The Guild does what it always does. Covering the truth in a convenient lie. Most people think Tex dropped out, setting up to transfer abroad. Not like he talked to people outside the Guild and the Blackmoore Four. No one questions it.
Maeve tells me she overheard some girls in the bathroom speculating Tex left because I broke his heart. I can’t understand how anyone knows. Wenever took it public. We danced at Halloween. Otherwise, most people saw us with the others.
I can’t follow the thoughts, they just lead me in circles.
We still train daily, sometimes multiple times a day. I push until my arms ache, and my muscles shake from the strain. I push past the point of comfort, past the edge of safety. I want the bruises. I want to hurt. I want to feel the pain because it means I’m getting stronger, and strength means next time I’ll be ready.
I go to the cage more and more often. Sometimes to fight, sometimes to just sit in a space where I can almost feel Tex’s presence. Like he’s beside me watching the fights.
Maeve has blended in seamlessly. Dakota and her friends embrace her and it’s...good. Normal. Sometimes they pull me in, and I let them. Sitting cross-legged on the floor while they gossip about professors or argue over which cafeteria hot chocolate is the least watery. For a few minutes at a time, I almost feel like a normal student.
But the hunger doesn’t leave.
Every mission I’m cleared for, I take. No hesitation. Lucian tries to ease me back in—low-risk, short ops, simple retrievals—but I’m efficient, decisive, and quick to volunteer for the next. And the next.
Sometimes it’s just me and Savvy. It's nice to share the space, the stories and when needed, the quiet. To grieve. To be. Most of the time, I go with the group. Noah tries to figure me out like a mathematical equation. Luca tries to make me laugh with his ridiculous jokes. And Jace…keeps me steady with a hand on my back or a look I can’t seem to tear myself away from. Even if it fills me with guilt.
When we go after targets, I’m not gentle. I don’t waste time on drawn-out fights. I don’t give second chances. My hits are precise, brutal, meant to drop someone before they can touch their weapon. I can feel the difference. My movements are sharper. I can feel the power that flows through my muscles. I can hear every correction and note Tex had ever given me, and it brings me comfort.
Jace gives me space, but I catch him watching me. Not with judgement, butlike he’s cataloging my every move to break down and analyze. Like if he understands every movement, he’ll be able to see into my brain and read every thought.
The mats of the training hall smell of sweat and disinfectant. The air is warm, and the only sounds are of fists hitting pads and the occasional grunt from other pairs sparring nearby.
Noah circles me, his expression unreadable. I keep my guard up, eyes locked on his shoulders, waiting for the twitch that’ll give away his next strike.
“You’ve been pushing too hard,” his words make their way between breaths.
I don’t respond, I wait. I keep my focus.
His jab comes fast, but I sidestep and hook toward his ribs. He catches it on his forearm, pushes me back.
“I’m serious, Iz.”
“I’m fine.” I lunge again. Fast, aggressive, forcing him back toward the wall. My gloves thump against his guard, and when he drops low to sweep my legs, I jump back just in time.
“You’re anything but fine.” He snaps, surprising me enough that his next punch tags my shoulder.
“You’re being reckless.”
Rage flares inside me.Reckless. Like I’m not in control. Like I’m not making achoice.
“I know what I’m doing.” I bite out, feinting left and catching him with a clean right hook on the side.
He staggers half a step, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “Do you?”
My chest tightens, but I push past it, aiming a high kick at his temple. He blocks it with both arms, the impact reverberating through us both.
“Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.”
“And what happens when you can’t?” He grabs my arm mid-punch, twists, and I’m suddenly on the mat, staring up at the ceiling lights. He doesn’t pin me, just steps back, breathing hard. “You’re scrappy but you’re still new to this world. You’re not the only one who lost him, Iz. We all did. Ifyou keep this up, you’re going to get yourself killed before you even get to Daniel.”
For a moment, all I hear is my own heartbeat in my ears.
I push myself up, meeting his gaze, “If I die, I’ll take Daniel with me.”
The words hang between us, sharp and heavy. Noah’s jaw flexes but he doesn’t push. He just shakes his head and starts peeling the tape off his fists, and walks away. Leaving me kneeling on the mat with the echo of my own voice in my head.
I’m still on the mat when I hear footsteps behind me, heavier, slower.
