8
OUR TRAINING SESSION WAS OVER, but something restless in me still stirred. There were a couple of hours left in the morning, so Belle went for a run. The other two returned to the dorm to wash up. But I stayed behind in the gym staring down the black punching bag mounted to the wall in the corner. With my unruly hair tied at the base of my neck, I raised my arms, my hands nestled carefully inside a pair of boxing gloves, wrapped up with bandages in the way Chae Rin had shown me. And while I was not the pro she was, I’d taken to this particular method of training over the weeks; the sound of my glove-cushioned punches battering the leather-bound sand was steady in its rhythm, the powerful impact offering me the kind of release I craved as it shuttered up my bones. Saul on the loose. Natalya plotting inside me. Secrets, lies, deception.
Yeah, the stress was there.
The creaking from the double-door entrance to the gym ricocheted off the high, arched ceiling as someone slowly pushed the doors open. I figured it was one of the girls come back for something. Maybe Chae Rin—she’d forgotten her water bottle by the bench and it’d only cause another blowup if she used Lake’s without permission again. It was almost funny how comfortable we’d gotten around each other while still being so painfully dysfunctional in other ways.
My fists flew. I heard the footsteps behind me but didn’t think to look back, not until I heard his voice.
“You’ve gotten better.”
A sudden jolt in my chest made me miss the timing. The punching bag swung fast and hit me in the head just as I’d turned it. Stumbling, I fell back onto the floor at Rhys’s feet.
“Or not.”
Rhys knelt and gripped my arm softly, just above the elbow, while his other arm found my waist. I twitched at his touch but didn’t pull back. His dark eyes caught the light that slipped in through the high windows.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s just me.”
Just me. The gentleness in his voice had returned, breaking down my defenses like it always did. Making me want to trust him.
“Sorry I startled you,” he added as he helped me to my feet.
“No. It’s okay.”
He must have realized then that he was still holding on to me. Quickly, he withdrew his hands. I shifted awkwardly, looking down at my sneakers, my bare legs, before steadying my chest enough to look up at his sculpted face.
“Um, it’s been a while,” I said.
“Yeah.” It was times like this I remembered that before he was a trained soldier of the Sect, he was also just a kid like me, a boy of eighteen. He looked as nervous as I did, his eyes focused on the punching bag instead of on me. “I hope you didn’t think I was too short with you back there in the briefing room,” he said. “It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while.”
The side effect of dodging his calls for weeks. That was how I’d treated him. Even after he’d nearly died protecting me. Even when I wanted to know why he ever would.
“You didn’t visit, either. At the hospital, I mean,” he said, giving me a wry smile as he tilted his head sideways. I turned the moment I noticed my throat begin to tighten. “I thought maybe you forgot I existed. It’s all right, I forgive you,” he added jokingly.
I didn’t tell him that I had visited him three times, but each time he was sleeping, and I begged the nurses not to let him know I’d been there. During every visit, I studied his face and watched the rise and fall of his chest, wondering to myself whether he was really a killer—and whether I’d really be able to turn him in if it was true. And to whom? The Sect? Or Belle.
Belle. My body froze up from the very thought of her murderous anger. If he had killed Natalya, and if she found out . . . if I said a word about it . . . Belle would kill him. There was no doubt about it. She would murder him in front of me.
Maybe it was better if I never knew.
I walked away from him back to the swinging punching bag. “Why are you here?” I steadied it with my gloved hands. “I thought you, Sibyl, and your dad were planning the next mission.”
He paused. Maybe he wasn’t used to me referring to his father. Well, he’d never even mentioned him in first place.
“I came to find Belle,” he answered simply, and my hands froze before I could even ready my strike. “There are some things about her report on your last mission I wanted to clear up. You’re boxing now?”
The thought of him and Belle interacting sent my blood pressure up. Sucking in and out a deep breath only marginally helped release the anxiety.
“Yeah, it’s good stress relief.” Which is what I needed right about now.
Rhys was much taller than me. When he stood next to me and rested his hand on the punching bag, he showed every bit of his six feet. “You’ve been working hard, huh?”
“That I have.” Pride slipped into my voice as I said it, and I didn’t know why, but the little boyish grin that followed made me glad I’d told him. “You should have seen me out there, Aidan. I’m a veritable badass these days.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
But Rhys was already taking off his jean jacket, showing the white short-sleeved undershirt he’d been wearing beneath it. His broad frame filled out the fabric almost deliciously.
“What are you doing?” I asked again, blushing as I kept my eyes on his toned arms.
Rhys scratched his eyebrows. “Take off your gloves. Let me see what you’ve got.”
There was something still so unassuming about him even though I knew how long he’d trained for, how strong he was. How dangerous. And not just to phantoms.
I stepped back, unsure of whether to stay or go, or whether I could, even if I wanted to. My hairs were standing on end, my face continued to flush with heat, and while it didn’t feel all that good, it didn’t feel all that bad, either. This was crazy. This was why I’d gone through such great lengths to avoid him. Because being in his presence meant facing this dizzying, entangled mess of contradictory emotions. Stay or don’t. Believe Natalya or don’t. My hands were twitching.
I needed to punch something.
I threw off my gloves and lifted my arms in a ready stance. Rhys raised his eyebrows, but soon his surprise turned to excitement. He waved me over. I tried one strike, hard and fast. He dodged it easily, stepping to the side, but I went after him anyway. It’s not like I wanted to hurt him. But somehow the drive of a good fight cut through the thick of emotions and, for that one moment, gave me the kind of peace I so sorely needed. I had just one thing to focus on. One goal: land a punch. Simple. Unlike my life.
But Rhys was too good. He never struck back at me, only dodged, ducking and weaving, tilting his head, tapping my arm away to tip me off balance. Fast. Precise.
Then he swiveled around me and tugged the back of my shirt almost playfully. I paused and stared at his grinning face in surprise, and before I knew it, my lips were spreading too. His smile was infectious. I launched at him again, my heart pounding, and not just from physical exertion. Despite his speed, I still noticed the way his forearm stretched and flexed as he moved, the slight strain in his long neck as he lifted his chin to avoid my strike. His body maneuvered fluidly, carefully. Gentle but powerful. It suited him.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said when he let out an adorable little laugh.
“I mean, you’ve gotten better, but you’re not exactly in the badass category yet.” He caught my wrist and pulled me in to him. My breath hitched as he leaned over too close. “Unless you’re going easy on me?”
I craned my neck up to meet his gaze. A catlike gleam turned his narrowed eyes wicked as he stared down at me. I could feel his breath against my face. We were both breathing heavily, our chests rising and falling in different rhythms. It almost made me forget.
Almost.
“Well, unlike you, I haven’t trained all my life,” I said, keenly aware of how close our bodies were now.
“The key is keeping up with your training.” His hand was still on my wrist, my arm resting against his hip as he held it in place.
“Don’t know how you managed over the years.”
Rhys shrugged. “Well, I don’t have many friends I hang out with.”
“Friends . . .”
Friends.
By the way, are you interested in coming to see the dinosaur exhibit, by any chance? It’s why I’m here. I even dragged a few of my friends along.
I straightened up. The question had already formed before I could stop it, but it wasn’t until I peered up again into his quizzical face that I gave it words. “Have you . . . been to Prague?”
Rhys let go of my hand. “Prague?” He paused. “Maybe on a mission? I can’t remember.”
My arms felt heavy. “The museum,” I said carefully. “Have you been to the museum?”
What little was left of Rhys’s smile had disappeared. “Why would you ask something like that?”
“Why would you avoid a simple question?”
His unreadable expression was so fleeting, I couldn’t be sure I’d seen it at all because in the next second he gave me a half-amused, half-incredulous look. “I’m not avoiding it, Maia. It’s just a bit random is all. But if you’re that curious . . .” He furrowed his brows and thought. “Prague . . . wait . . . actually, yeah. Yeah, I did once. I saw a dinosaur exhibit or something like that. Maybe earlier this year—I can’t remember exactly when. Why?” With a teasing grin, he added, “You interested in going with me sometime?”
He’d admitted it. He’d gone to the museum. But . . . if he was trying to conceal what he’d done to Natalya, would he have admitted it so casually? Or maybe he was so casual exactly because he wanted to throw me off? I stepped back. What was I supposed to believe?
“You okay? Are you tired?” he asked, but the moment I saw his hand reach out for me, my body jerked away so violently that he withdrew it immediately, shocked. “Maia . . .”
“Sorry, I’m okay,” I lied. And we stood there staring at each other.
Did he or didn’t he kill Natalya? The truth was, I wasn’t prepared for the consequences of knowing.