But me?
My fork clatters against my plate as I choke on a laugh. It bursts out of me before I can stop it, sharp and manic, because of course he said training. Of course. Damian Kade could be stranded in a hurricane on Mars and he’d still have us lined up for suicides.
“Where?” I demand, grinning so wide it hurts my sore throat. “Out in the rain? Between tombstones? You gonna make us run laps around the cemetery gates, Captain?”
Damian’s eyes flick to me. One cold, one void. Steady. Too steady.
And my grin dies on my face.
Because he isn’t joking.
I swallow. Loud. My fork suddenly feels way too heavy.
“Stairs. Until your legs give out. Then we’ll use the station.”
I blink. “What station?”
His lip lifts, just faintly, like I’m an idiot. “The one this inn is built into.”
The boys groan. Loud, collective, chorus of suffering. Shane mutters about curses. Tyler makes a face like he’s about to cry. Viktor just drinks his coffee like this is Tuesday.
And Cole—Cole fucking Vance—slaps a hand to his forehead with all the drama of a man dying. “Suddenly…I miss Coach.”
That earns him a round of hollow laughter. Because Coach Harrow isn’t here. He never is when things go sideways. That man’s like a ghost—shows up when it suits him, vanishes when it doesn’t. If he ever heard about this mess, he’d probably just nod and say, “Good conditioning, Kade.”
I slump in my chair, stabbing at my eggs like they betrayed me. The wind rattles the windows, rain hammering down, thunder cracking. And all I can think is—great. We survived a plane crash landing just to die on the stairs of a haunted train station.
Cole tips his head back dramatically. “I’m telling you, curls—when I collapse on those stairs, you better drag my corpse to the top so at least I die a hero.”
I grin, leaning across the table. “Nah, Hollywood. I’ll leave you halfway. That way your ghost has to climb the stairs forever.”
The table cracks up, Cole groaning, Tyler hiding a laugh behind his hand. And Damian?
He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even blink. He just sits there, still, his eyes cutting to me again.
And my grin falters. Because I know what that look means.
He’s already decided I’ll be the last one standing.
It’s official. Damian Kade is a sadist.
The storm hasn’t let up, thunder still shaking the windows of this haunted-ass inn, and here we are—running stairs. Actual stairs. Three floors, spiral, narrow, creaky wood. Up and down, up and down, until I swear I’m going to hurl up my breakfast all over Cole’s perfect hair.
“Cap,” Cole groans from somewhere behind me, his voice broken like an old man’s. “This is…this is abuse. This is straight-up human rights violation level.”
“Keep running,” Damian says, deadpan. Not even out of breath. Just planted at the bottom of the staircase with his arms crossed, watching us suffer like it’s his favorite TV show.
And then—it happens.
He smiles.
A real one. Crooked. Cruel. The kind that makes my stomach flip and my legs move faster even though they’re already jelly. Holy fuck. I think the bastard is enjoying this.
Shane’s muttering about curses with every step. “This building was a station, stations are liminal spaces, liminal spaces breed ghosts—”
“Shut up!” Tyler wheezes, two steps from collapsing.
Mats doesn’t even sound human anymore, just breathing like a demon at my shoulder.
