Before all this started I had an argument with my trainer because I asked for a smaller blade, I wanted the handle to fit in my hand, and he laughed, and said I was asking for a death wish. Asshole.
Blind Weapon Assembly is the first one, and Conor steps forward. I know he’s good with a gun, but I don’t know what everyone else can do. I watch, and Conor smiles as he’s the first one to step back. That was easy.
Target Recall, I try to hide the smile when I see Milo step forward. If Matteo is scared of what he can do with a knife, I already know this is going to be good. Everyone else steps forward, and Milo insists on everyone else going first.
Cillian’s arms move like a machine. Precise. Cold. Ruthless. He hits three of the five targets perfectly. Missed the fourth. Hit the fifth as it was spinning out. Not bad. But not perfect.
Alina Petrov smiles faintly after watching. “Close,” she says. “But not clean.” As she steps forward, everyone cheers when she hits four of them.
Milo steps forward, smiling. “You might want to take notes.” He winks at her and doesn’t even look at the board to see where the symbols are, but he looks at the ones Leo wants him to hit. He plays with the knife in his hand, moving it between his fingers as if it’s a pencil and won’t cut him. He tells Leo to start spinning them, he turns and throws. Everyone waits for the boards to stop. Before they do, Milo bows. Matteo and Marco laugh. Fucking amazing.
Silent Kill Drill, now this one no one knows who the target is, but I watch Rosa walking around like a woman would in a bar preying on her target. I can learn a lot from her, and as good as she is Lara is the first to hit her target.
Disarm Race, Matteo steps forward into the ring barefoot, shirtless, and grinning like a wolf. The opponent lunges. Not even three seconds and Matteo has him pinned, weapon twisted out of his hand, red paint slashed across his throat.
The timer stops. Everyone stares.
Leo smirks. “Fastest time on record.”
Matteo walks back to his corner like nothing happened. Just another day, another kill.
Break the code, Marco steps forward, sits on the chair, looks at the paper, and one minute, that’s all it took one minute for him to walk back to his brothers, while the Irish are still working on it. I know this was going to be our weak spot, no one really likes to sit in front of the computer.
Leo tells everyone the games are over, and that’s the night and we will be back tomorrow for more training.
I walk away quickly, not wanting to see Matteo staring at me, because Conor has been annoying me about it. So, it’s better I keep away from him, even though I want to be near him.
The wind is softer tonight,it’s whispering. Low and distant, like the sea is dreaming. There’s a hush over everything, like the world knows it needs to be quiet.
I sit on the rooftop edge, boots dangling, the worn stone warm under me from the heat of the day. Below, the cliffs meet the ocean in a slow, rhythmic crash. The lighthouse blinks in the distance, one slow flash at a time.
The knife trembles in my hand. Matteo was right. It feels wrong in my grip, like trying to dance in someone else’s shoes. My trainer won’t let me have a smaller one. He thinks it will get me killed.
I sigh, flipping it between my fingers slowly, trying again to balance it on the edge of my index. It slips, clattering on the stone.
“Trying to kill yourself with the wrong weapon?” His voice is a low purr, rolling through the quiet. Goosebumps rise across my skin. I don’t turn.
“You always sneak up like that?” I ask, picking the knife back up then examining the edge.
He walks over slowly, boots scuffing softly on the rooftop. Then he lowers himself beside me with a grunt, his arms draping over his bent knees, the smoke from his cigarette dancing with the wind.
“Only when you look like you’re thinking about throwing yourself over again.” He takes a long drag, and my eyes move to the red glow, as he inhales.
“I wasn’t.”
“Mm. Not tonight, at least.”
We sit in silence. Not awkward, just silence.
The kind which hums under the surface, pulling at your skin and sinking into your bones. The kind of silence that knows something deeper is happening here. The wind rustles around us, bringing salt and cold with it, but between us there is only heat.
“You like the challenges today?” I finally ask, voice small.
He nods. “I loved it.”
I snort. “You enjoy it too much.”
He turns to look at me. “It’s not enjoyment. It’s purpose. You wouldn’t understand.”
