Page 64 of Beyond Redemption

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, damn,” Zeke said, only half amused.

Naomi’s attention returned to me. “You staying above ground when they attack?”

“Of course,” I answered.

She nodded once, as if confirming something she’d already assumed. “I’ll coordinate with the General.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It was a relief to be here, but now…”

“Nuke proof,” Olive said, dazed.

They didn’t linger after that. Naomi moved for the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at Bodhi. “Get a good night’s rest. I’ll see you at the north wall at 0500.”

“Uh… Aye, ma’am.”

She and Zeke traded amused glances, and then they let themselves out.

Bodhi fell into the chair, speechless.

“You sure about this?” Olive asked, touching his arm.

He thought about it for a moment and then looked to her, scanning her face. Then he shared his decision. “She’s indisputably terrifying, but yeah. I’m sure. I can’t let any of those bastards get to you.”

I turned back to the counter, picking up the towel without needing it, my thoughts already shifting ahead, aligning everything we’d just confirmed into something usable.

A plan was in place. Now, we waited.

Chapter Twelve

Thomas

The first light of morning stretched thin across the compound, a pale wash that chipped away at the dark edges of nightfall. I walked the perimeter with my coffee in hand, the metal of the travel mug still warm against my palm, but the heat was fading faster than I was drinking it. Sleep hadn’t come easily, and when it had, it was a struggle. My body felt it in the way it always did after nights like that, tight across my shoulders, a dull pressure behind my eyes. But I’d learned a long time ago how to move through that kind of deprivation without letting it show. Admittedly, it was becoming more difficult as the years passed.

The compound was already awake in quiet ways. Not loud, not active as it was under the full light of day, but alive. A door opened somewhere behind me, hinges controlled enough not to echo. Footsteps moved along packed gravel. The low hum of a generator carried faintly through the air. Even the smell of my coffee wasn’t singular. It layered with everything else, the lingering scent of breakfast cooking in the commissary, oil from machinery, and of course the dust. Always there, coating the back of my throat, grinding between my teeth, collecting in the creases of my skin and the weave of my shirt.

I took another sip and found my way to a higher vantage point, letting my eyes move over the perimeter, noting what had changed since the night before. A new vehicle parked along the east side, rotations at the towers already in motion. WhoeverMarcel had in charge of overnight watch had done their job. Everything was as it should be, allowing my thoughts to drift.

My tour of the compound with my brothers had gone better than expected. For the most part, they tolerated my presence. Or, at least, seemed to. They hadn’t said it outright since the first night. They didn’t need to. The hesitation to look at me, the pause before acknowledging any point I made, the way conversations redirected just enough to avoid stepping into anything that might lead to more difficult truths. It was all there, sitting just beneath the surface, waiting for someone to light a fire beneath it.

I understood it. I understood them, more than they probably wanted. That didn’t make it easier to be the target for their anger, their frustration, their hurt. Every decision I’d made had been thought through as far as time allowed. I’d left emotion out of it. That was where their issue lay. There had been a path forward to keep Olive safe, narrow but clear enough that I hadn’t hesitated. I’d followed it because that was what I did. I assessed, I chose, and I moved. It had kept them alive more times than they would ever know. This time was no different, except for what it cost.

I’d taken that on knowing they wouldn’t understand or even accept it and acknowledging they might never. That had been part of the math too, and they were angry with me for that as well. Still, there was a piece of me that wished they could see it the way I had. Not to justify it or to ask for anything in return, but to understand that it hadn’t been carelessness or selfishness. It hadn’t been betrayal. It was just the only option left that had the least risk.

I finished the coffee and adjusted my grip on the mug as I turned toward the western side of the compound. Sound hit me before the sight did. Not loud, but distinct. Repetition. Impact.Breath pushed past exertion. Then I heard Naomi’s voice barking commands and insults at whatever incompetent recruit was standing in front her.

I followed her voice without breaking stride, rounding the edge of a long structure before the open space came into view. A group of recruits moved through a series of drills under Naomi’s supervision, the line uneven in places, some keeping pace, others already lagging. She stood off to the side at first, watching, her arms crossed loosely, her attention fixed on every misstep.

“Again,” she growled, her voice carrying. “You only slow down when you’re dead. Pick it up!”

They did. Most of them.

Bodhi stood out immediately, not because he was ahead, but because he wasn’t. He pushed through the same sequence as the others—movement drills, transitions, positioning—but his timing was a fraction behind, his footing off just enough to cost him momentum every few steps. Sweat had already soaked through his standard issue tan T-shirt, darkening the fabric along his spine, under his arms, and making a V down his chest. He was unquestionably in shape from basketball, and yet almost clumsy in his exhaustion.

Still, he didn’t stop.

Naomi moved in closer, stepping into his space without hesitation.

“You think anyone attacking that door you’re so worried about is going to wait for you to catch your breath?” she seethed.