Page 77 of Specter Bred

Hayes must have seen the realization on my face.

"Somewhere along the line, you forgot something."

"What’s that, Farm Boy?"

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"We aren't the only ones being evaluated. Sure, we're selling ourselves to the instructors. But the instructors are selling themselves to us, too."

Once again, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

One day, if we survived this program, we'd be trusting these people with our lives, following them into combat, and depending on them to bring us home. That wasn't a one-way relationship, and it never had been.

"I've noticed Cutter and Alvarez watching you, Maeve. They're interested. Stop wasting your time worrying about that asshole. Remember, he doesn't choose for anyone's unit but his own."

"I've told myself that a million times. Every time I said it, I hoped it would make me feel better," I said with a resigned sigh.

"But it doesn't?" Hayes asked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.

I looked up at him.

"No."

The confession felt like a weight lifted. Because if I were being honest with myself, the day Graves walked into our dorm and told us we didn't belong was the day he became the only captain I really wanted.

I'd always chased the hardest challenge and always pushed myself to achieve more. If someone told me something couldn't be done, I made it my mission to prove them wrong.

Without realizing it, at some point, becoming a Specter had stopped being enough.

I wanted to be his Specter.

"You know what the worst part is?" I said, laughing and shaking my head.

Hayes stayed quiet, waiting and watching.

"When Graves praises you, even the tiniest amount, it feels like ecstasy."

I stared at the floor, suddenly unable to make eye contact with him.

"Like pure, unfiltered sunlight. Like warmth after a winter so cold and so long, you forgot what it felt like."

My throat tightened.

"And then, in the same sentence, he can cut you down so low you feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out."

I laughed again, but there wasn't any humor in it. My next words came out softer, barely a whisper.

"Even though I hate him, I can't help respecting him."

I rubbed a hand over my face.

"And I can't stop wanting more."

Sammy still just sat, watching me, letting me get it off my chest.

"I want more praise. More attention. More proof that maybe, for one second, he sees something worthwhile when he looks at me."

I swallowed hard.