Chapter 18 Annalise
Chapter eighteen
Annalise
Before we fell asleep last night, Matt convinced me to skip my morning run again today.
He claimed it was because I needed to catch up on the sleep I’ve been missing, but I think my confession about thinking someone was watching me run played a bigger part in it.
Either way, it’s Friday, which means the adult jungle gym—uh, I mean the obstacle course—awaits me this morning, as soon as we get through formation.
After we’re finished getting ready, Matt and I knock on Sasha’s door, determined not to let her feel like she is alone in all this.
“Are you sure you guys aren’t like friends with benefits or something? I swear I’m not judging, everyone needs a good twazzle twist and muck suck every now and then.”
“A good what?!?” I shout, blinking in disbelief.
Matt grins, eyes twinkling mischievously. “That muck suck sounds like something I might enjoy. Care to explain, in detail?”
And right on cue, her entire face turns a deep shade of red.
Matt and I both burst out laughing, and it takes a minute for me to catch my breath before I can answer her original question.
“Definitely not,” I say, trying to hold in my laughter. “I go through phases of nightmares and night terrors. He’s been around since they started, so it helps when he sleeps with me when they get bad.”
“Plus,” Matt chimes in with a smirk, “I’m a really good cuddler. Think of me as her G-rated emotional support teddy bear.”
Now it’s Sasha’s turn to laugh. “Oh man, I really hope those people heard you say that! I wonder if they think you two are together?”
“I think we would be kicked out already if they did. Him for being a complete sleaze, and me for being too blind to see that he warms other girls' beds every other night.”
“Ok, I’m not that bad…” He protests with a smile as we walk to formation.
Entering the combat arena, I head to my favorite stretching spot on the back wall.
I hesitate for a second when I see Captain Korr leaning casually against it, watching all of the recruits trickle in as if this is where he always stands, which it isn’t.
His gaze tracks me as I approach, lingering a second too long.
I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips as I set down my bag and water bottle and ease into my usual stretches beside him.
“Waiting for the show to start, Sir?” The second it leaves my lips, I realize exactly how dirty that came out. I see his brows shoot up in surprise, gods help me, he heard how it sounded too!
“Careful, Miss Corvin,” he says. I’m about to apologize and explain what I meant when he continues, his voice dropping an octave, “I wouldn’t want anyone thinking your impressive obstacle course times aren’t earned on the course.”
Holy fuck. There is no question he is playing with me now—and maybe I lost my mind, but I want to play right back.
I glance up at him through my lashes and try for a mock innocent tone, “What else could they think influenced my score? I wasn’t aware of any extra credit for this class, and I am pretty sure I rank pretty high already. ”
I slide into a deeper stretch, letting my legs spread wide and my back arch a little more than necessary.
And I watch his eyes hungrily look me up and down, pausing on my ass a second too long to be decent, before he forces his gaze back to my face.
I don’t remember him moving, but he’s closer now.
His voice is a quiet growl, “Miss Corvin. If you keep it up, you’re going to be on top. ”
My name rolling off his tongue with that tone shoots straight to my core. And what did he just say?
“I’m not sure what you mean?” I tilt my head, my voice still sounding virginal, while my body is hot from every word falling from his mouth.
A short laugh escapes his lips. “After this round of the obstacle course, if you keep your movements … tight, you should be on top of the leaderboard.”
Oh. My. Gods.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond; he simply turns around and calls for the class to head to the obstacle course.
I’m almost at the starting point before it hits me…I was so distracted by Korr that I forgot to stretch my upper body. Self-sabotage at its finest. While I wait for my turn, I roll out my neck and stretch my arms overhead, a soft groan escaping me as ghost pains in my ribs flare.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the slightest shift in Korr’s stance, and I’d be willing to bet he imagined me making that noise for a much sexier reason.
I don’t hesitate when his whistle blows for me to start. Sprinting for the rope climb, I haul myself up quickly, pinching the rope between my feet and moving one hand over the other on the prickly fibers, until I reach the monkey bars suspended fifteen feet in the air.
Making sure my grip is solid, I swing hard, building momentum and skipping a bar with each arc like I did on the school playground when I was little. As soon as I reach the other side, I’m dropping onto the platform below and then to the ground.
Disappearing into the dense forest beyond the training fields, I throw myself to the ground, crawling under the low-hanging barbed wires that emit magically fueled flames at random intervals.
Nothing keeps you from getting too comfortable in a mud pit like being singed, just ask the guy who went before me.
Then I come to the wooden wall climbs, five in total, each is taller and more difficult than the one before it.
Their oddly shaped grips are permanently slick from the mist that never fully burns off under the forest canopy.
The final wall stands over thirty feet high, with the grips becoming sparser.
Being as short as I am is definitely a disadvantage on this obstacle, so I leap and pray between some of the hand and foot holds.
Once I slide down the angled backside of the last wall, I run to the balance gauntlet, a series of narrow beams suspended between massive trees. Below me, a shallow pit is filled with freezing, magically charmed water that somehow leaves you even colder than it should, or so Perry said.
Almost to the end, I take a deep breath and step into the combat loop where Bravo recruits are alternating turns in the pit, challenging us to quick, intense sparring matches.
You can either win by knocking your opponent to the ground first or survive for five minutes to move on.
Surviving is better for points than being knocked out, but five minutes can make or break your ranking for the course, so I know I need to get my opponent down quickly.
As soon as I approach the ring, I know I’m screwed.
The next person in line to spar is none other than the six-foot-three, muscular man who ravaged me before joining Lucas in torturing me.
The second I step into the ring, Aiden charges, not hitting me, but testing me.
I side-step his advance and get into my fighting stance.
Years of teaching self-defense at the gym mean nothing against recruits who have trained to be at Scion.
My height and speed are advantages when I need to tire out an opponent or evade a blow in class, but I’m already racing against the clock.
I throw a few strikes, only to have him dodge them effortlessly. He’s taunting me, pushing me mentally as much as physically.
I try a leg sweep, but he steps out of it. I jab low, aiming for his stomach…he blocks effortlessly, but he left his face wide open. Without a second thought, I take the opening…
It was a trap!
He spins faster than I would think possible for someone his size and lands a clean left hook to my ribs. Crack.
Fuck! The same side that just finished healing. I suck in a deep breath to assess the damage, and the pressure of the inhale and the wheeze that accompanies it, there’s no question. Broken.
I need to get out of here. Now.
But tapping out isn’t an option. I’ve lived with this kind of pain before…worse, even.
I wait until he circles back to face me. It’s there in his eyes—the certainty that I’m about to forfeit; I can use that. Curling into myself, I crouch low like I’m going down.
He steps closer…to check on me? Knock me out? I don’t wait to find out.
Instead of dropping the rest of the way to the ground, I throw a left-handed punch into his solar plexus, my right arm tight to my face for protection.
It wasn’t nearly as hard as if it had been my dominant hand, but the natural reflex has him folding, and I know I would only get one more hit out of my right side.
I cock my right arm and slam it into his nose. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to make his eyes water as he falls to the ground, and to tear a silent scream from my lips as my ribs are stretched too far.
I should quit. I know I should. But I only have one more obstacle.
This is about to hurt like a bitch.
I grab the rope swing with both hands, clenching my teeth as I push off the first platform.
As soon as my feet leave the ground, my body lights up in agony. My raised arms now fully support my body weight as I fly through the air toward the next platform.
The key to this last part is to time the release just right, so I force myself to focus on the platform instead of the pain.
Too early and I’ll fall to the ground—only a ten-foot drop, but not fun even when your ribs are fully intact.
Too late, and I risk overshooting the platform and meeting the same ending.
Three.
Two.
One.
My fingers uncurl from the rope. I’m airborne.
And then I’m falling.
I slam onto the second platform and roll, the impact rattling my bones.
This is why most people hate this course. It wipes away your ego, exposes your weaknesses, and tests your perseverance through pain. I suppose that’s one thing I can thank my dad for. I have lived with pain far worse than this and learned to smile through it.
Forcing my shaking body to steady, I ring the bell like the salvation it is.
As I stand here, chest heaving, my ribs throbbing in time with my heartbeat, the bell’s echo fades. I stand tall, despite every breath feeling like a dagger is digging deeper into my side. I will not let it show.
But as I make my way back toward the starting point, I spot Captain Korr standing at the edge of the course, his eyes trained on me, and I can feel it; he knows. He knows exactly what happened and what I did.
His gaze travels down my body, but this time it isn’t in the heated way that it was before class. He sees the way my movements are just a little off, the slight limp in my step, the way I’m not allowing myself to take a full breath, despite the physical exertion.
“Why didn’t you tap out?” His voice is low at first, dangerous. “You’ve run this course before. You knew what came next.”
“I’m fine. I didn’t need to tap,” I manage, though my voice betrays the strain I’m trying to suppress.
He steps closer, his expression darkening. “You’re not fucking fine!” The sharp edge in his voice makes me flinch. “Your ribs are broken—you could’ve punctured a lung!
“How could you be so stupid? Why even try for that last obstacle? You could have died!”
He’s right. I know he’s right. He wouldn’t be doing his job if he weren’t scolding me—but still, all I can hear is my father’s voice. The same tone. The same volume. The same venom.
Something inside me clicks. The air pulls back. The edges of the world blur. Sound dulls. My body feels miles away. And my vision tunnels until Korr’s face fades into a distant shape, his voice muffled, distorted, like I’m underwater.
Not here. Not now. Just breathe.
Except, I can’t.
My mind folds in on itself, detaching, floating somewhere safer—anywhere but here, anywhere but with him.
I must nod at the right times because Korr’s mouth keeps moving, words tumbling out, sharp but unreadable. Then, suddenly, he’s not the one at my side anymore. A Bravo recruit is lifting me, carrying me in the direction of the infirmary.
The world drifts in and out, my body dissociating and moving on autopilot.