Chapter 153 – Breaking Ranks
Hazel
Jace’s silence isn’t new. It’s not like he’s ever been chatty, but this silence is different.
It’s not the quiet aloofness I’ve grown used to. What I think of as his commander-mode, all discipline and distance, that careful detachment he wears like armor. No. This is worse. This is him looking straight through me.
Avoiding my eyes during briefings. Turning away the second I enter the room. Cutting short drills if there’s only a few of us in attendance. He’s never done that before.
It’s so subtle that no one else seems to notice, but I do, and it gnaws at me.
I spend most of morning training half convinced I’ve done something wrong. Overstepped my bounds somehow, or disappointed him in some way. But there’s no reprimand. No tension in his jaw that says I’ve screwed up my form or disrespected a command.
He just won’t look at me. Like the mere act would unravel something inside of him.
Eli notices by midday. Which is later than I expect him to , because that bastard notices everything.
“Did you take him a rancid muffin?” he murmurs beside me, twirling a practice dagger like he’s bored out of his mind. “He’s practically fleeing the room every time you breathe in his direction.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, eyes fixed on the ring where Jace is sparring with Ronan. The rhythm of it is brutal. Sharp-footed and precise. I’d give anything to be in that ring. To catch even a second of his focus again.
“I didn’t give him a muffin.”
Eli leans closer, his voice syrupy. “You know, I told you he had a thing for you and then you went and broke his heart by not delivering baked goods. Why the fuck didn’t you go to his cabin? I saw you with the muffin in your hands.”
“You also told Mara I was born from a forest sprite’s wet dream. And I didn’t want to put him on the spot. He’ll make a move if he’s interested.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re a big old coward.”
I elbow him hard, but he doesn’t even flinch. The truth is, his words rattle me more than I should allow them to. Because part of me thinks he’s right.
The tension’s been crackling for weeks now. Stupid little moments I can’t stop replaying.
The way Jace’s voice would dip when he corrected my grip. How his fingers lingered a second too long on my wrist last week. The time I caught him watching me with a look that didn’t belong to a commander.
And now there’s suddenly nothing. The absence is deafening and I don’t like it.
During the afternoon drills, I snap. Nothing loud or dramatic, I’m not Eli. I just decide that I’m sick of being ignored. If he won’t look at me of his own free will, I’ll give him a reason to.
Ronan is overseeing combat sequences, pairing us off two by two, pushing us into mock duels designed to simulate real threat conditions. Mara makes a joke about Eli dying in the first thirty seconds because he’d be too busy running his mouth, and he pretends to faint on the grass, clutching his chest.
When my name is called, I step forward like my blood’s on fire.
I’m paired with Sera, a sharp, quick-footed Beta who usually gives me a run for my money. But not today. Today I move like I’ve been possessed.
Every block is a beat early. Every strike is sharper than it needs to be. I push forward relentlessly, parry after parry, forcing Sera back until her heel hits the edge of the ring and she trips.
Even then I don’t stop. I spin, drop to one knee, and slide the blunted training blade under her chin, eyes blazing. She blinks up at me breathlessly. “Jesus, Hazel.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, yanking the blade back and offering her a hand. She accepts it warily.
When I turn, Ronan nods once, arms folded. “That was good. You maintained control, just watch your over extension in the third pass.”
But it’s not his eyes I’m looking for. It’s Jace’s.
He’s standing at the edge of the ring, arms crossed, jaw tight. For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me again, but then he speaks.
“Footwork’s tighter,” he says curtly. “Good.”
That’s it. One clipped sentence delivered without a hint of a smile or a flash of eye contact. But my chest cracks open anyway.
I nod, trying to act casual. To breathe like I haven’t just been handed a single crumb of attention like it’s ambrosia. I turn to rejoin the others, heart hammering in my ribs.
And of course, Eli falls in step beside me.
“Stars, Haze,” he drawls. “I haven’t seen you fight like that since the last time someone kidnapped me. You seemed really, really invested in the outcome.”
“Don’t.”
“Why would that be? The praise? The scowl? Or just the fact that he spoke to you?”
I keep walking. He keeps needling.
“Listen, I get it,” he says. “Tall, grumpy, morally tormented. It’s a classic fantasy. Not all that different from my own, truth be told. But if you’re going to try and seduce him, at least admit it’s fun watching him unravel.”
“I’m not trying to seduce him.”
“No?” He cocks his head. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re one throaty moan away from making that man combust.”
I round on him. “Do you ever stop talking?”
He grins. “Do you ever stop pretending?”
That shuts me up. But not in the victorious way he’s hoping for. Because that last jab? It hits too close.
I am pretending. Every second of every day. Pretending I don’t watch Jace’s hands like they might reach for me. Pretending I don’t dream about his voice breaking on my name. Pretending the thought of him losing control doesn’t make my mouth go dry and my thighs press together under the sheets at night.
We finish the drills without further commentary. I go through the motions, but the whole time my body’s buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Or maybe it’s something more dangerous. Like hope.
Maybe Jace isn’t avoiding me because I’m crossing a line, but because he’s afraid he might do the same. Maybe Eli’s right.
Later, when we break for water, I catch Jace leaving the field early. No goodbyes, no usual debriefing. Just a storm of man in a tactical vest disappearing up the path like he’s got ghosts nipping at his heels.
He doesn’t look back as I watch him go.
There’s something feral in his walk. Shoulders hunched, fists tight, head down like he’s bracing for a blow and planning on returning it tenfold.
Eli, beside me, lets out a low whistle. “That boy’s got it bad.”
I ignore him. Because so do I.
And I don’t know which is worse, wanting someone I’m not supposed to… or wondering if maybe, just maybe, they want me back.
I lean on the fence post, bottle of water half-empty, watching the treeline where Jace disappeared.
A bird calls overhead. The wind lifts a stray lock of my hair and carries it across my cheek.
Eli glances sidelong at me. “You know,” he says, “For what it’s worth… I think he’s trying not to burn.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“He’s flammable, Haze. Has been for a while. You just haven’t seen it because you’ve been too busy trying not to catch fire yourself.”
“Is that your version of subtle encouragement?”
“It’s my version of prophecy,” he says breezily. “And unlike most oracles, my prediction isn’t cobbled together from bullshit and taking too many hallucinogenics. I’m an expert at studying human behavior and you two are going to combust sooner or later. The longer you wait, the hotter you’ll burn.”