Except he was at least somewhat human. I managed to crack him at the mention of deaths, which wasn’t reassuring for me. If he was the best, why had that statement rendered him useless? If he were going to train me, would I survive? What man went silent after a simple question?
I didn’t want to die, and unfortunately, it looked like Dad stuck me with someone ill-equipped. I doubted he’d switch me to a different Commander if I called, which wouldn’t really matter. I wanted out, and if I rebelled long enough, surely they’d kick me out, right?
The hallways were mostly bare, void of the artwork I’d grown to love at the university I wanted to attend. Now it remained a distant memory, a calling I’d never fulfill like mom wanted me to. You’d think her passing would get easier as the years accumulated, but I found it harder than ever to avoid thinking of her. Eight years is too long a chapter without her in it, and it only ever continued to increase.
My fingers scraped against my scalp, a habit that was going to be hard to break, because such a simple thing brought me comfort—comfort in the form of howsheused to rake her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep.
A soft groan left my lips as I wandered the hallways for the room this key belonged to. It would’ve been nice if the asshole told me where to go, but then he’d go against his mannerisms.
I guess it was still true that all assholes are hot. I wished he were the exception, but he was exactly the type I’d seek out at the bar. Hell, even the way he clocked my cross necklace as nothing but a farce was exceedingly perfect. Unfortunately, his personality, or lack thereof, didn’t make up for his chiseled jaw and biceps. He looked good, but there was nothing worth an ounce of my time beneath the surface.
I’d almost had enough of this guessing game when the rusted key clicked into place, the door groaning its reply as I shuffled across the threshold.
Three cots, a tiny ass room, and nothing but a simple sheet served as my bedding. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling because what is this? Did they enjoy ripping necessities such as comfort away?
Two were occupied, uniforms neatly placed at the edge of the bed. I walked over to the last one, tucked in the back corner, and picked up one of the two uniforms on my bed. It was a plain black T-shirt and camo pants, like the ones you saw in every commercial. I wanted to vomit, but with no way out, I changed into them.
At least the shirt was tight-fitting, accentuating the contours of my chest, and the pants hugged my ass. If my friends saw me, they’d laugh at the style, but at least I still looked good.
Boots secured, I collected my old clothes and brought them to the front desk. I slapped them on the table and departed without a word. Was I already changing into an asshole, too? I was never this…tense, but this atmosphere had a way of drawing it from me.
I needed to talk to someone civil, someone who was at least level-headed and decent. With no plans except making myself look like everyone else here, I decided to explore the base.
Conference rooms, a dining hall, and a gym were the main areas filling the place. Stopping at the gym seemed like a great idea to blow off some steam as I headed over to the set of weights.
The weights were blocked by a man an inch shorter than me, though equally if not more buff. His hair was shorter than mine, and his coffee eyes were set to the weights he was placing in an odd order.
I would’ve kept observing if he didn’t turn around, a stupid grin etched on his baby-doll-like face. Talk about innocent.
“You’re new,” he stated matter-of-factly, his brows raising as he examined me. His eyes swept across my chest, finding the viper emblem I wished nothing more than to rip off. “Spec Unit six. Lucky for you, pal, you sniffed two of your squad mates out of a gym full of limp pricks and testosterone-hungry man-children. Name’s Simon, by the way.”
“Oren,” I replied, the first genuine smile appearing on my face. I held out my hand, and Simon clasped it firmly. “So you’re on the unit and someone else?” I scanned the area, limp pricks indeed flooding the space like wannabe gym rats.
“There’s only five of us, well six now including you. Graves is pretty selective with who gets handed his believed badge of superiority. He always runs his units far smaller than the rest.” He flashed me a cheeky smirk. “I’ve been here for a little over three years.”
Gesturing toward the weight rack, he hinted at the other squad mate he’d mentioned. “Lovely Liam over there has been here for about two years.”
I peered at Liam, immediately catching the length of his hair. “You said two years?” But Thorne made it sound like a shorter hair style was a unit expectation. Was I being fucked with by this guy? I wouldn’t put it past this place to mentally screw me over. “Thatguy?” I pointed at the broad-chested man, his dirty blonde hair nearly covering his brows.
Simon dipped his chin. “Don’t let his demeanor fool you; Liam is about as soft as they come. Well, so long as you can break through his hardened exterior. Though correction, and never repeat thatItold you this, but his ‘hardened’ exterior is flimsy at best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “but hishairis long.” I didn’t give a shit about his personality at the moment.
“Yeah?” Simon glanced from Liam to me a handful of times before his brows lifted. “Oh.”
“You mean…” My voice trailed off as the weight of what Graves had done solidified. It didn’t have to be cut. It didn’tfuckinghave to be cut.
“Our unit has what you’d call…special privileges.” His tongue danced over his teeth, attempting to lap up the wrath his reply would undoubtedly stir within me. “You must’ve started on thewrongfoot with Commander Graves because cutting our hair like the other squadrons isn’t a requirement. He only does it when people mouth off; hence,” he pointed at his buzzed head, “my short hair. But as spiteful as I am, I elected to keep it that way to prove a point.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Shouting would resolve nothing, but plotting? Planning? He’d fucked with the wrong person, and I’d make his life hell.
Clearing my throat, I nodded, hoping to seem civil once more. “The hairstyle suits you,” I settled on.
As if he could somehow read my internal monologue, he nudged me. “Not a fan of our lovely overseer?”
“Fan? Does hehavefans? The man is beyond unpleasant and probably carries his size in his ego,” I added. “A perfect man-child.” I found myself continuing to talk and hoped it wouldn’t bite me in the ass.
He proved he was trustworthy with a laugh that became the very definition of contagious, a sound that confirmed he enjoyed my humor.
