Chapter 15 Recon
The training mats smell like sweat and rubber. I’m already winded — two drills in, heart racing, ribs sore. Tex doesn’t go easy. He never does. But he also doesn’t smirk like the others. No taunts, no sneers.
Just relentless, silent pressure.
“Again,” he says, arms crossed.
I scowl, drop back into stance, and lunge.
He catches my wrist mid-air and uses my momentum to send me tumbling. I land with a hard thud on the mat, knocking air clean out of my lungs.
“Your balance is better,” he mutters, offering a hand.
I don’t take it. Instead, I roll to my feet, chest heaving. “Yeah, well, nearly dying builds character.”
His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. We reset.
Between drills, he circles me, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt.
“You read your task?”
His question makes my hackles rise. “Yeah.”
He keeps circling. “What is it?”
I hesitate.
I know better than to trust any of them. And yet…
Tex isn’t like the others. He isn’t kind — not even close — but he doesn’t toy with me like Luca or shred me like Jace and Noah. He mostly watches as if waiting to see what I do. Still, I shake my head.
“I’m not telling you.”
He raises a brow, stepping back. “Why not?”
I meet his eyes, tired and flat. “Because you’ve all been making my life a living hell since the second I got here. I don’t want you making this harder, too.”
He blinks once. Doesn’t speak.
For a moment, he stands there, jaw tense, like he wants to argue — or maybe admit something — but doesn’t know how.
Finally, he turns away and tosses me a towel. “Fine.”
I catch it. But before I can say anything else, he mutters, almost too low to hear.
“I hope you survive it.”
And just like that, he walks off the mat.
I sigh and follow him over to the heavy punching bags. I watch silently as he tapes up his hands, trying to commit it to memory so I can tape up my own.
He takes his stance. His bag rattles with brutal precision. Every strike is clean, efficient. Controlled fury.
I silently tape up my own hands, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I try to copy his strikes with the bag next to his.
No taunts. No barking commands. Just… working.
I focus on the bag and keep in mind everything I’ve been taught this far. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I pause to wipe my forehead. That’s when I feel his gaze.
“You’re not bad at this.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Careful, Ward. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
He huffs a short laugh and drops his gloves, pulling the wraps off his hands.
“You ever fight before all this?”
“Not like this.” I shrug. “Mostly stayed small and fast. Easier not to be noticed that way.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
I’m taken aback by the personal confession. I wait for the usual silence to return, but instead, he leans back against the wall.
“I didn’t grow up like the others.” He glances over.
“I had a mattress on the floor. Moved foster homes nine times. One of them had bedbugs. Another had a guy who locked us in the closet when we ‘talked back.’” His jaw tightens as the memories pass in front of his eyes.
“You learn real quick either to disappear or fight.”
My hands freeze on the tape I’d been unwrapping.
“I’m not saying this for pity,” he adds. “Just figured… you’d understand. More than anyone else here.”
I don’t say anything at first. Just meet his eyes, something flickering between us. Then I nod. “I do.”
We stand there for a second. Not training partners. Not enemies. Not Guild initiates. Just two people who have been through hell and learned how to fight their way through it.
He pushes off the wall, grabbing his towel, and tosses me a protein bar on his way out.
“Eat. You’re gonna need it.”
I spend the next couple of days mostly in silence, focusing on my task. I have five days left. I’ve gathered as much intel as I can based on the Guild files we are given access to, but I know I’ll need to do some recon. I’ll have to go tonight and maybe even tomorrow.
The academy is unnervingly quiet at night. I move through the stone halls like a ghost, each step muffled by the boots I’ve taken from the Guild armory. Black hoodie, black gloves, hair tied back, nothing to catch the light. My bag is packed with recon gear.
I turn the corner near the east wing stairwell, only to slam straight into a solid wall of muscle.
“Shit.” I stumble back, heart spiking.
Tex.
His hoodie is half-zipped, his hands in his pockets, and he looks at me like he’s only half-surprised.
“You don’t look like you’re sneaking out at all.” There’s a bit of laughter in his voice. Like he’s caught a child playing dress up.
I square my shoulders. “Should’ve known you’d lurk around in the dark.”
He gives a half-smirk. “Better than getting caught.”
There’s a beat of silence between us.
“You going after your task?”
“Why does it matter?”
He shrugs, gaze unreadable. “It doesn’t. Just curious if you are stupid enough to try it alone.”
“I have to do it alone,” I snap. “I don’t really have a choice.”
He steps a little closer, shadows catching across his jaw. “You have to do the task alone, but you don’t have to do recon alone.
I open my mouth, then shut it again. He studies me a moment longer.
“You’re right not to trust us,” he says. “But don’t confuse that with isolating yourself from other initiates. There’s a difference.”
“I can’t afford to have any of you make this harder,” I repeat.
Tex tilts his head. “You think I’d sabotage you?”
“I think you’ve all made it your personal hobby to watch me fail.”
“I grew up in a piss-soaked apartment with police sirens for lullabies. And I failed the only person who ever mattered to me.” His voice is low and honest.
My breath catches.
“I’m not the enemy, Ashthorne.” He looks at me, something raw behind his eyes. “Not tonight.”
Everything in my brain screams to walk away, to not talk to this broody brute and just get on with it. But something in my gut tells me to consider it.
“I’m not dragging you into this.”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” he chuckles. “You wouldn’t be able to. I’m choosing. That’s how Guild loyalty works. Or… supposed to.”
I scan his face one final time, and my gut wins.
“Fine. Keep up.” I walk past him, and he follows.
Tex takes us to a hidden garage where the Guild keeps vehicles for students. He hops into a nondescript car and motions for me to get in.
I give him directions as he drives, following the GPS on my phone.
Sablehall’s exterior doesn’t look like much. A three-story building with frosted glass, iron trim, and just enough disrepair to seem forgettable. But underneath… a renowned auction house. And I’m supposed to rob it.
We crouch behind a dumpster across the street. I pull out my tablet, flipping through the blueprints again. Tex peeks over my shoulder.
I scan the perimeter. Multiple guards. Security drones. An access keypad on every door. Everything about this place was designed to make people quit before they tried.
Tex taps my shoulder. “Motion trigger above the second window.”
“You’ve done stuff like this?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “Once.”
I don’t press. Don’t need to. We sit there in silence for a beat, eyes on the building, breath clouding the night air.
I keep my gaze on the flickering drone light above the security gate, but something gnaws at me. Earlier, he said he’d failed someone. I fight the urge to ask, but curiosity wins out. I turn slightly toward him, voice quiet.
“You said… that you failed someone.”
The silence stretches.
“I won’t use it against you,” I add. “I just… want to understand.”
His jaw flexes. “She was nine,” he says after a moment. “My little sister. Ellie.”
My eyes widen.
I don’t know what to say.
My chest aches. I want to ask more, but I don’t want to shatter whatever fragile thread we’ve managed to build between us.
Still, a question slips out. “How did you end up here? In the Guild?”
Tex lets out a breath — something between a scoff and a sigh.
“After Ellie… I didn’t have anyone.” He leans back against the stone wall, eyes focused on the horizon.
“So, I left the house we were in. Started fighting underground. Bare-knuckle. Stealing what I needed to get by. Ran with a bad group of guys. Eventually got arrested, was looking to spend time in Juvie.”
My brows lift.
“Then a fancy lawyer showed up with Gideon Ravencourt and they said they could offer me a different life. I was the last remaining heir to the Ward family. I was the illegitimate son from an affair. But my father’s ‘real’ son died in a car accident. So, he wanted me to represent him in the Guild.”
“Wow,” I whisper.
He nods. “So, I said fuck it. And went to live with the Ravencourts.”
I study him in the dark. The sharp lines of his face. The way he keeps his fists loose, but always half-curled.
“Do you talk to your dad?”
He shakes his head, making a face. “Nah, he wants nothing to do with me. I’m just the guy who does the dirty work while he gets to keep his status and Guild connections.”
I know without a doubt, I’m blessed to have a dad like Lucian.
“You’re not what I expected.”
He looks over, a faint smirk. “And you’re not what we expected either.”
I don’t respond to that.
“So yeah. I know what it’s like to be helpless. To be too late. That’s why I fight. Not for the Guild. For her. Honestly, if I wasn’t recruited to join the Guild, I’d probably be dead.”
The silence between us hums like static.
I reach down and tighten the strap on my glove, unsure what to do with the ache in my chest.
“I’m sorry.” The words feel dumb.
He just nods. “We should move. Guards rotate in six.”