Page 199 of The Dark Stranger
"I told you I'm not a damn damsel!"
"I told you I want in!"
"This isn't up for debate!"
"I wasn't high when I said it—I remember saying it—so what's the problem?"
Silas's jaw tightens.
"I never called you a damsel, Bec's," he says. His voice is calm. Too calm.
"But you're not trained."
"Not trained?" I repeat, my voice sharp. Incredulous.
Jace shifts his weight.
"You're not trained in weapons, military precision or combat" he says carefully. His tone is gentler than Silas's. But just as firm.
"Or hand-to-hand combat."
"Nothing you need to move in this world."
"It's not about courage, Becca."
"It's about survival."
I turn around, and I laugh. It's not a happy sound. It's bitter. Angry.
"Do you think I can't shoot?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You point and shoot."
"It's not that hard."
Silas steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine.
"It's not about pulling a trigger, Becca," he says. His voice is low. Intense.
"It's about staying alive when bullets are flying."
"It's about knowing when to move and when to stay down."
"It's about not getting yourself killed because you don't know what the fuck you're doing."
I glare at him, my hands curling into fists.
"She's my best friend," I say, my voice shaking now.
"She's been missing for days."
"And you think I'm just going to sit here and wait while you go get her?"
"Fuck that."
Silas's expression doesn't change.
"Yes," he says simply.
