“Not anyone whose opinion I valued.”
She slings her duffel bag over her shoulder and heads inside without a word. I follow.
Haven glances back at me, her brows knitting in confusion, as she quickens her pace.
The moment the women’s locker room sign comes into view, her strides lengthen as she races towards it.
“Wait,” I begin, but she dives inside, grinning as the door slams in my face.
She probably expects me to retreat, but I barge in after her. It is thankfully empty. I would hate to scare a bunch of my female recruits in the pursuit of Haven Warrick.
Most people use the bathrooms in their private rooms. Block A has the best living quarters of all the other buildings since it was designed to train the best of the best.
“You can’t be in here!” Haven exclaims. “Get out.”
“I think you’ve forgotten that Iownthis place,” I say.
“What do you want then?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. Her green eyes stare venomously at me. “You have five seconds.”
I don’t quite know why I sought her out. In fact, I usually try toavoidher unless necessary.
“Time’s up,” she spits.
She doesn’t give me a second to gather my thoughts before she spins around, yanking her locker open. She slips her shirt over her head, muscles shifting under the light as she strips down to her tank. A few birthmarks are scattered across her back; three of them are clustered, resembling the shape of a star. It is kind of pretty, I suppose. But I am too pissed off to appreciate it. I don’t like to be ignored.
I slam her locker shut, and she jumps, brushing against me.
“Don’t turn your back on me,” I snap. “Ever.”
Haven spins around. Her cheeks are red and blotchy from her training. And also because she is enraged.
“What is your problem?”
“You,” I hiss. “You are my problem. You?—”
The words tighten in my throat.
Why am I here? Why am I antagonizing her and relishing it?
I pause, and when I speak again, my voice is less destructive.
“I came to ask if you are attending the engagement party this Saturday?” I ask.
“Of course. I always support my sister and, in this case, pity her as well,” she says nastily. “I’d shoot myself in the foot if I were tied to you for life.”
“You always say it like that?”
“What?”
“You call her ‘my sister’. I reckon it’s hard to keep up with the changed names, isn’t it,Mercy?”
“When are you going to drop this?” Haven asks.
I have beaten this subject to death, but I can’t do anything without proof or a confession. And her lips are sealed tighter than a vault.
“The second you admit that you are my wife,” I say.
“Why do you want to be married to me so bad?” she asks. “Do you like me or something? I was just teasing that night when I said it, but it’s starting to seem like the truth.”
