Chapter Eleven
Kylo
“Bon appétit,” Carter says, flipping open the pizza box. “Made it myself.”
“You mean you picked up the phone and ordered it,” Zayne says with a laugh, then takes a bite.
“How did Lia do during training?” Carter asks.
“Before or after you all decided to turn my training room into a spectator sport?” I take a bite of the pizza.
It tastes like cardboard.
“She needed a challenge,” Carter says.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I drop the crust back into the box, the grease staining my fingers. “Marco didn’t challenge her. He assaulted her mind.”
“She interfered with the match,” Zayne interjects, grabbing a cup of ranch. “She used her powers on me. Marco did what any of us would’ve done. She needs to learn her place here.”
“She’s new. You’ve all been training together for years. She was treated like a target, not a teammate.”
“She wasn’t a target until she interjected,” Zayne argues.
“That doesn’t give Marco permission to touch her.”
Zayne shakes his head, his loyalty to Marco written in the stubborn set of his jaw.
Rules don’t justify that. Marco went too far.
“Any pizza left for me?” Marco asks, strolling in like he owns the place.
Something in me snaps. I’m across the room before the chair hits the floor. I slam him into the brick. “If you ever touch Lia again, you’re out. And unlike Abel, you won’t be walking away.”
“What the hell is this, Radshaw? You sticking your dick in that little pussy or what?”
My fist crashes into his face, bone on bone. His teeth cut into my knuckles. He lunges at me, swinging, but I duck, twist, and slam his head against the wall.
I reach for my blade holster, yanking it free before pressing the knife to his throat.
“Back off,” Zayne says, hauling me away. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”
Marco’s eyes blaze. “Fuck this. I joined your cause because I thought this was a team. You’re choosing a new, weak recruit over me?”
“No one’s siding with anyone,” Carter says firmly, stepping between us. “Lia and Leo are part of this team now. You treat them with respect, or you’re done here.”
“She broke protocol during sparring, and I’m the one taking the heat?”
“Lia hit Zayne, Marco. Not you,” Carter snaps. “You took a shot you weren’t authorized to take. Any issue regarding the twins goes through me. And you—” Carter pivots to me. “Stop breaking our teammates’ faces.”
“What’d I miss?” Leo asks, strolling into the dining room.
“I’m going out.” Marco shoulder-checks me and storms off.
“Marco and Kylo were blowing off some steam,” Zayne says, reaching for another slice.
Zayne looks at her and sees a stranger.
He hasn’t been the one catching her when she falls from the pull-up bar.
He hasn’t seen the grit in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking.
Marco’s hit hadn’t been a “lesson.” It was a hunt.
He didn’t want her to learn.
He wanted her to break.
Against someone untrained, she might last a few seconds.
Against someone with real power? Marco proved how thin that margin is.
Something tightens in my chest.
I’ve seen Lia train every day. I know how she moves when she’s cornered, and the way her eyes dart for the exit before her hands curl into fists.
But today, when Leo went down, she didn’t run. She stepped forward.
She didn’t freeze.
That’s the part I can’t stop circling back to.
Leo drops into the seat across from me, a stack of pepperoni pizza on his plate.
“Why did she do it?” I ask. “Why did Lia jump in for you?”
“We’re twins,” Leo says, taking a sip of his soda. “We look out for each other.”
“The Lia I train would rather vanish into the floorboards than fight.”
Leo swallows. “Circumstances alter variables.”
I saw the way her pupils expanded when Zayne landed that hit on Leo.
That reaction didn’t come from nowhere.
“Such as?” I push.
He stops chewing. “Not my business to tell.”
“Enough about what happened today,” Zayne groans. “Let’s talk missions. Any word on new Aether Hunter activity?”
“Nothing yet,” Carter says. “Elijah’s men came up empty too. The only thing that turned up was a house fire a few miles from here. Might be worth checking out.”
“Sweet. Sign me up,” Zayne says. “I’d rather be in the field than cooped up here.”
“You ready for your first mission?” Carter asks Leo.
“I need a break from training and mediating,” Leo replies.
“You and Zayne will investigate the fire tomorrow. I’ll stay here.” Carter looks at me. “Marco stays on guard duty. Kylo, you’ll train Lia as usual.”
When we don’t have new recruits, I’m in the field with Carter, tracking hunters. Since Lia arrived, missions fall to him. Instead, I’m stuck training the most infuriatingly stubborn woman I’ve ever met.
One who still hasn’t bothered to show up for dinner.
“Where’s Lia?” I ask Leo.
“She didn’t answer the door. I think she’s sleeping.”
I doubt it.
Not after the way she looked earlier. I watched her go from morning drills straight into the sparring ring without so much as a protein bar.
For a moment this morning, I let my guard drop. Her head is a riot of noise that I have no interest in hearing. Carter told me to ease up. I did. Except she was late again. I opened my mouth, ready to drill into her, but when she got close, her thoughts slipped through.
Her lack of sleep. Nightmares. The exhaustion.
Despite that, she still stepped onto the mat.
I stand, grab an empty box, and fill it with a few slices of pizza. I add napkins and a container of ranch in case she wants it.
Leaving the dining room, I head down the hall toward her room.
At her door, I knock once and wait.
Nothing.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
I pound, harder this time.
No response.
I’m about to hit the door again when it swings open. My fist freezes midair.
Her eyes, wide and frenzied, snap to mine. “What are you doing? I thought you were Leo.”
She’s standing in a thin white tank top that clings to her damp skin. The fabric is nearly translucent in the low light, pinched where her nipples press against the cotton.
It leaves too much visible. Pink shorts hug her hips, the hem riding high on her thighs, showing legs that are leaner than they were when I first met her.
Her hair is twisted into a messy knot, still wet. A few strands cling to the curve of her neck. My fingers twitch. I shove my free hand into my pocket.
When my gaze reaches her face, the defiance I expect isn’t there. Her eyes are rimmed red, swollen.
“You missed dinner.” I raise the box. “Eat. I’m not training a zombie tomorrow.”
She studies the food like it might bite.
I shouldn’t be here.
“Do you want to come in?” She opens the door, stepping aside.