Rissa stared at me likeyou’ve got to be kidding.
Did she think I did that to get their attention? My throat was just dry. Possibly shrinking. I swallowed too many times to count.
“Can everyone round up, please?”
Metal clanged and rattled as the rest of the squad continued with their weights.
Great. Fine. I’ll just talk louder.
“We’re going to the weapons range. You can pick your own stations. But not your partners. I’ll pick those.”
Oliver’s face scrunched like I’d said something wrong. Or maybe it was my tone? Was I not demanding enough? Did they hear the waver at the end? Was my voice too high-pitched?
I wiped my sticky palms against my uniform, scrubbing away sweat and arena sand from the textured leather.
I could do this.
More confidence and louder, Lucy.
“Dusty, you’ll be with Zera. Matt with Valarus. Rissa with Enora, and Oliver with me.”
We’d have the comfort of Ichi’s smile and brutal training. I still had a lot to learn and only trusted her to teach me.
Fortunately, they all stopped what they were doing and moved toward the weapons range.
My lips twitched, and hope spilled through me, easing the heat my uniform fought against.
“Way to go…” Oliver trailed off, stopping the premature celebration.
Dusty and Matt paired up. Valarus and Zera paired up. And Rissa and Enora went to separate stations, preferring to be alone.
They followed my first order—just not the second.
I pathetically searched the crowd again for MJ and Ronen like a child looking for their parents.
Ronen gestured to every squad but ours as he spoke to his Dreads,while MJ sectioned the Trenchers into smaller groups. Probably for patrols.
They were busy. They were more concerned with the infection and keeping Hell safe.
And here I was wishing someone would yell at my squad and tell them to listen to me when that was my damned job.
I think I hated myself just a little then.
“Come,” Ichi urged. “We’ll train. When the time is right, they will listen to you.”
“Or I could send them into their deepest fears,” Oliver offered.
I preferred option C, where I wasn’t acting like a Bowel babe, as MJ would put it.
Leaving them, I marched toward Dusty and Matt, who stood in front of the weapons wall discussing which one they wanted to start with.
My Infernus sang in my ears as if delighted by my frustration, eager to come out and play.
“I’m sorry, but are you two mentally impaired? Because I know you’re not deaf.”
I stood behind them with my arms crossed.
Dusty whipped around, his dreads snapping like weighted cords. Guilt widened his pale green eyes.
