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So after I shower, change, and flop down on my bed to sleep off my hangover, I pick up my phone and send a text to a number I haven’t messaged in years. I tell Sloane to meet me at our spot on the roof of the complex after dinner, angling to finally hash things out and get some long overdue answers.
But she doesn’t reply.
And that evening, she doesn’t show.
“Alright, this is our first time running this drill, so pay attention,” I snap, ready to take someone’s head off if they so much as step a toe out of line today.
The squad fighters must sense that I’m in no mood for nonsense because they immediately quiet down, giving me their full attention.
“This is a single shooter course, but it’ll only take each of you a few minutes to get through it,” I say, throwing a thumb toward the forest at my back. “You’ll be timed. There are a total of fifteen targets set up out here, and they’re the same white paper targets you’ve been practicing with thus far. You won’t know where they’re placed until you get out there and come across them.”
I sweep a stern gaze over the gathered crowd, continuing. “The goal of this exercise is to be able to identify the target and line up your shot as quickly as possible. If you take too long to line up your shot, you won’t get a chance at many of the targets before we call time, so keep moving. This is just practice, but be sure to keep track of how you do and where you can improve, because down the road we’ll be using this drill as a test to determine your capabilities. Got it?”
“Yes, Alpha,” the squad fighters murmur in unison, nodding their heads. Some of them appear eager to begin. Others fidget uncomfortably, clearly nervous about how they’ll perform. I’m just angling to make a quick exit after overseeing the beginning of the drill because Sloane turned up to participate- and she’s the last person I want to see after she left me sitting alone on the roof for hours last night like a fucking moron.
Having gone over the basics, I step aside to allow Avery, Lo, and Ares to take over. While they start lining people up, I stride a few paces away to check over the guns and ammo again. I’ve already checked over them a few times, but I’m basically just inventing ways to distract myself from looking over at Sloane because I can feel her watching me, like she’s searching for a reaction.
I won’t allow her to make a fool out of me again. If she wants to ignore me, I’ll give her the same fucking treatment.
I distract myself a little too well, because I don’t even notice when Sloane peels away from the rest of the group to start heading my way; not until she’s walking right up to me with a goofy little smile on her lips.
“Hey,” she greets, giving me an awkward wave as I turn to face her.
I grit my teeth, eyes dropping down her form to take her in. She’s in her typical workout attire- black leggings, white t-shirt- but her clothing isn’t what catches my eye. Her cell phone is tucked into the waistband of her leggings, the top of it sticking out like a fucking taunt.
My eyes catch on it and I’m instantly annoyed. One, because the squad knows they aren’t supposed to bring their phones to practice, and two, because I sent Sloane that text over 24 hours ago and she couldn’t even dignify me with a response. I thought she’d at least have the decency to come up with some excuse for ditching me last night, but instead she’s flaunting the fact that she chose not to respond, like some sort of flex that she has the upper hand.
“What do you want?” I growl, my eyes pinging from the phone at her hip up to her face.
Her smile immediately dissolves, brows pinching together. “Wow, really?” she scowls, folding her arms over her chest. “This is how you’re gonna act?”
“What did you expect?” I ask icily.
She flinches back as if she’s shocked by my demeanor. “You’re unbelievable,” Sloane mutters under her breath.
The fact that she’s playing dumb right now only infuriates me more. And because I want her to feel just a sliver of the fucking hurt that I felt sitting up there alone on the roof last night, I go for the jugular, aiming to cut her down with my words.
“Where have I heard that before?” I muse, tapping a finger to my chin in mock consideration. “Oh, that’s right.” I pause to run my tongue over my teeth. “Pretty sure you said that the other night while you were coming all over my dick, didn’t you baby?”
The barb lands precisely how I intend it to. Sloane’s jaw goes slack, anger sparking in her eyes to match my own. Her small body is practically vibrating with it as she jerks up a hand and rears back, landing a hard slap against my cheek. I see it coming from a mile away, but I don’t stop her.
Because I welcome the pain.
Because I’m fucking dead inside.
“Fuck you!” Sloane shouts, her strained voice full of anger and indignation.
I detach from any semblance of emotion, rolling my eyes like the fucking asshole I am. “Been there, done that.”
She gapes at me again, then spins around so fast that her hair whips against my chest. Then she storms away, past the squad fighters pretending that they’re not watching our interaction with morbid curiosity, tearing off into the forest in a blur of dark curls.
I know I should derive some sense of satisfaction from provoking that reaction, but I just feel hollow inside. Because even though Sloane hurt me, I don’t enjoy hurting her. The mere thought of it makes my chest fucking ache.
With a growl of frustration, I turn around and take off in the opposite direction, bound for the complex. I hear gunshots pop off as the squad continues their drill, and something has my wolf stirring in warning.
I ignore it.
Later, I’ll wish I hadn’t.
