Page 60 of Specter Bred

I looked up.

It took me all of two seconds to realize what she meant. Alvarez and Cutter. She wanted me to back the fuck off long enough for her to prove she belonged here and eventually earn a place in one of their units instead of mine.

Jealousy hit me with an intensity I had no fucking business feeling.

I pictured Archer under Alvarez’s command, taking his orders and reporting to him after missions. He would decide where she trained, what role she filled, which operations she ran, and how far he was willing to push her. She would learn to trust his judgment in the field, to look to him when everything went to shit and follow his orders without hesitation because her life depended on it.

I hated every single part of that.

Then my mind shifted to Cutter, and the jealousy sharpened into something far more possessive. I pictured him training her at the range, stepping in behind her when her stance needed correcting. His hand would settle on her hip to shift her weight while the other adjusted her shoulder, his body close to hers as he leaned down to give instructions in her ear.

My teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

There would be nothing inappropriate about it. I knew that better than anyone. Physical contact was part of training, and I’d put my hands on hundreds of soldiers over the years to correct a stance, demonstrate a hold, inspect an injury, or drag someone out of danger.

Knowing that did absolutely nothing to quiet the possessive alpha instinct roaring to life in my chest at the thought of another man putting his hands on her.

The thought of Cutter touching her made my jaw ache, and imagining Alvarez commanding her wasn’t any better. I hated the idea of either man earning her trust, shaping her into a Specter, or becoming the captain she instinctively looked to when a mission went to shit. Having someone else responsible for her successes and failures was bad enough, but trusting another man with whether she made it home alive?

That was fucking unbearable.

I trusted Cutter and Alvarez with my life, and logically, I knew Archer would be in capable hands with either of them. This had nothing to do with whether they could train her or keep her alive.

I’d spent months trying to drive this woman out of my program, yet the second she suggested finding a place under another captain, every possessive instinct I had came roaring to the surface.

Archer wasn’t mine.

But fuck, I was just now realizing how badly I wanted her to be.

She continued talking before I could examine those desires too closely.

"They respect your opinion," she said, though her voice had lost some of its usual bite.

The next words came quieter. They sounded less like an accusation and more like a plea.

"And every time you single me out... every time you treat me like a liability... every time you make me the example..."

She swallowed.

“You are destroying my chances. Because they'll never want me, no matter how good I am, if you've already convinced them I'm worthless.”

She paused again, taking another deep breath.

"If I don't make a Specter team, I can live with that."

Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

"But I want it to be because I wasn't good enough. Not because you never gave me a chance."

Chapter 8: Sammy Hayes

“C’mon, Firecracker. Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I shot her a look as we dragged our two-hundred-pound casualty dummies down the course.

“Farm Boy! Teacup! Less talking, more moving!” Grizzly barked through the megaphone.