24. Brylee
24
brYLEE
“Again.”
Ridge’s commanding, imperious voice seems to echo from every direction, despite him standing directly atop of me. Maybe it’s because the gym is practically empty at this time of day. Maybe it’s because his presence seems larger than just one alpha is capable of. Maybe it’s because I’m infuriatingly in tune with everything he does.
Either way, he’s all I can hear. All I can focus on. All I can see.
The overhead lights glint annoyingly off his golden hair, which is plastered to his forehead. I glare up at him and then shakily rise to my feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. I learned my lesson the first time I took it and he flipped me to the ground.
“Never trust your opponent,” he had said, a perpetual scowl tugging at his lips.
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
Now, an hour later, I’m still getting beaten to a pulp—but at least this time I have the dignity to get up on my own. My thigh muscles ache at the edges as I stand.
“You were faster this time,” Ridge says. The twitter of a bird outside the window punctuates his statement with a happy trill, and I pause.
Am I mistaken, or does that almost sound like a compliment? I don’t know if the intimidating alpha has ever praised me before.
I clear my throat and take a step away, folding my arms over my chest and averting my eyes from the way his sweat-soaked T-shirt clings to his chest. I’m playing a dangerous game being this close to Ridge in my Teddie disguise. One wrong move, one wrong word…and he’ll know everything. As it is, I had to douse myself in suppressors in preparation for this meeting.
I lower myself into a crouch and take a deep breath, filling my lungs to prepare myself for the inevitable takedown. We’re working on defensive maneuvers this morning, though I’m beginning to believe that Ridge is simply looking for an excuse to put me on my ass. Heaven knows that the only thing I’ve “learned” is what the mat smells like when my nose becomes intimately acquainted with it.
Ridge comes at me, and I stealthily sidestep his attack, lifting my arms just in time to block his assault. His fists crash into my arm bar and, even with the suit padding, my bones rattle from the impact. One second later, he lowers himself, kicks out, and I jump to avoid his sweeping leg.
Holy shit.
This is longer than I’ve ever lasted before.
Giddy euphoria bubbles in my chest, and a slow smile tugs at my lips?—
Ridge’s shoulder catches my chest as he tosses me over him.
I land on the ground with an audible “thump.”
Motherfucker.
Ridge stands over me, his chest heaving, his eyes angry. “You need to be better than that if you have any hope of surviving this world.”
“Why the fuck do you care if I survive?” I snap as I push myself to my feet, disappointed and angry at myself but also lashing out at him. I shift my weight away from my weaker ankle and lean on my good one as I try to shrug my shoulders, but they pulse with pain from that last landing, and movement only makes it worse. I need water, a warm bath, and a massage—actually, I need all three in no particular order. Sometimes, I hate being royalty. Other times, I miss the benefits of living in a palace with hundreds of staff who dote on me.
“Because Bry—” Ridge cuts himself off quickly, his lips clamping together. With a growl, he stalks toward the far side of the gym, where he left his bag.
Was he about to say…my name?
Is he attempting to teach “Teddie” to fight for me ?
A strange, warm feeling rushes through me. I don’t want to have this feeling. At all. The last time I did, I got kidnapped, tortured, and?—
I cut that shit off. Fast.
Then I force myself to take a long, measured breath.
“How much longer do we have, boss?” I ask, trying my damnedest not to infuse my voice with sass. Brylee is sassy. Teddie is calm and collected.
I pivot to face Ridge.
My breath catches, a boulder wedging itself in my throat. A tingly heat pervades my body, and a pulsing ache erupts in my center.
Oh my god.
Ridge is…shirtless. Gloriously shirtless. My eyes greedily lap up every inch of his golden physique. My last pack had been muscular, but they have nothing on Ridge. Every line on his chest and stomach are defined and sharp enough to cut glass. There’s a tiny trail of golden hair that disappears down the waistband of his workout shorts. I want to taste that trail, follow it with my mouth the way I would a treasure map leading to?—
I turn away quickly, willing my heartbeat to slow, my lust to cool.
I’m Teddie, not Brylee.
Ridge is a domineering asshole.
I hate him.
I don’t want mates.
I don’t want to be tied to any alpha, let alone four.
The thoughts do as intended. I no longer want to cross the room and climb Ridge like the glorious golden tree he is.
Much.
I don’t want to do that much .
“Let’s go through a few more takedowns, and then we can—” Ridge pauses. I glance over my shoulder to see him throwing a clean shirt on, his gaze fixed on the doorway to the gym, where I see the retreating back of an unknown man. “Actually, you’re dismissed, cadet. I’ll see you in class.”
Before I can comment, he’s stalking ahead, every step quick and purposeful.
What?
I gawk after him.
WHAT?
Sam’s words from the other day play on a loop in my mind.
What the hell is he up to? Did he see something?
Curiosity wars with common sense, but apparently, I don’t have strong survival instincts. Before I can think better of it, I’m hurrying after him, praying that he won’t catch a whiff of my scent and realize I’m following him.
The halls are almost empty this early in the morning—the sun has just barely started to rise, still a ghost of red and orange on the horizon. I only spot a few staff members and one student.
No Ridge.
Where did he go?
I bite my lip and scan both directions. And…there. I spot his broad back and golden hair as he turns a corner.
This is stupid, Brylee.
You should not be following the psychotic alpha.
Yet my brain doesn’t seem to be communicating with my feet.
This stretch of hallway is longer than the other, allowing me to see who, exactly, Ridge is following.
Fear skates up my spine and knots in my throat.
Why is Ridge following the headmaster of Eros Academy?
I try to piece together everything I know about Headmaster Graves, but frankly, the information is lacking. I know that he’s a trusted official. He’s the last person who would ever betray my parents.
Right?
I quicken my pace, my gaze intent on Ridge’s back.
If the headmaster is selling secrets to our enemies, then I need to know, especially after what they did to me. I need to?—
Limbs straining as I dangle from the ceiling.
Pain reverberating through me.
Tears dusting my eyes.
Oh god.
My breaths are embarrassingly choppy. There isn’t just a boulder lodged in my throat anymore but an entire mountain, gravel raking against the skin.
I stop walking and place one hand against the wall, attempting to hold myself upright.
Desperate cries as I scream for the men I love to save me.
Pain, pain, and more pain.
Only pain.
So much pain.
Familiar arms reach for me, steadying me.
I don’t think, just act, twisting in his arms and burying my face in his chest. His smell surrounds me. Grounds me. I want to get lost in it, in him. I know that he can hold my broken, jagged pieces together. He may not make me whole—only I am capable of doing that—but he can certainly help the process.
I breathe him in, nose nestled against his shirt as I wait for the panic to subside, to ebb away like a wave cresting the shoreline and then retreating to the ocean. I hate how weak I feel when a memory grabs hold of me the way it just did.
Breathe, Brylee. Just breathe.
I force air past the knot in my throat, belatedly aware that my savior has moved us out of the hallway and into a janitor’s closet. The scents of ammonia and bleach contaminate his perfect smell, and rack upon rack of cleaning materials surround us.
Breathe.
I blink away the tears in my eyes and tilt my chin up to stare at the underside of his masked face.
Colter.
And then I remember where I am— who I am—and panic sets in again with a vengeance. I stagger backward, my back slamming against a shelf, but Colter simply watches me, his eyes dark and fathomless beneath his mask.
Oh god.
I just allowed Colter to comfort me.
I fucking sniffed him.
And I’m not Brylee right now, but Teddie.
Holy shit.
What is going through his head? Does he know the truth? Does he suspect anything?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I wish I could see his expression, but with the mask on, I can see nothing but his eyes. And those obsidian orbs give nothing away.
I don’t say anything as I shove past him and stumble out of the closet.
He doesn’t call for me to come back.
But I can feel his eyes on me as I race down the hall, keen and assessing, unraveling my secrets one string at a time.