“I don’t need details. Just tell me if the hit came from the Order.”
“Fuck off.”
I tilt my head, struggling to keep a rein on my building temper. “You don’t want to do this with me, Gage. Especially not when you’re fucking high.”
Eric, undeterred, amped by the drugs, studies me with a defiant expression. “Yeah, and why’s that?”
The hard resolve in my voice doesn’t lessen. “Because I’ll torture the information out of you if I have to.”
It’s not a threat; it’s fucking statement of fact.
He scoffs, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’d like to see you fucking try.”
Acknowledging his challenge with a slow, deliberate nod, I let the silence hang heavy between us for a moment. “I can make that happen.”
Without another word, I close the distance between us. My fist connects with his diaphragm in a sudden, forceful impact, designed to incapacitate.
Eric’s eyes widen in shock, the air whooshing out of his lungs in an involuntary gasp. He staggers back and clutches at his abdomen as he struggles to draw breath. The surprise in his eyes is quickly replaced with rage.
With a sudden burst of energy, he lunges towards me. His shoulder slams into my chest, a clear attempt to catch me off guard and push me back. I counter his advance, grabbing his shoulders and using his momentum to spin him away from me. Eric whirls around, fists clenched, ready to draw blood.
“If you keep this up, I’m going to kick your ass,” I say. “We both know it. Your coordination is fucked by the drugs.”
Eric throws a punch, a clumsy swing that’s easily dodged. He’s one of the best fighters out of all the recruits, but the drugs have slowed his reflexes, and his movements lack coordination. The only thing he has going for him is the stimulant to his central nervous system decreasing his perception of pain.
I deliver a solid kick to his midsection, sending him reeling backwards. Eric recovers his balance and lunges at me again, his eyes wild with fury.
We dance like this for several minutes, trading blows. The sounds of our struggle echo in the room, the rhythmic thuds of flesh against flesh punctuated by the occasional grunt.
Finally, I land a solid blow to the side of Eric’s head, dazing him. I seize the opportunity and throw him against the wall, pinning him in place with my forearm against his throat.
“Now, for the last fucking time, I’m going to ask: was the girl a part of a summons?”
Eric’s eyes are glazed, the effects of the drug-induced rage slowly fading. “No,” he croaks.
“Then why did you try to kill her?”
“I—”
Before he can finish the sentence, I slam him against the wall, my patience waning. “Listen, motherfucker, you’re going to tell me the truth, or I’ll kill you. Right here, right now. Fuck the Order.”
His eyes widen in alarm, his gaze clearing for the first time since the altercation started. “Okay, okay. Just calm the fuck down. I did it to see what you would do.”
I frown. “You were going to kill her to see how I’d react?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Eric stares at me, the confusion on his face matching my own. “To see if she’s important to you.”
“She’s not,” I lie. “No one is.”
He laughs. It’s unhinged, and not all of it can be blamed on the narcotic in his system. “Then why the fuck did you come here tonight, threatening to torture me for information? Why are you willing to risk the wrath of the Order, the same organization you’re pledged to serve, if the girl means nothing to you?”
My jaw tightens. “Because we don’t shit where we eat. That girl is a student here, so if she’s a threat to the Order, I want to know.”
“Bullshit. There’s something else. You want her.”
“I’m not breaking my vow to the Order for a fucking piece of ass.”
I shove off of him. He loses his footing and laughs again, the sound mocking. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Donovan.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
“No, but you do care what the council has to say.”
I pause at the threshold. “Watch your back, Gage. What happens during the Trials can be... accidental.”
Chapter 21DELILAH
Ibite my bottom lip, focused intently on the chemistry exam in front of me. I don’t allow myself to think of Ben, or the fact that I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. And I refuse to let my thoughts wander to a silver-eyed and silver-tongued devil.
In my peripheral vision, I catch the student next to me angling his body toward me. More specifically, my paper. He glances repeatedly between his exam and mine, his pencil scratching away furiously.
Frustration has me gritting my teeth at his obvious cheating. I shift in my seat to conceal my paper, but that doesn’t work. If it did, this wouldn’t be the second time this guy has copied me.
I clear my throat loudly and cover my answers with my arm. The student pauses, his brow furrowing, before he leans forward even further than before. I shoot him a pointed glare, which he promptly ignores.
With a sigh, I do my best to rush through the test, hoping he’ll be too slow and get the last section wrong. I worked hard last night studying the binary ionic compounds instead of joining Raven and June at a club. Not that it’s my scene, but anything is better than chemistry.
I make a mental note to speak to Professor Ames about this during his office hours. Integrity matters to me. Also, I can’t afford to lose my scholarship because of some random twat waffle cheating off of me.
As soon as I finish the test, I gather my things and give the student one final dirty look. He has the grace to look sheepish, but I don’t care. He’s still a liability.
I place my test on Professor Ames’s desk, avoiding his gaze. Ever since day one, I haven’t been able to look this man in the face. There’s a coldness in his eyes that chills me to the bone, like he’s one manic episode away from becoming a psychopath.
“Wait a moment, Miss Scott.”
His voice stops me cold. I turn back to meet his gaze and immediately regret it. His eyes are bright with anticipation, similar to the way I look at a spider before smashing it. Repeatedly.
He leans forward and lowers his voice. It takes everything inside me to hold my ground and not take a step back.
“I couldn’t help but notice some concerning behavior this morning,” he says. “I’ll be reporting your academic dishonesty to the Integrity Board. Today.”
“What?” I cringe at the volume of my voice. It wasn’t a screech per se, but it wasn’t far off. “I didn’t do anything wrong. He cheated off of me. Today isn’t the first time either.”
Professor Ames tilts his head. “And yet you haven’t mentioned it. This means you were assisting him.” He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “I understand this is upsetting, but we take integrity very seriously here. I suggest you speak with your student advisor as quickly as possible.”
With my mind spinning, I leave the room and head straight to the administration building. My panic over this unjust situation has my stomach tying in knots, and by the time I’m sitting in Mrs. Shipley’s office chair, I’m close to fainting.
“Delilah,” she says, her forehead wrinkling with concern, “what’s wrong?”
It takes me several deep breaths to clear the spots from my vision and to steady my racing pulse. I grip the armrests to ground myself and to keep from falling on the floor.