The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 488

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Chapter 488 New Teammates.

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Chapter 488 New Teammates

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to. It was because he didn’t dare

Desmond stood at Clara’s back, Andy flanked her from the side, and Zach’s gun barret had never once drifted away from Bukowski’s direction.

Elizabeth still wore that same pleasant, entertained expression, like someone watching a play they’d already seen the ending of

Clara rose to her feet and turned to face Bukowski.

“Yes, I dare!” She let out a short, sharp laugh that carried no warmth at all. “He nearly cost me my life. I only took one arm. That’s still a bargain he got away with.”

She glanced down at the severed limb on the ground, then at the ring of bruised fingermark’s circling her own wrist, and felt something release inside her all at once.

No, not in her body. It was in her chest.

That dense, immovable thing that had been lodged there, all the hurt she’d never been able to put into words, all the fury she’d had to swallow, all the grievances she’d had no choice but to carry, dissolved in that moment like smoke in wind.

She turned and walked toward Elizabeth.

Elizabeth watched her with bright, approving eyes and a smile that reached all the way up.

“Clara,” she said, “you’re quitting the Black Panther Squad?”

Clara nodded.

“Any interest in joining our farm?” Elizabeth tilted her head to one side. “Full room and board, benefits package, overtime pay, and triple wages on holidays.”

Clara blinked.

She looked over at Tyson.

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Tyson was already watching her, his eyes warm and quietly luminous, a gentle curve at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t say a word, but his expression said everything it needed to: come on. It’s good here. Clara laughed, and the laughter came with tears she hadn’t expected.

“Alright,” she said. “I’m in.”

“I want to leave too.” A voice rose from somewhere behind the group.

Everyone went still.

Olivia stepped out from the cluster of squad members and took her place beside Clara.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her expression had a solidity to it that didn’t waver.

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Chapter 488 New Teammat

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Captain, she said. “I in done too.” Her voice trembled slightly, but there was no hesitation anywhere inside it

Bukowski’s expression went completely dark.

“Olivial What is this?”

“Captain.” Olivia cut him off, and her voice steadied as she spoke. “I’ve been on the team for eight years. Eight years of injuries, of missions, of never once saying no. But today…”

She glanced at Nathaniel, unconscious on the ground. “You knew what he did. You knew exactly how vicious it was. And you still couldn’t bring yourself to punish him. You know what that says to the rest of us who bleed for this squad. Today it was Tyson and Clara. Tomorrow it’s someone else. The day after that, someone else again. Who takes the hit next time?”

She lifted the squad emblem from her shoulder and held it out toward Bukowski,

He didn’t take it.

Olivia didn’t wait for him. She bent down and set it at his feet.

Felix was quiet for a long moment. Then he stepped forward too.

He didn’t say anything. He simply removed his own emblem, placed it beside Olivia’s, and took up position next to her.

Bukowski stared at him. “You too, Felix?”

Felix didn’t meet his eyes. He said three words. “I’m sorry. I refuse to die confused at the hands of my own teammates.”

Rocket Pilferious pushed his way out from the back of the group.

He was the squad’s heavy ordnance specialist, the biggest person there and the least talkative. He crouched, set his emblem on the ground, stood up, and looked at Bukowski.

The look carried nothing, and it carried everything.

Then he turned and took his place behind Clara.

Sharpie Shootman was last.

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He was the squad’s long-range specialist and not much for words in general, but the ones he chose tended to hit somewhere vital.

When he set his emblem down, Bukowski finally broke.

“Sharpie!” Bukowski’s voice came out tight and fraying at the edges. “You’re leaving too? We’ve had so many years, remember?”

Sharpie straightened up and looked at him.

“Yes, and it’s coming up on twenty,” he said.

“Twenty years! And you’re walking out just like that?”

Sharpie didn’t answer the question directly.

He looked at Nathaniel lying senseless on the ground, then back at Bukowski.

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