I’m afraid that at any moment, he’ll drag me to a holding cell while he waits for permission from the High Justice to execute me.
“Just thinking of a good insult,” I murmur.
He looks incredibly attractive, leaning against the lockers. Legs crossed at the ankle, his combat boots lazily tied. He’s wearing a tight, black t-shirt and tactical pants. He doesn’tlooklike he came to kill me. But appearances can be deceiving.
His mouth twitches. “And?”
“I’ve got nothing good.” I sigh.
“Need help with the straps?”
“No,” I say. “Last time you almost punctured a lung.”
It molds to my torso, and the straps slide in easily, sealing to the sides like glue. This fits better. I do a quick twirl to show him. His gaze darkens, and I swallow when his eyes slink down my body, tracing my legs. He’s not paying much attention to the vest anymore. And the intense nature of his stare alarms me.
“Fits like a glove,” I say, a tad too loudly.
His eyes shoot upwards, and he straightens.
“Should keep you in one piece during missions,” Ender says. “Unless they aim for your head.”
“Now, why would they do that?”
“The same reason I contemplate it every day,” Ender replies. “To shut you up.”
“I hate you,” I say.
“Hate me if you must.” He shrugs. “Just don’t stop thinking about me, Warrick.”
He surprises me when he reaches for my chin, clasping it tightly between his fingers.
“I take great pleasure in knowing that you are obsessed with me, you know?” Ender says. “There is a comfort in your fixation, in the certainty that in this small way I am undeniably yours.”
My breath hitches, and I shift on my feet.
“It is not good,” I say slowly. “You are like rot in my chest, spreading against my will.”
“I hope I consume you,” he breathes. “I hope I destroy you.”
My hands reach for his wrist to tear his touch away, but my fingers curl around his bare skin, nails digging into his skin. I don’t rip it away. Not yet, at least.
“You consume me,” Ender continues. The words are a bitter revelation. “You destroy me.”
He releases me before I can respond. Not that I had anything of worth to say to that.
And then he vanishes out the door.
Today is another test.
We sit on a plastic bench, dressed for combat. My fingers grip the edge of the seat, tapping a steady rhythm along the surface. Aric glares at me from the opposite seating area. He hasn’t been as antagonizing as usual, and I wonder if he’s grown bored with me.
Ever since that run when he shoved me to the dirt, he’s been backing off.
“The rules are simple,” Ender calls. “You will be sent into the simulation wing to retrieve an important piece of intelligence. There are no rules beyond winning and survival. You may kill as you please.”
My lips tighten at his callous words. He really doesn’t give a damn about any of us. It was hard enough slicing that poor girl’s throat who tried to burn Rei, how am I going to do it again? Her death still weighs on me like a ton of bricks.
Beside me, Kaia is fidgeting nervously. She isn’t much of a team player, so the fact that this test requires us to work as a unit must alarm her.
