Chapter 39 The Quiet Between Us
Lyanna
At some point, the new road wasn’t really a road.
It was a narrow cut through the forest where wheels had once passed. The wagons lurched constantly, climbing over roots and sliding through mud. Branches scraped the canvas overhead in long, dragging motions that made the whole wagon shudder.
By midday, everything hurt.
My leg throbbed in steady pulses that crawled up my hip and settled somewhere deep in my spine. Every jolt drove the ache deeper.
And the nausea was worse.
The smell of wet leather, horses, and damp canvas clung to the air. I breathed slowly through my mouth to keep the sickness from rising.
Across from me, two of the other omegas were talking.
“This road is cursed,” one complained, bracing herself as the wagon lurched again.
“I fear we might not make it to the border,” the other muttered.
I kept my gaze lowered.
Didn’t acknowledge a single word.
The wagon bounced violently over a buried root.
Pain shot through my injured leg.
I clenched my teeth.
The caravan ahead began to slow.
“Hold—hold, damn it!” a driver shouted somewhere ahead. “Too tight—give space!”
Movement rippled through the line of wagons—drivers shifting in their seats, guards calling out instructions, boots hitting the ground.
When the wagon finally rolled to a stop, the sudden stillness made my stomach lurch.
I climbed down carefully, ignoring the way my leg protested the moment my weight settled on it.
The clearing ahead of us was small, barely wide enough for the wagons to manoeuvre. The ground had been churned into mud by the wheels.
One of the supply crates had been dragged down and left beside the path.
A guard stood nearby.
“You—move that to the second wagon,” he said, jerking his chin toward it.
I didn’t look at him.
Didn’t respond.
A beat passed.
“Did you hear me?” he snapped.
Nothing.
I stepped forward as if I had simply noticed the crate on my own.
The delay was enough to irritate him.
The crate was heavier than it looked.
The first lift sent a wave of dizziness through my head.
I paused, steadying myself.
Don’t be weak.
I tried again.
The crate rose an inch before my arms trembled.
A sharp crack sounded beside me—
His palm slammed down against the wood.
“Move,” he barked, voice sharper now. “Faster.”
I said nothing.
Did nothing but tighten my grip and try again.
The world tilted slightly.
Black spots flickered at the edges of my vision.
My injured leg buckled.
The crate slipped.
I barely caught it before it crashed into the mud.
“Gods—” the guard grabbed my arm roughly, jerking me upright. “Are you useless or just ignoring orders?”
His grip tightened when I didn’t respond.
I let my head turn toward him slowly.
Blank.
Then I raised my hands.
I cannot hear.
He frowned.
“What?”
I repeated it, more deliberately.
I cannot hear. I cannot speak.
Understanding hit a second later.
“...You’re deaf?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
I didn’t react to the word.
Just held his gaze, quiet and patient.
He exhaled sharply, irritation shifting rather than fading.
“Fine. Fine.”
He stepped back, then gestured—slow, exaggerated, crude.
Move. Crate.
I nodded once.
Bent again.
My arms trembled immediately.
Behind me, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Of all the useless—”
He reached for me again.
Then stopped.
The shift in the air was subtle.
But immediate.
I turned.
Elias stood a few paces away.
I hadn’t seen him approach.
His gaze moved once—from the guard’s hand near my arm to my face.
Then he spoke.
Voice sharp.
“Step back.”
The guard straightened instantly, releasing me as if burned.
“Commander,” he said, stepping away.
Elias didn’t acknowledge him.
He looked at the crate.
Then at me.
Sit.
Not a suggestion.
I hesitated. Was he showing preference in public?
He lifted one brow.
I sat.
The nearby soldiers suddenly found other things to focus on.
Elias crossed the short distance between us and crouched beside the crate.
Up close, the quiet intensity he carried felt… heavier.
His eyes moved over my face.
Not lingering.
Then—
You nearly dropped that on your foot.
I answered without thinking.
I caught it.
His gaze flicked briefly to the crate.
Then back to me.
Barely.
I leaned back against the wagon wheel.
You’re watching closely. Someone might say something
Someone has to.
The corner of my mouth twitched before I could stop it.
His eyes dropped briefly to my leg.
Is it worsening?
I feel better than before.
That does not mean you should carry crates.
I was not given a choice.
His gaze lifted back to mine.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Up close, the details of him were impossible to ignore.
Rain had darkened the ends of his hair, leaving several loose strands across his forehead. Mud streaked one sleeve where he had clearly been working alongside the men.
He looked less like a distant commander—
And more like a man who had been riding and working since dawn.
His hands moved again, slower this time.
You are pushing too hard.
I lifted my hands in response.
You are watching too closely. We have been over this.
His mouth curved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Something quieter.
More restrained.
His next signs were deliberate.
Part of my duty.
To watch omegas unload cargo?
To notice when someone is about to collapse.
I was not about to collapse.
His gaze held mine.
You were.
I didn’t look away. There was something about being able to argue with him.
Signed slowly.
And yet I am still talking to you.
Something shifted then.
Subtle.
But undeniable.
The space between us felt… smaller.
Elias shifted slightly closer, his attention dropping to my leg.
His hand hovered near my ankle.
Close enough that I felt the heat of him in this cursed weather.
He didn’t touch.
But the absence of it felt intentional.
His gaze lifted again.
You are pale.
The road is unpleasant.
A pause.
Then—
That is not the word I would use.
What word would you use?
A beat.
Then one word.
Horrid.
A quiet breath of amusement slipped out of me before I could stop it.
His eyes sharpened slightly at the sound.
Slightly surprised.
I resisted the urge to clasp my hands over my mouth and pretended not to notice instead.
He straightened.
Sit here.
I tilted my head.
I have work to do.
His expression didn’t shift.
It is an order.
Of course.
He rose.
For a moment, I thought he would leave.
Instead, he bent and gripped the crate.
He lifted it in one smooth motion.
The wood didn’t even creak under the shift.
A few of the guards glanced over.
Elias didn’t look at them.
“If she can’t carry it,” he said, voice even, “assign someone who can.”
The crate landed in the second wagon with a dull, controlled thud.
“No delays.”
“—Yes, Commander,” the guard said quickly, already moving.
Elias didn’t wait to watch him obey.
The guards nearby suddenly became very busy with anything else.
When he returned, he paused beside me.
You should eat.
I shook my head.
No appetite.
That was not a suggestion.
You give many of those.
You ignore most of them.
Only the unreasonable ones.
His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned and walked away.
I remained where I was, leaning against the wagon wheel—
And pretending my pulse had not quickened during that entire exchange.
The caravan resumed moving not long after.
The trail grew steeper as the afternoon wore on.
By the time the sun began sinking behind the trees, even the guards had grown quiet.
I sat in the back of the wagon, watching the forest slide past.
At some point, I felt it again.
That awareness.
Slow. Tingling.
I turned slightly.
Elias rode several wagons ahead.
“Keep the spacing tight,” he was saying to a passing scout. “No stragglers.”
His posture was relaxed in the saddle.
But his eyes—
Were on me.
Not casually.
Watching.
The moment our gazes met—
He looked away.
Just like that.
As if he had never been looking at all.
I leaned back against the wooden wall of the wagon.
And ignored the way something warm.
And deeply inconvenient.
Tightened in my chest.