Page 11 of Deadly Alliances

I pushed out of the stall and went to the sink, turning on the faucet and scooping water in my hands to splash onto my face in hopes of cooling my body heat.

I hated feeling so powerless. I felt like I was a kid again, stuck at home with a mom who didn’t care and no ability to advocate for myself. But this was worse. At least back then, I could escape for a few precious hours here and there and try to fend for myself. There was no escape from my current hell.

The thought made my fire flare within me, causing the water on my face and hands to steam and fogging up the mirror in front of me. I swiped the film enough to see my reflection, but the pathetic and angry face I found there made me look away.

There had to be something I could do. I wasn’t that helpless, neglected little girl anymore, and I refused to just take this shit lying down.

With determination sparking new embers inside me, I strode out of my hiding place and down the hall.

My hands squeezed into fists as I stared at the closed door of my dad’s office. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night he escorted Caesar and Kai out, and he hadn’t even tried to reach out to me. No more dinner invitations, no texts. But he held a position of power in the military. I was his daughter, and that had to count for something. Maybe I could make him listen to reason.

I took a deep breath and banged on the door twice.

Igneaus's deep voice mumbled, “Enter.”

I straightened my spine and pulled the letter out of my back pocket, then entered his office and beelined straight to his desk, where he sat with his head buried in a pile of papers. When he saw me, his head fell back, and he let out a sigh.

“Nice to see you too,Dad.” I slammed the letter down on top of his pile and paced the space in front of his desk.

He unfolded the crumbled paper, but I didn't give him a chance to get through it. There wasn’t anything there he hadn’t seen before.

“How could you be okay with all of this?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch. “How is cutting time for art and music okay? And now we have anoffensivetraining class?Seriously, that’s a disaster waiting to happen! We’re learning military strategies and the history of warfare! Howdo you expect meto be okay with the new expectations of your lame boss?”

“Ashlyn Summers, watch the way you speak about General Dracul. There are eyes and ears everywhere.” His voice was stern, but it was laced with concern.

“Oooh, I'm shaking in my boots.” I waved my hands for dramatic effect. “Why won’t you answer any of my questions? I just don't understand any of this. No one does. And you're mydad. Shouldn't you be giving me some words of encouragement or something? Instead of icing me out? I thought we were finally getting somewhere, then you go and side with Dragon Kaiser.”

Igneaus stood, towering over me as he peered at me with hard, stubborn eyes. “Watch your tone. What I do is none of your business, and I absolutely do not have to explain myself. What Iwilltell you is that I have obligations to the school and a contract that I can’t just walk away from. You will no longer burden mewith interrogations like this. Understood?”

“Loud and clear.” I grabbed the letter and spun around. I huffed the whole walk to the door, but stopped with my hand on the knob. “You’ve lost me once over a decision like this. It looks like you're on that same path. I hope your precious leader is worth pushing me away. Again.”

I refused to look back to see the look on his face—or to let him see the look of guilt on mine. The doorknob was heavy as I slammed the door closed, the cool metal the only thing keeping my hands from overheating. I had to get control of my emotions.

Just one more class.

The moment the bell rang signaling the end of Warfare History—seriously the most boring subject I’d ever had to trudge through—I raced to the Defense Room, eager to vent my rage on an unsuspecting punching bag.

Men wearing the same uniform that looked so handsome on Niko patrolled the defense room, scanning the faces of those inside as if sizing up who to recruit next. I scowled. If I was going to have soldiers breathing down my neck while I tried to ground myself, there was definitely going to be a fire accident.

Pulling my headphones securely over my ears, I roamed the room with eyes of steel, staring down every guard I passed until I reached the boxing corner. I needed to hit somethingbefore I hit someone. So punching bag it was. I hit play on my #GirlBoss playlist—not to spite the guys I’d dated, but to spite the man in charge and all the robots he brought with him. Excluding Niko, of course.

For the next half hour or more, I focused on the punching bag only. I got lost in the music and let my frustration out through my jabs and hooks. I worked up quite the sweat, but moved onto the treadmill for a two-mile run before heading back to the punching bag.

When exhaustion finally bled the anger—and heat—from my body, I turned off my playlist and headed toward the exit.

But a soldier blocked my path.

And just like that, my fury was back.

“What? Am I not allowed to shower?” I snarked.

He narrowed his eyes at my disrespectful tone. “Every student must do a minimum of one sim fight after training.”

“What? That wasextrapractice! I’ve already completed myvampire killquota for the day.” My heart rate picked back up, and this time it wasn't from the workout rush. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like a comedian?”

I cringed. My hands began to sizzle white hot, but a voice from behind the soldier spoke up.

---