“Now, get lost, both of you,” I say.
“Is the sister you speak of Mercy, because I think?—”
Knox hits him on the back of the head, silencing him, which is the right move, because I am one second away from putting a bullet inboththeir heads.
Tonight is going to be a long night.
I don’t often attend the training sessions for Black Star unless I have an itch to torment the recruits. Or rather,onerecruit in particular.
I’m on the deck, boots planted on the mesh platform, arms folded across my chest. They are running back and forth across the room, doing their daily cardio session. My eyes find her unwillingly. She is taking the lead, and the recruits on Orion’s team don’t like that.
I watch as the blond-haired, bulky one—Aric—sticks out his leg, tripping her. Haven collapses on the ground, palms scraping the ground.
I grit my teeth and watch as she dusts off her pants and flips him off.
I whistle, and Orion looks up. He makes his way up the stairs to speak with me.
“Yes, sir?”
“Your recruit is playing dirty,” I say. “Remind him that any petty gestures from this moment onward will be punished.”
Orion clears his throat.
“Respectfully, sir, this is a training course to weed out the weak. You said only the last survivor is granted a place on our unit,” Orion says. “Should we not let them handle their own hierarchy? The girl is a Common. The weakest of the bunch, it is natural?—”
“There is nothing natural about a grown man pushing a girl,” I snarl. “And if you think otherwise, you do not deserve a spot on this unit either.”
Orion straightens. “I meant no offense. I’ll speak to Aric.”
Orion turns to leave, but he hesitates.
“Why the change of heart?” he asks. “Aric has been messing with her for weeks.”
“My motivations do not matter,” I say coldly. “Just see to it that it is done.”
Orion nods and heads in Aric’s direction.
Haven is drinking from a tin bottle when I approach.
Her brows furrow as she lowers it. A bead of water clings to her bottom lip, which she wipes away with the back of her sleeve.
“What doyouwant?” she grumbles.
Her bad tone brings a reluctant smile to my face. I lean against the gray stone pillar. The recruits are filtering out the door. Most of them are limping and battered. Haven doesn’t look any better; there is a dark, violet bruise on her cheekbone, and her braid is coming undone, the raven strands spilling down her back like threads of silk. Her bangs are getting longer, slightly shielding her bright eyes.
“You were adequate today,” I say.
“Wonderful,” she says, staring at the ceiling as if she is mustering up the patience to deal with me. “Your useless, backhanded compliment was exactlywhat I needed right now.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” I say.
“Don’t be insufferable,” she responds.
“My arm is healing well, in case you were concerned.”
Haven frowns. “I shot you on purpose. Why would I care?”
“You’re a nasty piece of work, Warrick,” I say. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
