Untamed

Chapter 23

chapter

twenty-three

Ender

There are a dozen enforcers anticipating my return when I step inside. My jacket lies in my arms, the sleeve shorn where the bullet kissed my skin.

Haven walks beside me, undaunted by the men who hover around me.

She doesn’t give me a second look before she heads off in the direction of her squad.

Her hips swaying dangerously as she crosses the room.

I clench my jaw, the unrepentant little thing; she isn’t even slightly remorseful that she shot me.

Knox rushes to my side, followed by a short enforcer whose brows are grazing his hairline.

“Ender,” Knox says. “I heard you were attacked.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Warrick got trigger-happy.”

“She shot you?” he asks incredulously.

“Correct.”

“And she’s alive?” Knox asks.

“Unfortunately.”

I grab a glass of whiskey from a passing server and drain it in one go.

I roughly undo the button across my throat.

People are staring at me. My jacket is gone, and the tail of my shirt is knotted around my bicep and stained with blood.

This isn’t exactly a good look for the man who spoke about strength and order a few minutes ago.

My father would have a heart attack if he saw me right now.

“You need to see a doctor,” Knox says. “And we need to arrest her. Look, I like her, but she is a threat to you.”

“I am not afraid of her,” I say, giving him a warning look. “She’s being a brat and trying to get my attention. If anyone lays a finger on her, I will sever the hand that touched her, understood?”

Knox’s eyes widen. For a moment, I think he is surprised by my threat. It isn’t my most creative one, but the next words he speaks confirm that he is more appalled at the sentiment of me protecting her than my choice of words.

“Do you like her?” Knox asks.

I slam down my glass, a bit harder than I intended.

“I’m going to change, before dinner is served,” I say.

I turn on my heels and vanish under the arch. The sound of boots thudding behind me hints that Knox isn’t done with his line of questioning.

“Unless you plan to button my shirt, I don’t need you following me around,” I say.

“You do like her,” Knox accuses.

“Don’t be ridi—”

“Sullivan was looking for her.”

I turn around so fast that Knox vanishes for a second. I march back towards the Hall. Fists clenched tight by my side.

Knox grabs my elbow.

“Sullivan isn’t at the celebration,” he says.

“You just said he was,” I snap. “Or am I losing my hearing?”

“I was testing a theory,” he muses.

I reach for his throat to strangle him, but he just disappears using his powers. I spin to my right, when his chuckle gives him away, and my fist rams into a hard form. A choking sound fills the space along with a dull thud before Knox reappears flat on his back.

“That hurt,” he moans, rubbing his stomach. “I can taste my lunch.”

“Got you,” I say with a smile.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

I offer him my hand, and he clasps it. I expect it when he pulls hard, attempting to throw me off balance, I just twist his wrist until he concedes.

“You win!” he exclaims.

“I always win.”

I pull him up, and he glares at me as he fixes his blazer.

“She’s not your wife, Ender,” Knox says. “I know you suspect her of duplicity, but if you’re wrong, then that means you are attracted to your wife’s sister. And that’s just bad, man.”

“Who is falling for their wife’s sister?” a familiar voice asks.

Great, the last person I’d ever want to hear a word of this just strolled down the hallway. Spider. He’s grinning ear to ear, brown eyes dancing between Knox and me.

“I want to know,” he says. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Ender,” Knox answers.

“What the hell, Fraser?” I say exasperated.

Everyone knows not to confide in Spider.

“I couldn’t resist.” Knox shrugs. He grabs Spider’s chin, tilting his face towards me. “Who can deny, sweet cheeks?”

Spider smiles, batting his lashes at me.

I fold my arms across my chest, not swayed by his charm.

“You called him an ugly little shit yesterday,” I say.

Spider gasps, turning on Knox.

“You did?”

“Sorry,” Knox says sheepishly.

“Forget what you think you heard or know,” I say to both Knox and Spider, but my gaze fixates on the latter. “And I swear, one word about this to anyone, including her, and I will slit your throat.”

I lock him in place with the full force of my glare.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, get lost, both of you,” I say.

“Is the sister you speak of Mercy, because I think—”

Knox hits him on the back of the head, silencing him, which is the right move, because I am one second away from putting a bullet in both their heads.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

I don’t often attend the training sessions for Black Star unless I have an itch to torment the recruits. Or rather, one recruit in particular.

I’m on the deck, boots planted on the mesh platform, arms folded across my chest. They are running back and forth across the room, doing their daily cardio session. My eyes find her unwillingly. She is taking the lead, and the recruits on Orion’s team don’t like that.

I watch as the blond-haired, bulky one—Aric—sticks out his leg, tripping her. Haven collapses on the ground, palms scraping the ground.

I grit my teeth and watch as she dusts off her pants and flips him off.

I whistle, and Orion looks up. He makes his way up the stairs to speak with me.

“Yes, sir?”

“Your recruit is playing dirty,” I say. “Remind him that any petty gestures from this moment onward will be punished.”

Orion clears his throat.

“Respectfully, sir, this is a training course to weed out the weak. You said only the last survivor is granted a place on our unit,” Orion says. “Should we not let them handle their own hierarchy? The girl is a Common. The weakest of the bunch, it is natural—”

“There is nothing natural about a grown man pushing a girl,” I snarl. “And if you think otherwise, you do not deserve a spot on this unit either.”

Orion straightens. “I meant no offense. I’ll speak to Aric.”

Orion turns to leave, but he hesitates.

“Why the change of heart?” he asks. “Aric has been messing with her for weeks.”

“My motivations do not matter,” I say coldly. “Just see to it that it is done.”

Orion nods and heads in Aric’s direction.

Haven is drinking from a tin bottle when I approach.

Her brows furrow as she lowers it. A bead of water clings to her bottom lip, which she wipes away with the back of her sleeve.

“What do you want?” she grumbles.

Her bad tone brings a reluctant smile to my face.

I lean against the gray stone pillar. The recruits are filtering out the door.

Most of them are limping and battered. Haven doesn’t look any better; there is a dark, violet bruise on her cheekbone, and her braid is coming undone, the raven strands spilling down her back like threads of silk.

Her bangs are getting longer, slightly shielding her bright eyes.

“You were adequate today,” I say.

“Wonderful,” she says, staring at the ceiling as if she is mustering up the patience to deal with me. “Your useless, backhanded compliment was exactly what I needed right now.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” I say.

“Don’t be insufferable,” she responds.

“My arm is healing well, in case you were concerned.”

Haven frowns. “I shot you on purpose. Why would I care?”

“You’re a nasty piece of work, Warrick,” I say. “Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Not anyone whose opinion I valued.”

She slings her duffel bag over her shoulder and heads inside without a word. I follow.

Haven glances back at me, her brows knitting in confusion, as she quickens her pace.

The moment the women’s locker room sign comes into view, her strides lengthen as she races towards it.

“Wait,” I begin, but she dives inside, grinning as the door slams in my face.

She probably expects me to retreat, but I barge in after her. It is thankfully empty. I would hate to scare a bunch of my female recruits in the pursuit of Haven Warrick.

Most people use the bathrooms in their private rooms. Block A has the best living quarters of all the other buildings since it was designed to train the best of the best.

“You can’t be in here!” Haven exclaims. “Get out.”

“I think you’ve forgotten that I own this place,” I say.

“What do you want then?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. Her green eyes stare venomously at me. “You have five seconds.”

I don’t quite know why I sought her out. In fact, I usually try to avoid her unless necessary.

“Time’s up,” she spits.

She doesn’t give me a second to gather my thoughts before she spins around, yanking her locker open.

She slips her shirt over her head, muscles shifting under the light as she strips down to her tank.

A few birthmarks are scattered across her back; three of them are clustered, resembling the shape of a star.

It is kind of pretty, I suppose. But I am too pissed off to appreciate it. I don’t like to be ignored.

I slam her locker shut, and she jumps, brushing against me.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” I snap. “Ever.”

Haven spins around. Her cheeks are red and blotchy from her training. And also because she is enraged.

“What is your problem?”

“You,” I hiss. “You are my problem. You—”

The words tighten in my throat.

Why am I here? Why am I antagonizing her and relishing it?

I pause, and when I speak again, my voice is less destructive.

“I came to ask if you are attending the engagement party this Saturday?” I ask.

“Of course. I always support my sister and, in this case, pity her as well,” she says nastily. “I’d shoot myself in the foot if I were tied to you for life.”

“You always say it like that?”

“What?”

“You call her ‘my sister’. I reckon it’s hard to keep up with the changed names, isn’t it, Mercy?”

“When are you going to drop this?” Haven asks.

I have beaten this subject to death, but I can’t do anything without proof or a confession. And her lips are sealed tighter than a vault.

“The second you admit that you are my wife,” I say.

“Why do you want to be married to me so bad?” she asks. “Do you like me or something? I was just teasing that night when I said it, but it’s starting to seem like the truth.”

That night in my guest room, she implied that I had feelings for her.

Her arrogance knows no bounds.

“I can’t stand you,” I say between clenched teeth.

“Likewise,” Haven replies. “So, let’s be glad that fate hasn’t paired us together.”

“I’m ecstatic,” I bite out.

“I’m jubilant.”

“I am euphoric.”

I can’t believe I am wasting my precious minutes playing this silly game and indulging her. Maybe the shallow cut she left me with is infected. Maybe I am stuck in a feverish hallucination.

“I am elated,” she finishes. “I can do this all day.”

“Me too.”

I’m the first to retreat. She’s too close for comfort. I can count every damn lash on her eyes. Even her sweat smells sweet to me. There must be something wrong with me.

“Leave me alone, Vale,” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “I don’t enjoy this repertoire. And your intimidation tactics and unending accusations are growing stale. If you wish to speak with me, we will do so in public where there are witnesses.”

“I’m the one who should be asking for witnesses, not you,” I say. “In case you forgot, the last time we were alone, you shot me.”

Her mouth twitches. She finds it funny.

“You deserved it.”

“There is nothing between Clover and me,” I explain. “There never has been.”

“It didn’t seem that way,” Haven says, with narrowed eyes. “She looks at you like you put the stars in the sky.”

“How do I look at her?” I ask.

Haven hesitates.

“You don’t,” she says reluctantly.

“Exactly,” I say. “I cannot control how women look at me, but I can control how I react. I am loyal, Warrick. Always have been, always will be.”

Haven glances down at the floor before she looks up at me under her lashes. The words come out so fast that it takes me a second to realize what she said.

“I’m sorry for shooting you,” she mumbles. “I don’t think my sister would approve of my methods.”

I can’t believe she apologized. She is the last person whom I’d ever expect to show remorse.

Haven is bold and reckless and perhaps a little bit insane.

She doesn’t fear me or any form of authority.

She doesn’t bend her neck or make herself smaller to fit in.

It’s the reason so many of her peers despise her.

She doesn’t behave the way a Common would.

She doesn’t fit her position in society.

She is unlikable and utterly indifferent to public opinion. It is a rather refreshing trait to discover in a world where most people aim to blindly serve. Sometimes it frightens me, just how much control my father has over the people. And how Haven would probably not falter in his presence.

“Get some rest,” I say. “We have a mission tomorrow.”

Her eyes widen in excitement.

“Easy,” I say, before she gets ahead of herself. “You’ll be my backup. One foot out of line and that’ll be your last mission until training ends, understood?”

Haven nods. “Got it.”

She offers me her hand to shake, seemingly agreeable, all of a sudden, as if I will rescind my offer at the merest hint of disobedience. Her eyes glitter like emeralds, and my mouth softens as I clasp her hand. Her palm is small and delicate. It sinks into mine as if it belongs.

I hold onto her for longer than is appropriate. Until she shifts uncomfortably on her feet. Fear races across her eyes, and she hastily pulls her hand away, erasing my touch on the fabric of her trousers.

I clench my empty hand, resisting the urge to reach for her, and demand that she never pull away from me again.

I have to fix whatever is wrong with me before I do something I regret.