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Walking to my bathroom, I open the faucets in the shower and brush my teeth while I let the water run. When I pull the t-shirt over my head, I glance down at the bruises and hand imprints on my torso. Lifting my head, I stare at the cut on my bottom lip and the purple swelling under my left eye.
My body begins to tremble when I think of how close I came to being raped… killed.
Stripping out of my sweatpants and underwear, I step under the warm spray, and I let the drops pelt my skin to life. My legs shake from having to keep myself standing, and I place a hand against the tiled wall.
My stomach rolls and I quickly press my other hand to it as a wave of nausea hits.
God, I feel like shit.
Taking deep breaths, I wait for my stomach to settle, and then I wash every inch of my body. When I step out of the shower, I dry myself without looking at the bruises. On weak legs, I walk to the closet, and taking out clean clothes for training, I get dressed while anger simmers in my chest.
I’d love nothing more than to crawl into bed and to sleep the hangover away, but I can’t. I need to show Vince he didn’t get to me. I need to be stronger than ever right now.
After pulling a brush through my damp hair, I leave it to air dry as I take deep breaths in an attempt to steel myself for the day ahead. It’s not going to be easy, but I have to get through it with my head held high.
I ignore the mess in the living room, hoping the staff will have it cleaned before I return. As I leave my quarters, I glance up and down the hallway, my body on guard for a sudden attack. I feel edgy as I make my way to the stairs, and I slowly descend them.
When I walk into the dining room, I don’t look at the other patrons but head to the table in the corner. I sit with my back to the wall, and when a waiter comes, I give him a wary look.
Can I trust anything I eat and drink here?
“Cranberry juice,” I mutter. “In a sealed bottle.” When he nods, I continue, “Bacon, two eggs, and toast.”
I need the greasy breakfast to help my stomach settle, or I’ll be puking at training.
Movement catches my eye, and my gaze snaps from the waiter to Adrian as he takes a seat at my table.
“I didn’t invite you to sit with me,” I say.
Ignoring my words, he places his own order, then his eyes meet mine. “I heard what happened last night. I thought you’d want to talk business.”
“Business?”
“Gun for hire,” he murmurs.
“You can’t kill Blanco while he’s on St. Monarch’s property, so I have no use for you.”
Adrian stares at me, long and hard, and then the corner of his mouth tips up. “For the right amount, I’m willing to take the risk.”
It feels as if his words carry a double meaning, and it makes my heart rate spike.
Would Adrian really kill on the grounds and risk being banned?
“Move,” Damien suddenly growls next to the table.
Both Adrian and my heads snap up. Adrian locks gazes with Damien, and after a couple of seconds, he gets up, muttering, “Playing the hero is damaging your reputation. Careful, Vetrov.”
I watch as the two men stare at each other, and then Adrian leaves. Damien takes the vacated chair and pins me with a dark glare that I feel penetrating through the feeble barrier I’ve manage to put up after last night.
After waking in his bed, it’s harder to ignore the fluttering in my stomach and the need tightening my abdomen whenever he’s near.
“Don’t get yourself killed before settling your debt with me.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Are you going to remind me that I owe you every chance you get?”
“If you continue to place yourself in danger… yes,” he grumbles.
A frown begins to form on my forehead. “Give me an amount, and I’ll settle the debt, then you won’t have to worry.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, making him look predatory as his eyes darken. It causes a fluttering in my stomach, a mixture of nerves and attraction.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” he murmurs, his voice deep.
Luckily a server brings my order, and I get to keep myself busy with opening the bottle of juice.
“You had dinner with Adrian when you were drugged,” Damien breaks the silence, and then he rises to his feet. “That bit of information is free.”
I watch as he walks away, confused why he’d tell me that. Information is power in our world. Still, he told me.
My eyes leave Damien’s broad back and snap to where Adrian is sitting. For the right price, he’s willing to break the rules of the academy. Is he on Vince’s payroll?
