Page 3 of Where He Ended

My father glares down at me from his position by the desk. Finally, he shrugs dismissively. “Did you learn nothing in all those years of military school? Did I throw my money down the drain?” He slaps the stack of papers he was reading. One of them slips off, gliding to the floor like a leaf on the wind.

I glance at it, then at my father. “I worked myself to the bone in that place. I promise, nothing was wasted.”

He advances on me, his long legs pumping, arms swinging. It takes all I have not to jump to my feet. My instinct is to retreat from my father. It’s scarred in my marrow.

Silas looms over me, all of his frailness vanishing. “Listen to this advice,” he whispers around his scowl. “If we want to survive, we've got to be the ones who choose what happens next. Only a dead man bets his life on someone else's decisions.”

His words strike a chord in me. Giving him a sharp incline of my head, I rise. “It's late. Sorry to bother you.”

He crosses his arms, watching me as I leave. “We'll talk tomorrow. There's much to be done, tonight opened new doors—and with that comes more work.”

I let him have the final word. I always have, if he didn't just take it by force.

Exiting his study, there are fresh new concerns inserted into my head. I don't want to agree with him that I should stay away from Laiken, and I question his decision to keep me in the dark about Kara. But he's right about one thing:Only a dead man bets his life on someone else's decisions.

I know all about dead men.

---