✨ New chapters & titles every Tuesday & Friday
💬 Join the community on WhatsApp, Telegram & Reddit!
📌 Tip: Add galnovels.com to your Home Screen so you always have the real site 🌟
Chapter 877:
🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙
He did not step out and drag her inside. He did not touch her. He simply inclined his head toward the office behind him.
“Two minutes,” he said. “Then you go to barracks.”
She should have kept walking.
Instead, because she was tired, angry, and apparently determined to make her life impossible, she stepped past him into the dim room.
𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗺
The door clicked shut behind her.
He did not kick the lock into place. He did not crowd her against the door. He moved to the side with the careful stiffness of a man whose body no longer obeyed rage, leaving a clear path between her and the exit.
That was worse, somehow.
It felt like a choice.
The office was small, private, and severe. A desk. A wall map. A green-shaded lamp throwing hard light across a stack of folders. No softness. No refuge. Only strategy.
Caroline folded her arms over her chest. “If this is another medical order, I already know how you say you care.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not medical.”
He nodded toward the desk.
A single sheet lay there, stamped with tomorrow’s date.
Caroline didn’t move at first.
Jarrod’s voice was low. “Read it.”
She crossed the room and looked down.
The top line was simple.
Voluntary Advanced Stress Event: Night Terrain Confidence Course.
Below it was a dense block of procedural language. Optional participation. Candidate choice. Waiver required. Wet obstacle transition. Blind navigation. Elevated rope traverse. Simulated casualty extraction. Live instructor evaluation.
Her stomach tightened.
She looked back at him.
“This is Hawke’s next move,” she said.
“Likely.”
“Likely?” A humorless laugh scraped out of her. “That is an elegant word for you already know.”
His eyes did not soften. “I know how she thinks.”
There it was. Another blade slipped neatly between her ribs.
Caroline looked back at the page, forcing herself to breathe through the heat rising in her chest. The trap was beautiful in its cruelty. Not a direct punishment. Not an insult in a hallway. Not a shove, not a slur, not something a camera could easily condemn.
A legitimate training evolution.
Technically optional.
Socially impossible to refuse.
“She can’t touch me directly anymore,” Caroline said. “So she builds something that can do it for her.”
“Yes.”
The honesty made her angrier than a lie would have.
“And you brought me here to warn me?”
“No.” His voice hardened. “I brought you here because if I warn you, you will resent the warning. If I order you not to take it, you will take it just to prove I don’t own you. If I remove her, you become untouchable in the worst possible way.”
Caroline’s fingers curled against the edge of the paper. “So what is this?”
“A battlefield map.”
She looked up sharply.
Jarrod held her gaze. “Not permission. Not protection. Information.”
Silence filled the office.
The air between them was still charged, still dangerous, but it had changed shape. It was no longer the feverish pressure of the infirmary. No teasing rank. No confession dragged back into the light. No kiss used to blur the wound.
This was colder.
Harder.
More intimate.
.
.
.