by Elodie Colt
Dylan was offering help? Help with what, I wondered? A look at his face told me he felt as uncomfortable as me. I felt bad for him. I didn’t want to drag him into this and bother him with my personal issues.
Suddenly, his hand was on my chin, forcing my eyes back to his. “Promise me,” he repeated emphatically, and he wouldn’t let go of me until I agreed, so I gave him a quiet,
“I promise.”
Averting my eyes again, I looked instead at the monstrous wall that was the last obstacle in the parkour. I recalled how Dylan had rushed to my side and relocated my shoulder in one swift move in my first week here. It had hurt like hell.
Dylan followed my gaze and turned back to look at me. “Wanna try?”
“What, the wall?” Dylan nodded. “I don’t know.”
“I can see how it’s affecting you whenever you look at that wall. You desperately want to do that jump, don’t you?”
I slowly exhaled, eyeing the wall with apprehension, as if it was the greatest opponent I’d ever had to face. Well, in a way, it was. “Yes, but I’m terrified,” I admitted.
“Don’t let fear overrule, Haylie. Let it in and conquer it. Come on, I’ll help you.”
I hesitated, but one look at Dylan was enough to assure me I was safe with him. “Okay.”
We headed over to the wall, me stopping a few feet in front of the trampoline, Dylan on the other side near the mattress behind—the exact one I’d missed landing on last time.
“Let’s leave your ability out of this for a second. Jump on the trampoline, grab the handlebars on the wall, and get over to the edge, okay? Don’t hurry. Just do a warm-up.”
I nodded, wiping my sweaty hands on my training pants before rubbing them together to brace myself for the impossible. I took in my stance, not daring to glance at the wall before making my jump in case my mind wanted to play games again, catapulting me back to the night of Shawna’s murder.
Taking one last breath to settle my nerves, I darted forward, only to halt in front of the trampoline, panic winning the upper hand once again.
“Fuck!” I cursed loudly, biting onto my fist. I felt like a little girl, back to when I’d desperately tried to gather the courage to cliff-jump into the sea. It had taken me seven attempts and one entire hour, much to my parents’ annoyance.
“It’s alright, Haylie,” Dylan soothed.
“What if the same thing happens like last time?”
“I’ll catch you. I’m prepared this time,” Dylan replied confidently.
“Catch me? That’s one hell of a risk, Dylan. I could break your neck.”
Dylan chuckled, not in the least bit worried. “Have a little faith in me, Haylie. Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you.”
And as if he knew what word was missing to complete the sentence, he added in a lower voice, “Always.”
Time froze, and I stopped dead in my tracks. No way had Dylan just said those words—the exact words the man from my dreams a long, long time ago had whispered into my ear.
Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you. Always. These had been his words before we both jumped into the unknown, and I’d wakened with a rapid heartbeat.
What did that mean? Did it even mean something, or was I imagining things? I shook my head to clear it. This was not the time for distractions.
I sprinted, jumped on the trampoline, and grabbed a handlebar. I hit my knee hard on the unrelenting wood but bit back the pain.
“Yes, that’s it!” Dylan shouted from below. “Now get over that fucking wall!”
I heaved myself up, my strength already drained from the morning exercise, and swung my legs over the edge, letting my body fall to the mattress below. I made a neat roll to slow the impact. Done.
“That was really good. Try again,” Dylan encouraged, and I headed back to the trampoline.
I managed the jump five times in a row without any major difficulties until Dylan wanted me to take the next step. I was slowly gaining confidence.
“Remember, the first day you lost control because you didn’t use your ability on purpose. Fear triggered it out of nowhere. You have more control over it now, but don’t take too much, just do it in little steps,” Dylan advised, motivating me as best as he could.
Charging the wall again, I honed in on my ability before hitting the trampoline. I took five strands of particles and was catapulted high enough to almost reach the wall’s edge. On my second try, I jumped a few inches higher.
My last try was a disaster—I hit the top of the wall with my thighs, toppling over the edge and dangling there, my body folded in two like a bed sheet on a clothes line. Dylan roared with laughter as he watched me struggling to get out of my misery. Well, at least one of us was enjoying this.
If I found the right amount of strength, I could jump over the wall without even touching it. So I ran for it again, activated my ability and jumped high. Before reaching the peak, I drew in my legs up to my chin. I quickly spun the particles in my center downward when I realized I was going to miss the mat again, but there was no need to bother because strong hands engulfed me, the air leaving my lungs all at once.
Dylan had caught me as promised.
But the scent was different, and his muscles were not as hard. It was not Dylan who was holding me. It was—
Cole.
“Wha…”
“You!” Dylan’s enraged outcry echoed through the vast space. “Get your hands off her and get the fuck out of my training room, or I swear I’ll—”
“Just wanted to make sure our Natural here lands safely,” Cole interrupted Dylan’s rant with a mocking grin, and I struggled in his arms to get free. As soon as his grip loosened, I wriggled out of his hold and stepped back.
“You know I would have caught her,” Dylan retorted, stepping in front of Cole.
“That may be so, but I was faster. I always am,” he added with a cocky grin. Shit. Cole was enjoying playing with Dylan’s patience. The tension was already touchable.
“You son of a—”
“Okay, okay!” I intervened, trying to calm them down. Quickly stepping in, I put a hand on both of their chests, which sandwiched me in between them. “How about…” I started, but Cole ignored me.
“What’s the matter, Dylan, huh?” he challenged with an arrogant nod of his chin and stepped closer, which resulted in him standing very close to me. Something like a growl rumbled through Dylan’s chest, and his hand dipped to my waist, tugging me to him and making a statement about where I belonged. Cole’s eyes followed the movement with keen interest. “Afraid I’ll take your girl?”
I felt Dylan’s heart skip a beat under my hand and my own followed suit. Was I his girl?
“Afraid to break your neck if you don’t get out of my way. Now.”
“Guys!” I tried again, shoving at them a second time, but it was like trying to budge two trucks with bare hands. I was close to making use of my ability but thought better of it, afraid I’d end up hurting the wrong one. “Can’t you just stop for a second? You’re acting like teenagers.” I noticed Dylan’s nostrils flare, and Cole’s jaw twitch in anticipation.
Another thought occurred to me. Why was I even bothering?
“Huh, you know what?” I withdrew with raised hands in a sign of defeat. “Fight it out. I think it’s long overdue.” Both heads snapped in my direction. At first, I’d seemed to be invisible to them, but now, I clearly had their attention. “It would have happened, anyway. Go ahead, have your battle. No rules, except one,” I added, and Dylan raised a brow in question to me taking the lead in this. “No Regenerators to heal you afterward, only in case of fatal injuries. You want to fight like men, you’ll take it like men.” Both men squared their chests simultaneously, accepting the challenge.
Cole’s eye twitched, though, and I shot him a look as if to say “Have a problem with it?” but he just remained silent and focused on his opponent.
Roes always depended on Regenerators to heal them. None of them knew how to deal with pain an
d natural healing. None of them knew what to do when a Regenerator wasn’t available. Dylan grinned. He wouldn’t have wanted a Regenerator to heal him afterward, anyway. I knew him too well by now.
“Agreed?” I asked to make sure. Cole and Dylan eyed each other for a second and then nodded. I stepped back to give them space, quickly pulling out my phone and texting Chris to come immediately, just in case the entire thing got out of control.
Dylan cracked his knuckles in anticipation, and I saw the excitement glinting in his eyes at finally getting the chance to do what he was born for. After all, he couldn’t outrun his nature. I just hoped he knew what he was doing. Dylan was an outstanding Fighter. I’d bet every cent on him, but what were his chances against a Racer like Cole?
And then Dylan made the first move.
I’d seen Dylan fighting that day he’d tracked me down to my apartment, but that was nothing compared to what I witnessed now. He was driven by violent anger and fierce determination, his movements swift and calculated, every punch and kick dead-center. His eyes were ablaze with the thrill of the fight, his muscles tense all over his body, and his eyes as dark as the ones of a lethal predator.
It was well known that Dylan was the best Fighter in the compound, and I hadn’t doubted his skills for one second, but seeing him in action was like watching a killing machine in its element—striking and terrifying. It was only now I realized how hard Dylan held back whenever he trained with me. My power may have been just as lethal, but one real punch from Dylan could end me in a heartbeat.
Cole, on the other hand, struck as fast as a snake. While Dylan went on the offensive, making one move after another in complex combos similar to a highly skilled ninja character in a video game, Cole waited until finding an opening before striking. His movements and reflexes were quicker than I could even comprehend. If Dylan aimed a fist at him, Cole would race behind him and kick him in the back.
After a few minutes of watching them, I started to see a pattern in Dylan’s tactic. He knew he needed to be one step ahead if he wanted to beat a Racer like Cole. His first moves didn’t hit the target, but it was not that he missed, he just wanted his opponent to react in a certain way, luring him into a false sense of security, so when Cole would materialize behind Dylan, he was ready to strike quickly.
However, Cole couldn’t outmatch Dylan’s strength, just as Dylan couldn’t outmatch Cole’s speed. Thus, Cole dished out more often, but his blows had less of an impact than the few deadly punches Dylan aimed at Cole, causing him to splatter blood all over the floor whenever a part of Dylan’s body connected with him.
“You’re getting slow, Dylan,” Cole teased after sidestepping six punches and four kicks in a row.
“You’re sure?” Dylan countered with confidence, feigning a high strike, but he switched directions quickly, jabbing his knee into Cole’s ribs. This caused Cole to double over from the impact, and Dylan used his bent posture to swiftly drive an elbow under his chin, making Cole’s head snap back.
Chris rushed into the room, his mouth wide open at taking in the fight in the training hall. He was about to shout, probably yelling at them to stop, but I beat him to it and ran over to him.
“What’s going on here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I waited for Chris to ask me if I’d lost my mind for allowing them to smash each other’s heads but instead, a crooked smile came over his lips, and he nodded, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
“About time for a bloody fight down here.”
As the door to the main hall now stood wide open, it didn’t take long for the others to file in and watch the show. The news of an ongoing fight must have spread quickly because soon, also Lauren, Sarah, Scott, and Cassie came, their training lessons apparently not as entertaining.
A dull thump made me refocus on the fight displaying in front of me. Cole had just given Dylan one hell of a clout, creating a huge laceration on his eyebrow, but Dylan just shook his head and was back in the game immediately, grabbing Cole’s shirt and bowling him straight into the set of tires set up on the ground.
“Who do you think will win?” Lauren whispered into my ear.
“Well, I bet on Dylan, but Cole is damn fast.”
The rest of Cole’s guarding team filed in as well. Tamara, the girl with the heavy side-cut, sniffed. “You could smell the overload of testosterone from a mile away,” she muttered, clearly annoyed. I remembered she was a Tracer.
“Oh no,” Kim, the sweet girl with the brown bob whined. “Is there one day Cole doesn’t get caught up in a fight? With that many injuries, I’ll be healing him for the rest of the day.”
I gave her a smile. “No need. Regenerators are forbidden this time, except in case of fatal injuries. I figured they should feel the pain.” Kim blinked in astonishment, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, but then a grin formed on her face.
“Finally, a fair fight,” came a deep and rumbling voice behind me, and I turned to see it was the one with the scarred face who had spoken. Harvey, I recalled, although I didn’t remember his ability.
Then, something big, black, and heavy flew with a hellish speed through the air.
“Get out of the way!” Jared shouted to a bunch of people who were standing in the field of fire, and they all hurried to get out of line. Patricia, the second Racer in Cole’s team, rushed forward to help the ones who were too slow.
Dylan ducked just in time, and the flying object smashed against a wall, bouncing to the floor—it was a tire Cole had thrown at Dylan like a Frisbee. Cole cursed when realizing he’d missed and quickly sought refuge on one of the ropes dangling from the ceiling. He was fast as a saurian climbing them, but Dylan wouldn’t let him escape.
Snatching the rope, he swung it around his forearm with such efficiency, one might think he was a cowboy who’d been born handling a lasso, and after he had a good grip, yanked with an almighty cry rumbling through the hall. A cracking sound made us all gasp as the rope came off its hinges and trickled to the floor with Cole still dangling from it. Cole managed to grab the next rope at the last second, but he was already within Dylan’s reach.
Dylan’s hand shot out and closed around his ankle. One powerful wrench was enough to rotate Cole through the air like a discus, until his torso connected with one of the high bars. He grunted and collapsed to the ground.
Cole struggled to get to his feet, Dylan already chasing after him, but then Dylan’s hand flew to his side where he seemed to be badly wounded. His knees gave out under him, and he hissed in pain as he caught his weight with one hand. My stomach churned at seeing the bruises covering his forearms and face.
The hall fell completely silent as everyone waited for one of them to regain the upper hand, but instead, slow claps echoed through the hall, clearly coming from only one pair of hands. Everyone turned to the source.
It was Jimmy.
Oh no. I hadn’t counted on Jimmy coming down here. He seemed to always be glued to his office desk and never agitated by anything, but whoever was sitting in the control room must have informed him about the commotion down here. Dylan would surely get in trouble for this, all because of me.
“Great fight, guys,” Jimmy complimented, still clapping his hands, but no one joined in. Dylan groaned when he saw Jimmy approaching, probably dreading the worst. Cole managed to roll onto his stomach from where he tried to get back to his feet. Blood ran from his nose over his chin, splotching the floor with red.
“Feel better now?” Jimmy asked Dylan who wiped some blood from his mouth in a defiant gesture instead of answering. “This fight is over,” Jimmy directed at the crowd before turning to the two wounded men. “Take the day off. Tomorrow, you’ll clean up the mess you made and repair what you ruined.” With that, Jimmy turned on his heels and headed back the way he’d come, the crowd parting for him.
Jimmy had dealt with the situation as professionally as always, but I feared Dylan would get to feel his rage later. I jogged through the crowd to cat
ch Jimmy, apologizing for bumping into the people surrounding me.
“Jimmy,” I called out, and he stopped to face me. “I’m so sorry about this,” I muttered when I was within hearing range.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because it was my idea. I told them to go ahead. Please don’t blame Dylan.”
Jimmy gave me a crooked smile, his white teeth a sharp contrast against his black skin. “I don’t. We now have cameras in that training hall. I was watching the entire show. It was quite entertaining, I must say.”
“You saw everything and didn’t come to intervene earlier?”
“They’re grown-ups. They can make their own decisions. And hopefully, they’ll learn how to deal with the consequences,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder and leaving without another comment. I let out a relieved sigh.
I hurried back through the people already scurrying out, now that the action was over. Cassie stood aside, apart from the crowd, her arms crossed over her chest and a mischievous smile plastered on her lips. What was the matter with her?
As soon as Cassie caught me looking, she grinned even wider and left the room without a backward glance. Shouldn’t she be the one to hurry to Dylan’s side, asking him if he was okay? Weird. It was almost as if she’d enjoyed seeing Dylan beaten up.
I couldn’t bother about it right now and jogged to where Dylan sat on a bench, Chris and Scott bent over him. Cole was still lying where he’d landed, his team scurried around him. Kim reached for him, clearly concerned, but he smacked her hand away and shook his head. At least he took the no-Regenerator rule seriously.
“… one hell of a move.” I heard Chris say in excitement. “This cut will need stitching.”
“I can do that, no problem,” I announced, squatting down next to Dylan.
“I’m fine,” he said but winced after rolling his shoulder, as if testing it. “I just need a shower, and then we can continue with your training.”
“Are you insane? Those wounds need tending to, and you need some rest. Come on, get up,” I ordered.
Before Dylan could say anything else, I directed Chris with, “Take him to his room and let him shower to wash off the blood. I’ll take a quick one, too, and grab my med stuff. I’ll be with you in a few.”
