My hands get clammy with sweat in a single second.
Colter didn't care.
Ridge figured it out.
But…what if my other alphas feel differently?
My mind immediately wants to drive off a cliff into a dozen different disaster scenarios. But I try to hold it at bay by making eye contact with Colter, who stands and leans against the kitchen counter, legs crossed casually at the ankles.
"Would you…mind getting Ridge that water? I need to catch them up on things." My voice wavers mid-sentence, and I can tell the second he realizes just what things I mean.
But Colter gives a single nod before moving around the counter into the minuscule kitchen.
Kylian strides around me and picks up a rifle that was left on the couch, letting the gun plop casually onto his lap as he sits down. "Bet still applies, baby."
"Of course." I try to sound casual but fail miserably.
Luka picks up on my tension as he strides slowly toward the couch, a night-vision headset in one hand and a grenade in the other. He perches on the edge of the couch, back stiff. I can't tellif that's because he's expecting bad news from me or if that's how he always sits and I'm just overthinking.
I wait until Colter's heavy steps fade down the hall.
And then I'm out of excuses to stall. Wringing my sweaty fingers, I lick my lips and try to figure out where to start.
But is there really a good place when I've been lying?
My teeth dig into my lower lip as I close my eyes, and I blow out a long breath. "I'm Teddie."
It's silent.
Too silent. I crack open one eye and peer down at the two mates who still don't know the whole truth.
Kylian's head is tilted, one hand rubbing at the top of his dark hair. Luka's squinting at me. Or frowning. I'm not quite sure. Nervous prickles rattle me.
Luka orders, "Explain."
He uses the same sort of alpha tone he does in class, one that's full of command, meant to make recruits snap to attention. As if I've been programmed to respond to that tone, I jump into detail.
"So, Teddie is my twin. But he's sick. Too sick to go to Eros. So, I've been wearing a bodysuit and using scent blockers and going to class in his place."
Luka sets the grenade deliberately on a side table and flexes his fingers, almost as if he was clutching it too hard. I flinch, tracking his every move.
"You…have been posing…as your brother?" he asks, incredibly slowly, as if I mumbled every word and he couldn't quite catch what I said.
Maybe I did.
"Ye-yes."
"In our classes?"
"Yes."
I'm not certain whose expression is more horrified right now—his or mine. Both our eyes are wide, and the brown depths of his gaze feel like quicksand. I'm drowning.
Kylian rises to his feet, breaking my stare-off with Luka. The tattooed alpha holds out the rifle still in his grip.
One of his brows is cocked skeptically as he says, "Prove it. Show me a fight-ready stance."
I swallow hard, but I slide my feet until I've got one braced behind me and the other forward. My hands rise to protect the sides of my head.
