Chapter 10: The Ones Who Carry Us Home
979 Words
The fire in Pill’s office had burned low, casting long shadows across the far wall. Papers and maps still cluttered the table, but the room was quiet now. Hollow with what had been said. Heavy with what hadn’t.
All the Alphas had gone.
Sofia hadn’t meant to stay this long—but now that the stillness had settled, she couldn’t make herself leave. She stood against the far wall, watching her brother—her Alpha—rub a hand over his face, exhaustion carved into the lines of his features.
He looked up.
“You’ve always been the stealthiest out of all of us,” he said, voice low. Not surprised. Just… seeing her.
She stepped forward, slowly, then took the seat across from him. Her fingers fidgeted once in her lap, then stilled.
“They’re coming,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She didn’t ask about the army. Or the maps. Or the probability of death.
What she needed was something else.
“Let me fight.”
Pill’s expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened.
She leaned forward. Her voice stayed level, but only just.
“I’ve been going crazy, Pill. Watching. Waiting. Training until my hands split open. And everyone’s doing something—preparing, planning, leading. And I’m just… here. Breathing like it’s enough.”
Her voice cracked—just a little.
“I can fight. You know I can. I’m fast. Strong. I shift cleaner than any of the Moon children. I’ve trained for this my entire life—so let me do something with it. Don’t put me on the sidelines because I’m the youngest or because you think I’ll break.”
Her heart pounded—heavy with hope.
“I won’t.”
She met his eyes, and this time, she didn’t flinch.
“I need this. More than anything. I need to know I did something when it mattered.”
Sofia’s words hung in the room like a blade suspended in air.
Pill didn’t answer right away.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, hands clasped. A slow breath left him, but his eyes stayed on her.
“I remember the first time I realized you weren’t scared of anything,” he said. “You were eight. I threw you into the deep end of the pool and thought for sure you’d cry or scream. But you came up laughing—daring me to do it again.”
His voice was soft. Something close to broken.
“You’ve always run headfirst into the places the rest of us hesitate. Always been the bravest. And maybe that’s why this is the hardest thing I’ve had to decide.”
Sofia sat perfectly still, the hope in her chest beginning to ache.
“I’m not putting you on the front,” he said at last. “I know you’re not weak. Believe me, I know. I wouldn’t put you where I’m putting you if I didn’t trust you.” His voice was quiet, but thick.
He ran his hand through his hair while her eyes searched his, looking to understand.
“You’ll be guarding the lower level,” he said. “The children. The elders. The injured. If the front lines fall, they fall back here. You’re their last line.”
Silence.
Sofia blinked. “The children.”
“The heart of our people,” Pill corrected. “The ones we fight for. If the enemy reaches them… everything else will already be lost. That’s when you step in.”
She didn’t answer.
But her face spoke for her. The hurt. The sting of being seen as safe, not strong. As trusted, but not trusted with the front.
“You wanted glory,” Pill said gently. “But I need something more than that. I need someone who won’t panic. Who sees everything. Who’s smart enough to hold the line when the rest of us are bleeding out.”
Sofia stared at the table. At the constellation of pins and red flags that mapped out a war she wouldn’t get to fight in the way she had expected.
“Why me?” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“Because you’re the fiercest of us. Because you run toward the fire. Because I know you’ll die before you let anyone in that room fall.”
Her throat tightened.
“And because,” he added, softer now, “you’re not just a weapon, Sofi. You’re our heart. And I couldn’t live with myself if I put you on the front and lost you there.”
That landed.
It wasn’t a dismissal.
It was love. As heavy as it was holy.
He reached across the table and tapped the maps. “I can’t be in every room. But I can sleep better knowing you’ll be in that one.”
Sofia looked at him, the fight still flickering in her eyes. But it was quieter now.
She nodded. Not quite sure if it was acceptance or surrender.
“Okay.”
Pill gave a small smile. “Good. I’ll send someone to brief you in the morning.”
She stood. Hands heavy. Still wishing—quietly, stubbornly—for something else.
But she would take this.
Because the alternative was doing nothing. And doing nothing would break her.
As she reached the door, Pill spoke again.
“Every position in war is vital, Sofi. But the ones who stand at the end?” He paused. “They’re the ones who carry us home.”
“I’m not sure I’m enough for that.”
Her voice was barely a breath.
“But I’ll try.”
She didn’t look back.
But her fingers tightened around the doorknob.
And when she stepped into the hall, the weight of her assignment pressed down on her like armor.
She would not fail them.
Not here.
Not at the end.
- Writer
