Page 66 of Precious Legacy

Savannah flicks her ponytail girlishly. “Jersey girl, through and through.”

Thankfully, we’re near the back of the room, so it’s easy to exchange a few words without being spotted. I find out that she’s the same age as me and joined the academy because her father was a police officer for years before taking early retirement due to an incident that left him too injured to work. She doesn’t divulge much more than that, but I get the distinct impression that alone is her motivation.

We talk a little more between the brief interludes as the staff plays musical chairs on the stage. By the time the morning is over, I’ve made a new friend, and I'm certain, a worthy colleague. It’s easy to fall into conversation with Savannah as we take a seat for lunch. The cafeteria we’ve been guided to boasts a selection of meals that we get to choose from; all healthy and packed full of the nutrients our bodies should be getting. I remind myself that I should really get a handle on my eating habits and somehow, Savannah comes in with the exact same thought.

“Ugh, this food makes me feel guilty,” she groans as she digs into her chicken caesar salad.

I laugh and dig my fork into my own salad, agreeing around a mouthful of lettuce. “No more pizza,” I chuckle.

“Oh my god,” she moans, dropping her head. “Pizza!”

It’s not like we’ve been told to change our diet or anything, but the impact that certain foods might have on us and our training is obvious. Especially when it comes to the afternoon orientation, where we get our training kits and head to the gym.

We’re only supposed to be running light drills to get used to the instructors, butfuck, I’m out of breath by the twelfth lap of the gym. Savannah isn’t that far behind me, either. Her cheeks are rosy from the exertion, stray hairs clinging to her sweaty forehead.

I’m suddenly regretting eating so much at lunchtime, because I’m about ten seconds away from hurling.

I fold at the waist, grabbing onto my knees and trying to catch my breath while the instructor barks out orders for us to grab a partner to do warm-ups.

“You mean that wasn’t the warm up?” Savannah pants beside me.

I let out a breathless laugh as I head towards the gym mats, taking a seat on one of them. Savannah plops down opposite me, throwing her head back as the instructor walks by us.

“Label yourselves!” he bellows. “A and B. You each have a minute to do as many sit-ups as you can. Take turns counting. Ready…”

We all shuffle into position, quickly labeling ourselves as instructed.

“Go!”

“Such a ballbuster,” Savannah remarks as she crunches her body towards me. I count every sit-up she completes, calling out when she makes it to twenty. There’s still thirty seconds left, but she’s doing well despite our grumbles over feeling nauseous a second ago.

When time is called, we switch over and it’s my turn to wreak more havoc on my body. I make it to fifty-one sit-ups before time is called again, and the urge to throw up has neverbeen more overwhelming. I’d consider my fitness to be a high standard. I passed the physical tests with flying colors, but nobody warned me this is what we would be doing, otherwise I wouldn’t have filled myself up on lunch.

Things don’t take a turn until our first combat training, when a new instructor comes out to take over. As soon as he steps into the room, my breathing stalls, fear freezing me in place and the familiar urge to vomit returns.

I know that face.

I’ve had to see Ashton Greedy’s face splashed all over billboards for the past five years, but I haven’t seen this one since that night. He was there. I’d recognize it anywhere because you don’t forget trauma like that, let alone the ones who inflicted it.

He surveys the crowd of recruits, but he doesn’t give me more than a passing glance, which tells me he doesn’t recognize me. I don’t know if I should be relieved and I can’t find it in me to care because all I’m focused on is trying to keep my nerves at bay so Savannah doesn’t notice.

“I’m Officer Prescott, and I’ll be leading your self-defense and tactical training,” he announces.

Shit.

I try to ignore the blood-curdling fear and worry that pins me in place as Officer Prescott runs through the legalities of when to use combat in self-defense, when to use force and when not to. All the while, I’m internally criticizing the irony of his words and wondering if it’s possible to change instructors. I don’t even know if that’s an option, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious about spending the next six months under his tutelage. I’ve spent five years trying to forget about what happened. Seeing Ashton Greedy’s face plastered all over the city hasn’t helped, but now I’ve got to spend every day with another one of my attackers.

As if my life isn’t already traumatic and complicated.

A shudder racks through me as I stare mindlessly into the distance. I remind myself that I’m doing this for a reason. As much as I’d like to right now, I can’t quit. I need to stick to the plan because I can’t take down an officer without first becoming one. I just need to keep my head down, excel in all my classes and just hope Roman never asks me about this again.Easier said than done.

Once the introductions and boring regulation speeches are out of the way, Savannah and I pair up, practicing the basic techniques we’ve been shown. I lose myself in the simplicity of it all because this is baby stuff in comparison to what I already know. After all, I had the best teacher. It isn’t until I feel the presence ofhimthat I get distracted, losing my footing as I prepare to sidestep Savannah’s advance. My ankle rolls over and I stagger sideways.

But a pair of hands block me from making a complete fool of myself. I kinda wish I had because it would be far less terrifying than locking eyes with Officer Prescott.

My mouth goes dry and my heart feels like it’s about explode. The closeness of his body makes me nauseous, but much worse than that is the flicker of recognition in his gaze.He remembers me.

Pushing off him; I clear my throat and turn away from him. I can’t risk him knowing that I, too, remember every single thing he did to me that night. I can’t riskanyoneknowing that our training officer assaults women.Not yet, anyway.

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