32. Thirty-Two
I’m a sweaty mess already, and I’m just uncomfortable enough to not give a shit about whatever hellfire Dane wants to rain down on me.
By the time the rest of them are out of the room, I’ve decided I’m entirely uninterested in Dane’s conniption fit. This may be his place, these may be his plans, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to his nonsense.
I tighten my ponytail, taking longer than necessary to do so, and really savor the way he’s huffing at me. His eyes bore into me, and I know he expects me to scramble to explain myself. But I’ve dealt with so much worse, a glare isn’t going to get me to bend, if he wants a response, he’s going to have to talk to me like an adult.
This man is the epitome of alpha lone wolf bullshit, and he clearly doesn’t get enough pushback from the guys. No one is telling him that he’s pushing too far, that he needs to back off. He may have earned their respect and trust, but he hasn’t earned mine. And from where I’m standing, he won’t any time soon.
I break the tense stare down with an eye-roll and move to the weight rack to pick up a set of dumbbells, grabbing for a heavier set than what I’ve been working with recently. Tired muscles be damned, I’m not about to let him think I’m both undisciplined and weak right now.
I don’t even know why I care what he thinks of me. I can count the number of conversations we’ve had on a single hand, and none of them have been anything other than a series of commands or an outright interrogation about my survival abilities. Every time we’ve been near each other it’s like there’s static in the air and there’s a second where I have no idea what’s about to happen. And always, right when I remember his hand on my neck, or his thumb sweeping over the back of my thigh in the woods, he walks away without another word.
I don’t know him. Outside of keeping the guys out of harm’s way, there’s no reason for me to believe he’s even a good guy.
My back is turned to him, but I’m no less aware of his presence. My body wants to turn, wants to face him, to do something, but I choke down that desire and continue with my curls. My muscles scream at me, begging me to stop, but I’m not going to let Dane see me shake or stutter. I refuse to feed into his expectations.
The shadow on the wall in front of me grows nearly twice its size, but I still don’t turn to look at him. If he wants to have it out with me, he’s going to have to say something.
I’m coming close to praying he explodes soon because I’ve curled these godforsaken weights over twenty times, and I don’t know how much more I can do.
“Are you taking this seriously?” I can feel the irritation in his voice as clearly as if it smacked me on the back of my head.
I finally let the weights down, dangling them by my hips before I turn and plaster on the most saccharine smile I can muster. “Taking what seriously, Dane?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.
I know I’m poking the bear, but it’s entirely his fault. If he didn’t storm in looking for a fight he would have seen that I’ve been doing everything I can to make sure I’m ready for this secretive job. He would have seen how strong I’ve become and how well I can fight now.
“This! All of this!” He grabs the weights from me with a gentleness that contradicts his tone and slams them onto the weight rack. Gentle and firm. Shouting, yet careful. I can’t keep track of his state with every action canceling out the previous one.
“What even is all of this, Dane?” I shout back, swinging my arms out to gesture to the whole bunker. To the room he’s cleared out for this confrontation. “You pull me out, but don’t tell me why. You share this insane plan to steal something from someone, but don’t tell me what or who or why. I don’t even know where the hell we are!”
He seethes, veins starting to bulge at his salt and peppered temples. I’m pushing him further than he has ever been pushed by the looks of it, and I half think he’s about to lose it. That he might threaten to send me back to Omni if I don’t bow to his rule.
“It’s been on a need-to-know basis.”
A nonsense non-answer. One I’m sure he’s given hundreds of times in his tight assed life.
“All of it? Everything is ‘need-to-know’? Because if I’m going to die again to further whatever your goals are, I would say I need to know why the fuck that is!”
He pauses, rubbing his thumb firmly against his index finger, probably a stand-in for clenching his fist.
Is he considering backing down?
“You have to show me you’re capable. So far I’ve seen nothing, heard nothing, about you being even vaguely prepared to take on this job.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh at him, this is absurd! “I’m here! I didn’t run off despite having dozens of chances! I didn’t leave every time you went to bed, every time you left for a supply run! Despite everything I’m still here.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine, he only reacts by crossing his arms, his fingers digging harshly into his muscles.
“You don’t think I have the stamina to keep trying to escape until you either get bored of dragging me back or decide to chain me to the floor?”
His jaw clenches.
Had he really not thought of that? Has he honestly never considered I might be here of my own volition?
It would be annoying as hell to continue trying to escape, but if I really thought that was my best shot, I absolutely would have. I would have kept going until it worked, or until I had no other choice but to comply against my will. My skin feels too tight and too hot, and suddenly shouting doesn’t feel like enough.
“You would know that if you had taken even a single second to ask me!” I plant my hands against his chest and shove him, earning myself an extra foot of space. “You’re so closed off and distant, I bet you never even considered asking! So, go on! Ask me how invested I am. Ask me how committed I am to your secret little plot.”
My hair sticks to my face in tangled, frantic wisps, and every enraged thrash of my head just collects more. I can feel beads of sweat trail down my chest and spine, but they do nothing to cool my temper. I know my eyes are lit with wild anger, and I know I’m spitting as I shout. Good. I hope I look exactly as feral as I feel. I want him to see it.
When he doesn’t ask, I keep going. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. None. For over a decade of my life, I’ve been poked and prodded and fucking tortured!”
I have to take a breath, but I can’t. I have to calm down, but my heart thunders in my chest and my breaths are too sharp in my throat. I’m close to devolving into wild, wordless screaming but I need him to hear this. I need him to know just how much of an asshole he is, so I break eye contact and force air into my lungs.
He’s still scowling when I look up, but there’s a new level of perception there. Like he’s dissecting every one of my words.
“There is nothing I won’t do to secure my own freedom. Nothing,” I whisper. I’m done yelling. My words hold enough impact on their own, and if he needs them to be shouted to understand, he’s shit out of luck. Some truths are too raw to be shouted. Some truths live only in whispers.
He’s promised me my life as a free person, and I will rip his fucking throat out with my teeth before he can break it.
I let my threat settle on my face as I stare at him. I don’t want him to miss a single gory detail. I refuse to let anyone steal my freedom from me again.
He holds my stare, assessing my honesty, my commitment to his cause, sorting through every possible way I could be deceiving him right now. I can practically see the roiling storm behind his eyes, and my own rises to meet his the longer he stays frozen.
Ages pass between us, the stubborn silence building.
“I believe you.”
I release a breath that had been caught in my throat. It feels like I just won a battle, and I want nothing more than to leave right now.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I sidestep him as gracefully as I can manage, keeping my head high and my shoulders squared.
“You still have training left.” His voice follows me, the gruffness losing a bit of its edge.
“Not today,” I say to the empty doorway, leaving him alone in the training room as I head to my room.
Over half an hour later I hear him walk out, the sound of his steps reaching me in the comfort of my space. He doesn’t come after me, doesn’t seek me out to continue our argument. Fear and hope tangle inside of me, and I can’t tell which I trust more.
Was that the explosive beginning of something new? A new relationship between the two of us?
I let that little glimmer grow, and hope that this new phase will be built on mutual understanding and respect, not just his expectations for mindless obedience and my near cellular resistance to giving it to him.