“Don’t you have an off switch?” Liam grumbles. Charlie just laughs and throws his arm around my shoulders.
It leaves me feeling a little uncomfortable, so I grab his arm and place it back at his side, patting his muscular arm so he leaves it there. Another bout of laughter erupts from the group, including Liam. I silently chuckle along with them.
“Guess you found someone immune to your charm,” Ean snarks. I simply shrug.
The training grounds are impressive. Money is not spared when it comes to training weapons and weightlifting equipment. The dorms are designed like a luxury hotel and include everything from a miniature movie theater with couches to a rec center with a pool table, dartboard, ping pong table, and an area to play poker. Their cafeteria comprises an all-out buffet fitted with round dining tables covered in white linen, silverware, and crystal glasses. They even have a spa and an indoor heated swimming pool.
The only thing missing is the guards’ academic area. I thought I would find myself in an extensive library filled to the gills with books, many classrooms with teachers, a lab room with dead animal specimens, beakers, and chemicals used for science experiments, or a music room. None of that is present. There isonly one classroom and one teacher, and after everything else, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.
At the end of the tour, I stand in front of an obstacle course. It’s vast, sporting quintuple steps, a rope swing, barrel role, what Ean calls a jumping spider wall, jump hang, spinning logs, curtain slider, and swing circle. I can’t retain the endless names Ean gives them all. He says that no one makes it through the obstacle course on the first try, and even then, only one person completed it within sixteen minutes.
I stare, imagining myself progressing through the obstacle course. I bet I could, or would at least like to, give it a try.
Nudging my shoulder, Charlie smiles down at me. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Little One?”
I shrug.
Sodie stands next to me. “I bet this Little One would give any of the recruits a run for their money.” I beam.
Liam interjects, “Nah. It’s a little more than jumping onto trees and roofs and climbing up a gate.”
I cock my head toward Liam and mirror his look of annoyance. I hope my nonverbal statement shuts him up. Instead, he breaks into a grin.
Ean claps me on the back, thrusting me forward. “I would put my money on this Little One. She’s definitely got grit.”
I flinch. That word—grit—makes me want to grind my teeth and pull out my hair, if I had any. Surprised at my knee-jerk reaction, I shake it off and elbow Ean in the stomach. I gesture toward the obstacle course, asking if I can try it.
Ean shakes his head. “Hell no, Little One. I was given specific instructions to keep you occupied and safe, which means there is no way in hell that I’m going to let you run this obstacle course.” I pout. “Come on. I told Anders I would bring you by his office.”
I fold my arms over my chest. Ean narrows his eyes and leans forward. Without saying a word, he grabs me by the waist and hefts me over his shoulder, knocking my hat and glasses off.
I pound his back with my fists and kick my legs. The roar of laughter follows us to our next destination.
Chapter 20
The Head Guard
JESSICA
EIGHT YEARS AGO:
June 25, 2016: 11:16 a.m.
Emerald Guards Training Facility
Ean pushes through the door of Anders’s office. My glasses sit askew after he harshly placed them back on my face. I push them up the bridge of my nose with my index finger and adjust my hat so the brim faces forward, instead of the haphazard way he plopped it on my head.
Anders watches me without saying a word. I study his stern expression, his rigid posture, the way his arms rest stiffly on his desk. I have never visited Anders’s office, and our interactions in my room at the clinic have been brief. But we are now in his domain.
Curiosity swells within me, and I glance around the room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves contain leather-bound books. Forgetting myself, I walk toward them and trail my fingers along their spines, reading titles as I pass.
Over the past couple of weeks, studying with Justin and Jeremy, I discovered that history is one of my favorite subjects. I especially love reading. Reading has been my solace since my vision returned, especially at night. Anders’s office offers its own little library, something I hoped to see on our tour earlier. I would love to read some of these books, everything from sonnets and classic novels to history books from all over the world on the art of war and weapons. For me, this is so much better than any clothing or makeup store.
On the far wall before Anders’s desk, a five-tier shelf holds books of various sizes and shapes. The spines are worn, cracked, and peeling from overuse. I gape at the numerous volumes, retrieve a small, slender leather book, and carefully open it. On the very first page, scrawled in neat cursive, is a name, while the second contains a date and a handwritten entry. These are not printed books but handwritten journals.
Staring at the journal in my hand, I smile. My heartbeat races with excitement. It’s like finding treasure. I want to know who wrote these. There are so many of them. Were all these written by one person? A strong urge compels me to start with the very first book. Would Anders let me read these?
Anders stands from his desk and strides toward me. “So, you like to read?” He gently lifts the book from my hand and returns it to its space. Before I can protest, he reaches for the first book on the top shelf and hands it to me. “These are journals from the original Obsidian Pack Alpha, who we now refer to as the original head guard. Of course, while most shifters can live over 150 years, many of the head guards, due to war, have not lived as long. These journals are passed down from head guard to head guard. They detail a series of events that you will never read in history texts and accounts of their personal lives.”
