Front-to-back. His chest against Gage’s spine. Close enough he could feel his heat. Close enough to be punished when he thought about anything except angles and timing.
“Twenty days,” Scar growled.
Meridian had designed the simulations to be super hard and complex in a way they couldn’t outperform them.
It was overlayered with moving targets behind civilians. Blind corners that shifted. Audio decoys. Light distortions. Threats that didn’t look like threats until they were already inside their space.
He and Gage were almost perfect now, their coordination seamless.
But Meridian didn’t deal in almost.
Still, Scar was close to losing his damn mind.
Lunch was fifteen minutes, if it could even be called that. It was more like a refueling window.
By the time Meridian let them knock off at midnight, they barely had enough energy to eat dinner before they collapsed into bed in each other’s arms.
If they were lucky, they’d manage four hours of sleep before they were back up at four forty-five a.m. to scarf down a protein-loaded breakfast and back in the facility at five sharp.
They’d been late once, and Meridian had made them pay for it in blood, sweat, and tears. He never raised his voice or showed anger. He just kept adding hours and increasing the work until they learned to never waste his time.
Meridian stood with Grace, Mirage, and Zorion on the floor. Roz was operating in comms with Corvo and Spectre—sometimes it bugged him at how good he was at being Gage’s handler. Their field team lingered at the edges, making notes of how he and Gage moved.
“Back in position,” Meridian said.
Grace stepped in, maneuvering and shifting Gage as if he were a piece on a chessboard. Mirage eased Scar up tight on Gage’s back, teaching him how to shoot around Gage’s frame, the same way he did with his partner.
“Again,” Meridian ordered.
Scar swallowed his irritation. They’d been hitting their targets every damn time. What more did they want? He and Gage were ready. They were going to be magic in the field. He didn’t know how the fuck they couldn’t already see that.
Mirage tapped his wrist, shifting his line of fire by a mere inch.
Scar narrowed his eyes. Seriously!
He wanted to argue that he had it, then Meridian’s glare flicked in his direction, and he decided to keep his mouth shut.
Gage was in front of him, and Scar’s discipline and patience were slipping for a completely different reason.
His partner was dressed in white fatigues again. A tight white T-shirt, silver-rimmed glasses with tech lenses, wrist braces on his forearms, and weapons concealed in various compartments all over his body.
It was turning him on watching Gage move like water as he flowed into each maneuver, hitting every target, adjusting to every change, wielding his cane like a samurai with his katana.
The worst part was when Meridian pulled out Whisper, wrapped Gage’s hand around his, and shifted with him, guiding him through a sequence where they fought as one.
Gage absorbed the lesson instantly, and Scar watched it all while burning inside.
Grace pushed him closer to Gage, unaware of how rock-solid he was.
Gage turned his head slightly, enough that Scar knew he’d been caught.
“I feel you,” Gage whispered against his jaw, which did nothing to help his predicament.
Grace’s low, irritated growl cut through the air like a warning.
“Focus!” Meridian snapped.
Mirage looked just as annoyed. “You will have to leave your personal relationship out of the field, Scar. None of us indulge on missions. Sex and romance is a distraction that’ll get you killed.”
