The sound of a booming voice talking up ahead has me quickening my pace. I’m obviously a little late, and it’s not the best way to make a first impression.
Rounding the corner, I spot the correct door and step through it. A line of about ten people, all similarly attired to me, is facing a tall glass window that wraps around the entire room, offering impressive views of the rear of the property including the vast assault course we will shortly become acquainted with.
“How good of you to join us, Initiate Westbrook,” the man with the booming voice says, slanting a displeased look my way.
He’s in his forties, if I had to guess, of average height and strong build with wide shoulders and big arms. Ink creeps up over his shirt collar, up his neck, and onto one side of his face. His shaved head glistens as the bright overhead lights beat down on us, and the glare on his face almost matches it in intensity.
“Apologies, sir,” I say, offering no explanation.
“Get in line,” he snaps. “And don’t make this a habit.”
Asshole.
“Yes, sir.”
I walk to the end of the line without looking at any of my fellow trainees. I stop beside a tall guy with shorn black hair as the instructor speaks again, explaining the process.
The guy beside me angles his head, risking a quick glance in my direction when the instructor looks away, and I stare into familiar hazel eyes with mounting horror. He shoots me a brief smile before facing frontward when the instructor’s gaze swings this way. I conceal my shock and stare straight ahead, wondering what the actual fuck is going on, because I have no clue why Bryant Eccleston—an Arrows member and Darrow’s number two—is undergoing The Sainthood’s initiation.
CHAPTER 10
Harlow
“FOLLOW ME,” INSTRUCTOR Corr says, marching toward the side exit. I’ve barely heard a word he said because I’m in a tailspin trying to figure out why Bryant is here. Bry smirks as we follow the line and head outside.
There’s a distinct chill in the air, but the skies are clear, and the day is bright. We walk down a few flights of stairs, trailing the instructor as he leads us to a small wooden station, manned by the same man who was in the inspection room. “Get your time tracker from Instructor Tanner,” our instructor commands, and we all comply.
Instructor Tanner fits the small round digital device to the pocket of my shirt, pressing in firmly against my chest, his fingers brushing my breast. A loud throat clearing captures our attention, and everyone looks up. My mouth hangs open as I spot the overhead walkway and the four assholes leaning against the side, staring at me.
Saint pins Instructor Tanner with a lethal look, one that conveys possessiveness and a clear threat, before his eyes move to my side. He stares at Bryant with the usual impassive face he wears, so I can’t tell if his presence is a surprise to him or not.
“Listen up,” Instructor Corr says, clapping his hands and reclaiming our attention. “You’ll be split into two groups, but this isn’t a team exercise. The purpose of the general skills test is to ascertain basic levels of fitness and coordination. After that, we’ll assign you to a group for the duration of the week, based on matching skill sets.”
He breaks the line into two even groups, which means I’m going out the same time as Bryant. The instructor is busy issuing commands to the first group, so I risk whispering to Bry. “Why are you here?”
“I’m beginning initiation,” he coolly replies. “Same as you.” He winks, and I narrow my eyes.
We both look straight ahead as we conduct a whispered conversation. “You’re an Arrow.” I state the obvious.
“Not anymore.”
“Why?”
Bry glances sideways at the instructor. “I’ll tell you later. Best not to get on that asshole’s bad side.”
I harrumph. “Since when do you care about shit like that?”
“Initiate Westbrook,” the instructor barks. “Care to share with the group?”
“I was just telling Initiate Eccleston how excited I am for the training.” I plaster a fake smile on my lips.
The instructor walks up to me, putting his face all up in mine. “There’s a reason women don’t belong in The Sainthood. Five seconds in your company isn’t convincing me I’m wrong.”
“You’ll be eating your words by the end of the week, sir.” I smile sweetly at him.
He laughs. “I highly doubt it.”
I’ll happily prove him wrong.
Tossing one last glance my way, he folds his hands behind his back and paces the ground by our small line.
The first group has already entered the assault course and begun their test.
“Your time will start in ten minutes, and every second counts. The course has several obstacles to test various skills. The average completion time is thirty minutes. Once you cross the finish line, there will be a short instructional before you enter the maze—our simulated war zone. We’ll be using paintball guns for that exercise.” He drills a look at me. “What a shame.”
Yeah, yeah. I get it. You hate women, and I’m already an annoying pain in your ass. I’ll enjoy ripping his sexist manifesto to pieces this week.
I glance up at the guys, scowling at them. “Must we have an audience?”
Instructor Corr steps up to me, sneering. “Shut your goddamned mouth, or I’ll shut it for you. You speak only when spoken to.”
“It’s a valid question,” Bry says, coming to my defense.
Instructor Corr snorts. “Butt out of shit that doesn’t concern you, and I suggest you quit trying to get in her panties because that one’s nothing but trouble.”
“That might be true,” I agree, smiling at Bry. “But I’m the right kind of trouble.”
“Don’t I know it.” Bry grins, and there’s another loud throat clearing from above. I ignore Saint this time, slapping an amicable smile on my face as I address the instructor. “Permission to warm up, sir.”
“Permission denied.” His smile is tight.
“I might get injured if I don’t warm up first.”
“What a shame it’d be if we had to send you home early.”
I take a step forward, eyeballing him. “I don’t think you quite understand the situation, sir. Neo Lennox is soon to be my stepfather, and he chose me to be the first female member for a reason. Those assholes up there”—I point at the guys—“are the junior chapter in Prestwick and Lowell, and they are very protective of me. Especially Saint Lennox. I really don’t think you want to cross them.”
Or me, but I keep that thought to myself because the jerk has already proven he has little regard for women and I’m as insignificant as the dirt under his boot.
“Unless you have a death wish.” I shrug. “And it’s not like I’m asking for much.”
He grabs me by the neck. “Listen here, you little cunt.” He squeezes my throat harder. I could extract myself, but I’d rather let Saint prove my point and reserve showing my hand.
In my peripheral, I watch Saint jump off the walkway without fear or any regard for his safety, and fuck, if that doesn’t seriously turn me on. He stalks toward us with his nostrils flaring and murder in his eyes. Instructor Corr’s eyes widen in alarm when he hears the approaching footfall, and he twists his head around in time for Saint’s punch to land on the side of his face.
His arms drop from my neck, and he staggers back as Saint hits him again, landing a powerful punch on his nose this time. Saint grabs him by the shirt, slamming him into the wooden post behind us. “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking bury you alive in a cesspit of poisonous snakes.” He slams him against the post once more. “Is that clear?”
Instructor Corr nods, and Saint lets him go. Corr swipes at the blood pumping from his nose, and naked anger oozes from every pore. I doubt he’ll heed Saint’s warning once the guys leave, but I’ll take whatever he throws at me and throw it back with added venom.
“You okay, princess?” Saint probes my neck with his fingers, inspecting my skin
for damage. It’s hysterical because we both know he’s not opposed to choking—if he’s the one with his hands around my throat.
“I’m good, baby,” I purr, snaking my arms around his neck and pressing my body into his. Figure I might as well play this up so the other assholes know I’m off limits. Especially Bryant, because he’s entertained notions of us in the past. I want zero distractions this week, and holing me up in the middle of the woods with a bunch of violent, horny wannabe gangsters means guaranteed grabby hands and sleazy proposals.
Saint reels me into his arms, slamming his lips on mine in a domineering kiss I feel all the way to the tips of my toes. “She’s ours,” he growls when our lips separate, slicing a look through Bryant.
He didn’t say mine. That’s progress.
Sliding his hand lower on my back, he palms my ass, and I roll my eyes. “Anyone lays a finger on Lo, we’ll put a bullet in your skull.” He glares over my shoulder in a pointed direction. “That especially applies to you.”
“You find this shit attractive?” Bryant asks, blatantly ignoring Saint.
I twist around in Saint’s arms, arching a brow. “What girl wouldn’t?”
“A sane one?” some stupid guy with messy strawberry-blond hair says. Saint takes a step toward him, and hostility rains down on him from above. I don’t need to look up to know the guys are shooting daggers at him. A burst of warmth spreads across my chest, and I can’t deny how good it feels to have backup after so long going it alone.
“It’s time to move,” Instructor Corr says, saving the initiate from a Saint-style throat punch.
“We need to talk,” Saint says, releasing me. “Don’t wander off after the maze.” He lifts his head up, piercing Bry with a look. “You too, asswipe.”
“Fuck off. I’m not answerable to you.”
“Like hell you’re not.” Saint takes a step toward him, but I push him back, cautioning him with my eyes. I’ll handle Bry, I silently convey. A muscle ticks in Saint’s jaw before he lowers his mouth to mine, pecking my lips as he eyeballs Bry with a dark glare.
“You’re interfering with our schedules,” Corr says to Saint. “I’ll mark that on my report.”
Saint scoffs. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”
“Go.” I nudge Saint back. “I’ll meet you afterward at the maze.”
I feel Saint’s eyes glued to my back as we follow Corr through the entrance and into the assault course.
My eyes scan the ground in front of me. There are a couple low walls at the start, then a rope wall, and a high wall beyond that, but that’s as far as I can see. I purposely don’t look up at the guys, even though I know they are there, because I can’t afford to lose focus.
I cast a sneaky glance at the competition. The four guys in my group are strong and tall, but my smaller weight and height should work to my advantage with some of the obstacles.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Instructor Corr whispering in one of the initiate’s ears—the same guy who mouthed off back there. As Corr’s mouth works overtime, he shoots daggers in my direction. I hadn’t intended to make enemies here, but it’s obvious I’m not wanted, and I doubt if I keep silent and act like a Goody Two-Shoes that the outcome will be any different.
Being female is the biggest obstacle I must overcome this week.
The instructor blows a whistle. “Line up. On my count.”
I block out everything around me, pressing one foot forward and stretching my other foot out behind me, poised and ready.
Corr counts, and when he gets to three, I bolt forward, jumping over the low walls with ease. Pounding feet keep pace with me, and while I need to keep aware of the other initiates, I won’t let myself get distracted by their progress because that dilutes my focus. So, I keep my eyes ahead and concentrate on the tasks as they arise.
I climb the rope wall with skill, but the high wall proves more challenging because I have to stretch to reach the markers. When I pull myself over, Bry and the guy with the strawberry-blond hair, the one Corr was whispering to, are already on the ground and moving toward the row of tunnels.
Taking a risk, I jump down the bottom half of the wall instead of climbing down it, grateful when I land firmly on the ground. I scramble to the tunnel, entering mine a few seconds after the guys have entered theirs, crawling through it, using my elbows and my knees to propel me forward. I emerge like a bullet from a gun, adrenaline charging through my veins as I plunge headfirst into cold, muddy, brown water.
My eyes sting, and I swallow a mouthful of yucky water. I thrust up to the surface, and the instant my head is above water, a hand pushes me back down. Fighting instinct, I let the asshole hold me under the water while my hands move sluggishly in front of me. Grabbing hold of his dick through his pants, I twist hard. The pressure releases from my head, and I resurface, spitting out water and gasping for air.
“You fucking bitch,” the guy with the reddish-blond hair says.
“Come at me again, and you’ll know all about it.”
Splashing sounds behind me alert me to the other two guys, and I forget the asshole cradling his sore dick and swim across the lake. Up ahead, Bry is hauling himself out of the water, heading for the balance beams and the hanging frame. I plow through the murky water, pushing my arms and kicking my legs as fast as I can.
Climbing up the muddy bank, I slip three times, shivering as my wet clothes plaster to my cold skin. Ignoring my discomfort, I race toward the balance beams, quickly traversing them, and then, I scale the side wall of the hanger using the rope, grabbing onto the bar and dropping down, using my arms to move along the frame, one bar at a time.
My arms throb, but I push on, completing that task and entering the wire crawl on my back. This was a tip Diesel gave me. It’s easier to avoid getting trapped if you shimmy under the wire on your back rather than on your belly. Bry isn’t in the know, because he’s stuck a few feet from the end, wires tangled in the back of his shirt.
“Good luck getting out of that,” I say, sliding out of the end on my back.
“I don’t need luck,” he says, gritting his teeth as he pushes forward, the wire ripping his shirt and scratching his skin.
I run toward the zip line, climbing the ladder with Bry hot on my heels. I clip myself onto the wire, grab hold of the handrails, and push off my feet, propelling my body forward as I glide over another lake. I glance to my left at the sound of pounding footsteps, grinning at Theo, Saint, and Caz as they race along the walkway, attempting to keep up with me. “You got this, princess,” Caz roars before blowing me a kiss.
I almost miss my footing at the end because I’m distracted, but I pull back before I face-plant into the wooden wall. I unclip myself and grab the rope swing just as Bry arrives. I swing forward, letting out a lusty animalistic cry as I let go of the rope, landing on the inflatable below. I crawl on all fours until I’m on solid ground, pushing damp tendrils of hair back off my face and sprinting toward the last section of the course.
It’s a combination of low and high walls with a few more tunnels and wire crawls. I make my way through them, straining my aching limbs, panting and mentally encouraging my body to keep pushing through. Bry has caught up with me, and we are neck and neck until the last two hundred meters when I trip over a hidden log underfoot, crashing to the ground face-first, eating a mouthful of dead leaves and damp debris.
Silently cursing, I scramble to my feet and forge on, coming in thirty seconds after Bry.
Bry is bent over, exhaling heavily and grinning in my direction as he accepts a bottle of water from Instructor Tanner. I’m guessing there’s another path on the other side of the course they used to get here before us.
Tanner hands me water without making eye contact, and I fight a grin. I uncap the bottle, sloshing water around my mouth and spitting it out on the ground.
“So ladylike,” Corr says, and I shrug. If he thinks that’ll offend me, he can think again.
“You did good out there,” Bry says betwee
n panting. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” I raise the bottle to my lips again, wondering what his gameplay is.
“Listen up,” Corr shouts as the other three initiates arrive. We all finished so close together. “You have five minutes to regroup before we move to the maze.” He gestures at the large military-type truck on the left. It has a cloth covering behind the cabin, and my lips curl into a smile of their own volition. I’ve always wanted to ride in one of those.
“You’re liking this,” Bry says, sidling right up next to me.
“I’ve always been a physical kind of girl.” I smirk.
He grins down at me, and a burst of sunlight through the trees highlights the deep scar running from his left eye across his temple and into his hairline. I’ve often wondered how he got it, but I’ve never asked because scars tell a personal story, and that story should only be revealed if the person wishes to share it.
“So I hear.”
I feel the daggers embedding in my back, but I don’t look up.
Bry leans in closer, pressing his mouth to my ear. “I know what Galen and Dar tried to do. I’m sorry.”
Panic swirls through my veins. “You tell Sinner?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not an idiot.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “He’s not to know.”
“You and I have a lot to discuss,” he whispers, as Tanner directs us toward the truck.
I peer into his hazel eyes, seeing the truth there. I’ve always liked Bryant. He was decent to me when I was with Dar, and he’s got smarts. I never understood how Dar ended up leader of the junior chapter of The Arrows, because Bry was way more intelligent, and he’s known for keeping a cool head under pressure, unlike hothead Darrow Knight.
Now, I’m wondering if Bry has been playing double agent all along, and if so, he could be a mine of useful information. Keeping him on my side seems like a smart plan, and I know he’s got a thing for me, so using that to my advantage is a no-brainer. Saint and the guys will just have to suck it up.
I place my hand on his arm, smiling up at him. “I think we do.”
The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series) Page 37
