Page 6 of Lone Wolf

“I knew it. Too scared, just like the rest of us.” He smirks as though he thinks he’s won something.

I raise my eyebrows, staring him down. “Talk is cheap. I’m going to get her tonoticeme.”

“That’s…basically the same thing.”

“Watch and learn, Rittoli. Watch and learn.”

The others laugh, roll their eyes, dismiss my comments as Sunny being Sunny.

But as I watch Ariadne clear her table and walk away, I’m already thinking of all the ways I could try to get under her skin. It’s the easiest and most direct way to get a reaction, after all.

Friendship? That can come later.

Later that night, after swapping out my training clothes for loose pajama pants in bright turquoise, and a worn tank top, I head out to my balcony again to sneak a forbidden cigarette. I don’t even like smoking, but there’s something about the banning of it in Elysium that makes mewantto do it, just to breakthe rules. Plus I like my balcony. I have a collection of small potted succulents nestled against the railing—survivors, just like me. They thrive on minimal care, soaking up sunlight, turning harshness into beauty.

The other benefit? Being out here gives me a front-row seat to watch out for Ariadne when she heads back from her late night run. She saw me last night, and I wondered if she’d turned me in for the smoking. I waved at her, but she didn’t wave back. Tonight, I see her coming around the corner from her nine-minute mile, like usual. She’s precisely on time, of course, and I’ve timed her before, just to check—she’s like clockwork. She can run alotfaster when she wants to, so I think this is her idea of a leisurely stroll before bed.

And just like last night, she glances up toward the balcony.

Her stride doesn’t break, but even in the darkness, I know she’s looking straight at me.

“Hey!” I call down, raising a hand. “Hey, Sarah!”

She quickly looks away, and that’s how I know she’s not really that robot she likes to pretend to be. A real robot wouldn’t need to avoid eye contact. She doesn’t reply, just slows her jog to a walk as she reaches the doors and then glares back up at me. “It’s Ariadne,” she snaps.

And then she disappears inside.

Technically, she noticed me. But that’s not enough for me.

And now I have a plan.

CHAPTER 3

Ariadne

I preferthe training room when it’s quiet, empty, just me. But I’m focused enough to block out the noise of the other recruits as we gather for our next training exercise, though the clamor makes the huge space feel smaller.

I hover around near Zach and Elijah, but I can’t help watching Sunny Santiago as she jokes and laughs with the other recruits across the room. She’s easy to spot—bright grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet like she can’t keep still, and that mass of multi-colored hair. She’s holding the pads for Enzo Rittoli, who’s half-jokingly punching at them, guard way lower than it should be. Their laughter grates on me. Training is not a joke, and yet they look like they’re on a playground.

I pull my focus back to my own routine. I’ve already warmed up, and now I’m strapping my wrists. It’s something that Lyssa insists on for training, even though knows as well as I do that there’s no time to strap wrists in the field. But I follow orders.

Even though I don’t enjoy these sessions.

Fighting for one’s life is not a game. Not a sport. Certainly not a bonding exercise.

It’s aboutsurvival, which is why I always win. Today will be another sparring session, and I assume that, as usual, no one will want to pair up with me. I always end up with Scarlett. And I don’t mind that—at least she gives me a run for my money.

Lyssa never offers to fight me. At first I was surprised, then confused, then annoyed—and then I realized it for what it was. She doesn’t want me to have any extended practice with her in case she needs to take me down one day.

I can respect that.

When Lyssa comes into the room, Scarlett behind her, we line up in front of her in a square formation. The room goes from raucous to tense in the span of seconds, and even the squeaking of shifting sneakers stops as we wait for orders.

“Sparring today,” Lyssa tells us, as expected. As the recruits begin to pair up, murmuring, she says more loudly, “Shut up and listen to me. You’re not staying in pairs today. You don’t get to pick your fights in the field. So today we’re doing a round robin—winner stays in until he or she loses, and we’ll go as many rounds as needed to toughen you soft little fucks up.”

An uneasy laugh follows her words. Frankly, I think it’s about time. I catch Elijah watching me, but his gaze slides away to Zach. Even those two, who will put up with me at meal times, don’t like to train near me. I guess I can’t blame them. They tried sparring with me once; I put them both on their backs in tandem. People don’t tend to come back for seconds with me.

But this time, no one is going to escape me, and for the first time I feel a prickle of anticipation. Lyssa steers Matty Barino towardme in the middle of the mats and points at me, crooking a finger to bring me forward. “The rest of you better take notes,” Lyssa calls. “Let’s see how we go. Barino. Graves. Let’s go.”

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