Chapter 6
Harlow
“You can do this,” Jordyn says for what feels like the hundredth time as I pull my T-shirt over my head. The changing room is empty except for the two of us, giving us a moment of privacy before I have to face the crowd again.
I smooth down my shirt and check that my shorts aren’t riding up.
“I can’t believe that new Academy leader is going to make me attempt this every day from now on.
It’s just plain wrong.” The words come out bitter, but I don’t care.
“I’m always stiff after an attempt.” I flex my arms. “Today is no different. I normally stretch the day after, with some light work to get rid of the lactic acid buildup.” I start off with some thigh stretches.
I’m definitely stiff, and tomorrow will be worse.
“Drake does seem like kind of a dick,” Jordyn agrees, leaning against the lockers. Then her expression shifts, and she gets that mischievous look in her eyes. “But you have to admit, he is a sexy asshole.”
I feel heat creep up my neck. “That he is,” I push out.
“So which part are you agreeing with? Him being sexy, or him being a dick?” She starts laughing at her own joke, and despite my nerves, I can’t help but smile.
“About him being a dick,” I say firmly. “I hadn’t noticed the sexy part,” I lie through my teeth.
Jordyn gives me a hard look, her blue eyes narrowing. “You are so full of it, Harlow Santos.”
“I have someone waiting for me at home,” I remind her. “I can’t be checking out the new Academy leader.”
“Do you really think Miles is waiting for you, Harlow?” Jordyn asks, and I see something flicker across her face.
“I mean, you guys agreed you weren’t an item, so technically…
” She trails off, then quickly waves her hand dismissively.
“But you’re right. You know Miles better than anyone.
What do I know?” She pauses, studying my face.
“But seriously, Harlow. Surely you’ve noticed how cute the new guy is?
I mean, you might be in love with Miles, but you’re not blind. ”
Despite myself, I feel my lips curve into a small smile.
“I thought so!” Jordyn cracks up laughing. “He is gorgeous. I would go there in a heartbeat.”
“That would be a very bad idea,” I tell her, thinking about everything that’s happened recently. “Look what happened to Ash. Dani is heartbroken. She really thought he would have contacted her by now…and nothing.”
Jordyn starts to open her mouth to respond when there’s a knock at the door.
“Time to go, Santos,” Smoke’s gruff voice calls through the door. “We’re all ready and waiting for you.”
My stomach clenches tight. This is it. Again.
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
“Good luck,” Jordyn says, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ve got this.” She follows me out the door, then heads toward the spectator area to join the others.
Smoke is waiting for me outside the changing room, his face set in its usual stern expression. “You know what to do, recruit. Don’t overthink it.”
I nod and walk toward the starting line. The familiar white line seems to mock me, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. All the remaining Tributes are here, along with the trainers. All waiting to see if today will finally be the day, or if I’ll fail spectacularly once again.
I hear the bell. That’s when I see him.
Drake stands off to the side, separated from the others, his arms folded across his broad chest. His jaw is set. He looks mad, though I’m not sure if he’s angry at me or just angry in general.
Hopefully the latter.
My stomach clenches, and heat spreads through my body.
Focus, Harlow.
I give my neck a quick roll, shake out my arms, and sprint over the line.
The clock starts ticking, and I push all thoughts of Drake’s penetrating stare out of my mind. I make quick work of the walls.
The balance beam passes in a blur of concentrated steps. I leap off the end and climb quickly up to the rope bridge. The suspended ropes sway under my weight, but I move with a steady rhythm, not looking down at the ground far below.
The monkey bars burn my shoulders, but I power through all ten of them, dropping to the ground and immediately sprinting toward the swinging logs. I time the rhythm perfectly, ducking and weaving through all eight massive logs without a single near miss.
The mud pit is disgusting as always, but I crawl through the thick brown muck efficiently, keeping my movements steady and controlled. When I slide out the other side, covered head to toe in mud, I can almost taste success.
The net stretches up before me like a ladder to the sky. This is where everything can go wrong.
But I push those thoughts away and start climbing.
Hand over hand, foot by foot, I scale the net. At this point, it’s looking like I might just make it. I can feel it. My muscles are strong, my grip is sure, and for once, the weather is cooperating.
Whooo hooooo!
I hit the top of the net and start my descent, focusing on each rope as it comes. Don’t look down; just keep moving. One hand, then the other.
My left hand reaches for the next rope, but instead of finding purchase, my muddy fingers slip right off the surface.
My body swings sideways, held only by my right hand, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think I can recover. But then my right hand starts to slip too, the mud making everything slick.
And then I’m falling.
Down, down, down toward the hard ground below.
I scream as the earth rushes toward me.
Drake
Yes! Santos is making good time.
The Tribute descends the net with steady, controlled movements. The crowd around me is cheering, their voices rising with excitement as they realize she might actually pull this off.
About damned time.
I’m inclined to want to cheer her on, too, but I hold myself back.
Come on. You’ve got this.
It’s good for everyone involved if she makes it through Sky’s Edge.
My reaction isn’t personal.
“She’s going to make it!” someone shouts from the crowd.
Even Smoke is grinning, his gruff exterior cracking as he watches his trainee on the verge of success.
“That’s it, Santos! Keep moving!” he yells, cupping his hands over his mouth.
The digital clock shows she’s well within the time limit. My decision to push her into daily attempts was the right call. Sometimes people need pressure to—
Her left hand slips.
My entire body goes rigid as I watch her muddy fingers lose their grip on the now-wet rope. Her body swings sideways, held only by her right hand, and for a moment, I think she can recover.
Then her right hand starts to slip, too.
And then she’s falling.
No. Fuck!
The words explode through my mind as I watch her body plummet toward the earth below. Her scream cuts through the air like a blade, high and terrified, and something primal roars to life inside my chest.
The shift hits me like lightning, bones cracking and reforming, muscles expanding, wings erupting from my back as scales ripple across my skin. My clothes shred away as my body transforms, growing massive and powerful in the space of a single heartbeat.
I launch myself forward, strong wings beating as I dive toward her falling form. My claws extend, and I catch her just feet from the ground, her body small and fragile in my grip.
She’s safe.
But instead of landing, instead of setting her down gently like any rational being would do, my dragon takes over.
Double fuck!
The words pound through my consciousness as my wings carry us up and away from Sky’s Edge, away from the shocked faces and pointing fingers of the crowd below.
I try to wrestle control back from my beast, but it’s useless. My dragon won’t hear of it, and he’s in control now…not me.
As we ascend, I sense Amelia running from the office building. I feel her trying desperately to connect with our mind-bond. She’s screaming at my beast to stop, to land. But we’re already too far away, flying too fast and too high for her influence to reach us.
Noooooooo!
Drake! Her voice echoes in my mind, but it’s like trying to hear a whisper in a hurricane.
I’ve fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.
Shifting in front of the Tributes at this stage of their training is strictly forbidden. They have no idea that we’re dragon shifters. They only know about the dragons we claim to train and control. Shifting without my rider violates every protocol we have.
And saving a Tribute? That’s against every rule in every book.
I should have let her die.
How could I? She’s just a pawn in all this, an innocent human caught up in lies she doesn’t even know exist. She doesn’t deserve to die for the Mainland’s deceptions.
But my personal feelings don’t matter. Rules exist for a reason.
The reality is that the Tribute will probably still die, and by my hand…or claw. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I messed up big time.
They may send a search party. Hopefully, they aren’t too late. I just hope Harlow doesn’t get injured in the inevitable scuffle.
My dragon suddenly banks left and swoops down toward a dense section of jungle. The canopy rushes up to meet us, thick green foliage providing cover from any aerial search.
No. Don’t you dare.
I feel my dragon’s predatory instincts stirring, feel the way his grip tightens on the small human in his claws. My beast might have saved her, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt her.
Don’t harm her. Please!
My dragon screeches as we crash through the canopy and land hard in a small clearing, branches and leaves raining down around us. I feel Harlow trembling in my claws, hear her rapid, panicked breathing.
I don’t blame her.
She’s in grave danger.