lead us than ever. Because you know what it feels like to lose like this and it hasn’t broken you yet. Half of war is just enduring hell.”

It felt true. Every time Caledonia thought a moment would send her to her knees, she found a reason to stand up again. She’d been enduring hell since the night she met Lir. Surely, she could endure it a little longer. Besides, if she stepped down now, someone else would stand up in her place. Someone like Pisces or Sledge would have to shoulder this burden.

“No good options,” Caledonia said softly.

“No good options,” Oran repeated, watching her with a mournful expression. “And there will be even fewer tomorrow.”

Caledonia gave a grim nod. It would take them more than a day to reach the rendezvous coordinates, but the point remained: the number of ships that joined them now would determine her next move. Yesterday, she’d been hurtling toward the moment of sailing to the Holster and attacking Lir. Tomorrow, she might have only a handful of ships.

“But bad options have never slowed you down for long.”

Two sharp bangs on the hatch had both of them on their feet before the door swung open. It was Pisces. The news was on her face before she spoke, and Caledonia was reaching for her discarded gun belt when Pisces said a single word: “Bullets.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The ship was a black point near the horizon on a course to intercept the Luminous Wake.

“Ready missiles, Captain?” Pine stood with one foot hoisted on the rail, a hand braced against his knee. He’d been on deck since the escape and though the rasp in his voice was evidence of the long night, his eyes were as sharp as ever.

The repairs to the Luminous Wake had been hurried. They’d sealed two weakened points in the forward hull and patched a long gouge on the starboard side, but every repair left them vulnerable.

Caledonia nodded and Pine shoved off to ready their weapons, leaving her with Pisces and Oran.

“Think it’s a trap?” Pisces asked, eyes narrowing on the approaching vessel.

Caledonia studied the ship. When Bullets sailed alone, it was almost always a trap. A single ship was a lure, meant to draw you close before its friends circled in for the kill. It was how Pisces had been captured in Caledonia’s absence. And how they’d lost the Mors Navis.

“Could be.” The location was not ideal for such a maneuver, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still the case.

“Could be a scout,” Oran suggested.

The ship was moving in fast, quickly closing the distance between them. Though slower than an Assault Ship, the vessel was ringed in those gruesome spikes, each studded with dead bodies. Caledonia’s instincts said it wasn’t a trap and the sooner she gave the order to engage