Chapter 28
I got to the other side of Basics, but it wasn’t like that was somehow going to be enough to give me reprieve from misery.
No, even as I made my way through what was otherwise an impressive sharp shooting session, in my opinion, Elio had made a point to give me all the attention I didn’t want.
He helped me adjust my shot, admittedly in an effective way, then he gave me a firm and calculated pat in the back that sent small shockwaves through my pain receptors.
“Good work,” he said, as though he wasn’t the devil himself. “It’s really too bad you came in last for just about every other exercise though.” He let that sink in before he leaned in close and whispered. “I can’t wait until it’s just you and me on the mats again.”
Blood left my face, never to return, as it all sank in. He might legitimately be trying, and willing, to kill me.
“I can’t believe you’re such a sore loser that you lied to my unit captain and set this whole thing up just for petty revenge,” I hissed under my breath.
Elio visibly chuckled, but he kept his laugh silent, reserving this fun conversation just for me.
“I already got my revenge, sweetheart.” He moved directly behind me, and placed his hand on my rifle, like he was setting me up for another shot.
The position would look like a mentor helping to instruct a novice from any other angle, but we both knew that couldn’t have been further from reality.
He was painfully close, his body heat overwhelming me.
His size, paired with the still throbbing ache in my side, made him especially intimidating right now.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m done playing with you, Mishka.
” He placed one hand on my waist, where he drew a slow line up my side, and my whole spine stiffened at the contact.
“If anything, I think you showed me I was too quick to dismiss you, after all.” My heart was hammering as he continued upward while whispering cruel threats in my ear.
The pressure of his touch moved slowly, and I hoped with everything that it wasn’t because he’d started to figure me out.
“But I just need you to understand exactly how much power I have over you, both professionally…” His trail reached my arm then followed the contour of my shoulder muscles, his fingertips still feather light and still terrifying.
He slid that hand slowly down my arm, until his palm covered my knuckles.
I tensed with my rifle in my hand, and I held my breath as his brushed my ear, “and physically.”
Without warning, he squeezed my trigger finger, making my whole body jump—a reaction that also really fucking hurt—and sending a shot down the range. The projectile struck perfectly through the target’s heart. If it was possible to feel the pain of an inanimate object, I absolutely just did.
He released me without another word, then stepped back, ever so casually, like he’d finished correcting my form.
Shaken but pissed, I aimed and fired off five shots directly through the center of the target dummy’s neck. Every hot energy pellet scorched through its windpipe with perfect and deadly accuracy.
Elio glanced over at the dummy, then at me, and an amused smirk graced his lips, flashing only long enough for me to catch it.
While the way it had manifested was a curse, it was almost a compliment that I’d managed to make him so obsessed with me.
“Thanks for the tips. I’ll remember that for the next VR session,” I said, trying to keep my tone both level and unbothered.
My hope was that ‘Just wait until we’re both in a Shinka again’ was clearly communicated, and he was the one who was intimidated now.
Considering he laughed, it was unrealistic and exceedingly unlikely he was cowering at my words, but so was the fact that I beat him in the first place, so I was just going to try again to believe in the power of manifestation.
Now if only that power could manifest mended fucking ribs.
Though everything I said and did now was based on the assumption I was going to survive to my next VR Evaluation, which also felt unlikely.
But I had to push back against his attitude somehow.
He’d never start respecting me if I showed how scared of him I actually was.
If I’d learned anything about the way men operated in a closed society like this, or more specifically, about bullies like Elio, it was that they weren’t nearly so tough, high, and mighty the moment they weren’t completely in control.
He could literally break me, but I was confident that he’d never break my resolve.
“Marx,” Sebastian called from behind us, interrupting our little stand-off. “Can you come over here for a moment.”
“Yes sir,” Elio said, casting Sebastian a winning smile that was completely contradictory to his asshole face.
I glanced over my shoulder as Sebastian had some silent and secret discussion with my ornery roommate.
I wanted to believe that he called him over in some telepathic realization that he needed to save me, but it was more likely that they were going to discuss my future torture.
I frowned then finished up my drills. This day couldn’t be over soon enough.
When my attempt to cheat the restoration chamber rules was thwarted by the treacherous microchip in my palm that logged my sessions and stopped me from abusing its healing powers, I accepted that I was going to become a stronger and better woman thanks to my ability to endure great suffering.
The true war training was being able to fight through intense discomfort, and seeking victory despite the failings of pathetic human flesh.
That sounded good. Yeah, really good even.
I was the embodiment of fighting spirit.
I even impressed myself with the way I successfully breathed in AND out as I received my rations in the cafeteria. I walked with pretty alright posture to my empty, peaceful, human-free table.
I sat down, and I managed to hold a knife and a fork.
The sawing motions to cut into the meat slab, unfortunately, were the step too far, but in a real war, there’d be at least one or two other people to count on probably.
If not, I was okay with this being the part where I died, knowing I’d given it my all.
They’d say I was a true martyr. A warrior among warriors.
‘She performed sit-ups with broken ribs!’ they would exclaim, as they spun tales of my amazing career as the only soldier to die in boot camp.
A true queen.
I laughed at my own misery as I let my mind unwind in much needed solitude.
“Looking forward to our one-on-one sessions, Mishka.” The smooth baritone of Elio Marx made my whole body fucking jump out of its skin, as he pulled my attention from my tray to the man with the dark, richly colored skin, the modicum of piercings, the messy two-toned hair, the threateningly perfect muscles that even looked noteworthy in a uniform jacket, and the bright red, disturbingly happy eyes of my absolute worst enemy, who was, for some unexplainable reason, sitting across from me at the mess hall table.
I stared at him, blinking rapidly, in case I was hallucinating as some form of post-head-trauma mind trick.
“Are you… sitting with me?” I was still staring, still lost.
Elio rolled his fiery eyes. “Where else should I be sitting?”
I glanced at three empty tables just feet from mine, then I motioned to them vaguely with the hand on my good side. “Literally anywhere else?”
“This table has the best view.” He shrugged.
“Of what?” My voice bordered on a not-very-manly shriek. Literally the entire cafeteria was indoors. There were no windows. There were no alleged ‘views’ to be had. The only thing he had to look at here was me.
He raised a brow, a look so outwardly amused that the mere suggestion in his expression was gaslighting me into questioning if I was the crazy one right now.
“You’re so on edge. It must be stressful to be that anxious and paranoid all the time.” He seriously had the audacity to say to me, before he took a bite of his food.
I watched him chew and swallow, too aghast to form intelligible words. He took another bite, quietly enjoying his meal, and dare I say it, he even looked like he liked the taste of it.
Of course he did, because he was a fucking psychopath.
“Do you have any idea how long it takes to recover from broken ribs?” I hissed through my teeth.
“With daily use of a restoration chamber, one hour at a time, it takes thirteen days. But by day nine, it starts to feel somewhat normal.” He answered matter-of-factly. “But you still have to be careful for those last four days, or you risk a re-break.”
My expression flattened. “Do you know that because you’ve broken your own ribs, or just from observing other people whose ribs you broke for them?”
“Both,” he stated, completely nonplussed.
“But I’ve broken lots of bones. I also know how long it takes when you don’t have any medical aids if you prefer the natural approach.
I could give you time lines for orbital fractures, broken arms, collar bones…
” He paused for an extended moment. “I’ve done my share of science, for better or for worse. ”
“I bet you have.” I damn near groaned. Orbital fractures? Who do you have to piss off to get an orbital fracture?
He did have a pretty punchable face, though.
He stopped eating to make the kind of eye contact that was completely invasive and disarming at the same time. “Is this your first time breaking a bone?”
I thought about it for a moment, hating the fact that it was, in fact, my first broken bone. I nodded. “I’ve always been pretty hard to catch.” Now if he asked if it was my first hideous bruise, that was another story.