Page 15 of Lone Wolf

I’m pretty sure it was Ariadne. Even though she’s staring in the opposite direction when I find her at the edge of the crowd, her posture is too rigid, too deliberate. She’s positioned herself away from the other recruits, maintaining that careful distance she always keeps, but I catch the slight turn of her head, the way her eyes flick away too quickly.

I smirk and bend low again, offering her the best view of my ass, if she’s so inclined. I arch my back a little more than necessary, making the movement deliberate, inviting.

It’s a pretty decent ass, I have to admit.

But I need to focus. I’m not the only one who knows something’s up. The other recruits are muttering with excitement, too; this isn’t a regularly scheduled training session—we’ve been gathered here for some special reason.

And then the main door opens once more and I stand up straight at once, come to attention like every other recruit.

Hadria Imperioli has entered the room.

She crosses to the far end, her boots practically silent on the polished floor, and she’s wearing her usual black from head to toe. She takes a seat near the back of the room and watches us all with a calm, unreadable expression.

“Eyes here,” Lyssa says sharply, as everyone turns to look at Hadria. “You’re sparring again today.”

My head turns inevitably to Ariadne. I can see by the way her fingers flicker that she’s looking forward to taking out all of us again. She wants to prove herself to Hadria.

Just as much as I do.

“Pairs today,” Lyssa adds, and I think Ariadne looks disappointed. Yet when Lyssa calls out the pairings, I’m unsurprised to hear our names connected. It seems that Ariadne feels the same way, based on the slight roll of her eyes. I bounce over to her, determined not to be ignored.

“This is going to be fun,” I tell her. “Right?”

She rolls her head on her shoulders. “Just make sure you don’t go down in the first five seconds. I’d like a chance to show Hadria what I can really do.”

“Right back atcha,” I snort, hiding the sting of her dismissal with a bright smile.

Unlike last time, she won’t be taking us all on like some undefeated champion; we’re all sparring at the same time. Ariadne’s scowl suggests she’s not happy about it—she doesn’t have the chance to show off—but I’m just frustrated that Hadria doesn’t even seem to be looking our way.

As we begin, I can tell by Ariadne’s too-casual attacks that she doesn’t really see me as a threat, her movements holdingback, barely engaging. Her strikes come at half-speed, her kicks pulling short of their full power. It’s insulting, like being patted on the head. So I spend most of my time ducking and weaving, refusing to engage, my footwork quick and unpredictable. If she won’t take this seriously, why should I?

It’s not long before Lyssa calls a halt and tells us, “We’re done with the warm up. Next: two-on-two. You and your partner will spar with another couple.”

Ariadne puts her hands on her hips and takes a step away from me.

“Problem?” Lyssa asks coolly. I didn’t even think she was looking our way. Which gives me hope that maybe Hadria is actually watching us, too…

But I’m also pretty mad at Ariadne right now, because I know exactly what she’s thinking. Her words confirm it.

“I don’t want my partner to get hurt if she gets in my way,” she says, in—for her—a sweet and considerate tone, aka just this side of glacial.

“You control your strikes, we won’t have a problem,” I tell her.

For a second, she looks taken aback. So does everyone else, for that matter. Usually I’d crack a joke about a comment like the one Ariadne just made, get everyone laughing, but right now I only have one goal.

Getting on this team.

“I simply prefer fighting alone,” Ariadne says, staring me down.

“What’s the name of our organization?” Scarlett’s voice rings out from the side of the room.

With a slightly puzzled wrinkling of her brow, Ariadne replies, “The Styx Syndicate.”

“Syndicate,” Scarlett repeats. “By definition, a group of individuals combining to work for a common goal. Ateam.”

“That’s right,” I say, my usual grin coming more easily now. I rock forward on the balls of my feet. “We’re ateam, Frostbite. I’m your backup.”

This is how I know I’m getting under Ariadne’s skin: normally, she would fall in line as soon as one of her superiors smacked her wrist. But she just glowers at me. “I don’t need backup.”

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