Page 19 of Brutal Reign
This is their fault. Chandler’s been hanging all over Seb since we arrived; I wouldn’t even be on her radar if it wasn’t for him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to put her up to doing his dirty work, but if he thinks he can run me out of training camp with a stupid prank, he’s sorely mistaken.
He just fired the first shot. Now, this is war.
Wrapping the towel around my body, I move over to the cubby at the end of my bunk to get dressed, my motorcycle keys fucking taunting me from the shelf. I’d give anything to skip training, get on my bike, and drive up to Pine Mountain to clear my head. My cousins would probably excuse me from the morning session if I asked. Then again, if I skipped out, Chandler would win. Seb would win. And I refuse to let them see they’ve gotten under my skin.
“We’ll get them back for this,” Hayden hisses, leaning a hip against the side of our bunk as I pull on my clothes.
“I don’t even care,” I mutter, yanking my shorts up my hips. “I’m not gonna stoop to their level.”Not yet, anyway.Reaching into my cubby for my chapstick, I swipe some over my lips, re-capping it and combing my fingers through my damp tresses as I spin around to face my friend. “Let’s just go.”
The other recruits are already beginning to file out of the barracks, but Gus and Kendrick have hung back to wait for us. They join me and Hayden as we make our way to the door, and I hold my head high the whole way out to the practice field, acting completely unaffected while the beast inside me rages.
We make it there in the nick of time, and I strut right past Seb and Ace without sparing them a glance. It isn’t until my friends and I find a spot on the field and start stretching that I chance a look in their direction, finding that Ace at least has the decency to look sheepish. Seb’s just glaring at the other recruits on the field like he’s got a vendetta against the world.
Assholes, both of them.
After giving us a few minutes to warm up, Archer Raines cups his hands around his mouth, calling for us to pair up. He and his brother Ares are leading training today, and after giving us the rundown on what we’ll be doing– team combat exercises– he tells us to find a spot on the field and begin sparring two-on-two.
At least focusing on training gives me a mental escape. I concentrate on the fluidity of my movements; on anticipating my opponents’ moves. Hayden and I work seamlessly together against Bailey and Ember, quickly gaining the upper hand in our matchup. I’m so in the zone that the sound of someone screaming in pain across the field doesn’t even register at first- not until the other three girls in our sparring group stop to peer over at what’s going on.
There’s a guy on the ground clutching his hands to his chest and wailing in agony while the squad leaders rush over to assist. Seb and Ace are standing over the injured recruit like twin grim reapers, and as Hayden and I wander closer, I see what has the guy screaming his head off. His wrists are limp, his fingers bent at awkward angles. I can’t help but cringe at the sight of his grisly injuries.
“They broke my fucking hands!” the guy whimpers, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“What happened?” Archer demands, turning his furious glare on Seb.
He shrugs a shoulder in response, the picture of nonchalance. “Not our fault he didn’t block,” Seb scoffs.
Archer swings his gaze on Ace, then Beau, who was evidently partnered up with the poor dude on the ground currently bawling his eyes out. “Is that what happened?” he asks calmly.
They both nod, their expressions not betraying a thing.
Hayden elbows me in the ribs, leaning in and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Hey, wasn’t that the guy who was giving you a hard time?”
“Don’t know,” I grumble, even though I do. Mister broken hands is the same asshole who was heckling me in the barracks, and I don’t have the emotional bandwith right now to consider the implications of what this could mean. Seb and Ace were theones who put me in that situation in the first place by siccing their plaything on me. They’re villains, not heroes.
“Pretty sure that’s him,” Hayden muses, still eyeing the guy on the ground and wincing as Ares tries to help him to his feet.
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, playing it off as I spin around and push every intrusive thought to the back of my mind. I need to focus on training, not whatever the hell is going on with my former best friends. I’m sure this was just a display of toxic masculinity, and I’m not about to waste my energy on reading into something that isn’t there.
If they cared, they wouldn’t have abandoned me years ago.
I start back across the field, waving for Hayden to follow me. “C’mon, let’s reset.”
7
The bass pulses through me like a heartbeat as Ace slides the crossfader into the next song, completely in his element up here in the DJ booth. The dance floor below us crackles with energy, the air supercharged as sweaty bodies bump and grind to the music, drinks spilling out of glasses and splashing onto the arms of those clutching them. Eli and Beau are out there, each having set their sights on prey for the night, while right now, I don’t mind being up here away from it all. Given my current mood, I prefer it.
Of course, I’ll have to wander down there at some point to keep up appearances. It’s the end of our first week of training camp, and since we’ve got the day off tomorrow, our whole recruit class flocked to the only bar within walking distance of the squad complex. A lot of the regular squad fighters are here, too, as well as a handful of locals who don’t seem to mind that we’ve overrun the place. I suppose they’re used to it by now since Saturday nights at the Goldenleaf bar are a staple of squad life.
This isn’t Ace’s first time on the turntables here, nor is it my first time up in the booth at his side. He’s been DJ’ing for about a year and a half now, and it’s easy for him to get gigs since there’sonly one other decent DJ in the six-pack territory. He’s not as good as Ace, though; my boy’s got a gift. His hands move over the equipment with ease, and while I have no fucking clue about how to work any of it, I’m perfectly content just to chill at his side in the booth, reaping the benefits of being DJ-adjacent.
Turns out, girls love DJ’s. When they’re out on the floor dancing, they stare up at the man in the booth like he’s some kind of god, every flick of his wrist determining their fate. I guess it does, in some ways. In an environment like this, controlling the music controls the mood. There’s power in that, and Ace wields it like a weapon.
It’s the reason he’s queued up a song next that’s sure to clear out the dance floor. He must be ready for a break, and fighting the crowd to get out of the booth is a pain in the ass. I’m gonna go ahead and pretend that’s the only reason, and it has nothing to do with the dude that’s been hovering around River Jacobsen all night finally getting her to agree to dance with him. That’d mean Ace is actually reacting to her, and he’s a master at keeping his cool when it comes to that girl.
Well, except for the other day on the practice field. I don’t even know the name of the idiot who was catcalling River in the barracks, but he wasn’t so brave when Ace and I were crushing every bone in his hands to get our point across.We’d already warned him once.If River’s off-limits to us, she’s off-limits to everybody. The whiny little prick quit training camp and went running home to his mama, so at least none of us will have to deal with him anymore.
I’m not even surprised that River has given us the cold shoulder since that morning. I saw the way she looked at me and Ace when Chandler played her childish prank. River didn’t blame the girl who did it, she blamedus. And sure, she might’ve tried to act unbothered by the whole thing, but she forgets that we knew her once. Chandler’s mean-girl shit got to her, so we’vebeen keeping our distance to let her lick her wounds. It’s no fun toying with injured prey.