Page 7 of Lone Wolf

Barino gives me the kind of stupid grin I have come to associate with cocky men here in the Syndicate. There are a lot of them at recruit level. Far fewer in the senior levels, because by then, they know that everyone at their level is just as dangerous as they are. But these guys? They don’t know yet.

It’s time for Barino to learn.

Unfortunately for him, the lesson takes only a few seconds before I’ve kicked his feet out from under him and brought my foot down against his neck, stopping a fraction away from crushing his windpipe. His eyes go wide with the sudden knowledge of how close he’s just come to death.

I pull back as Lyssa calls out, “Next!”

I even reach out a hand to help pull Barino up, but he ignores it, scrambling away on his hands and knees until he gets to his feet and saunters off, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Next is a brunette—I think her name is Vanessa, but I don’t know her surname. I deal with her about as quickly as I did with the first recruit. She sprawls, blinking in shock at how quickly it ended.

I offer my hand.

She doesn’t take it.

“Next!”

I work through the crowd of them, taking each of them down in turn. One or two take a little longer than the others, and Isee Lyssa give an approving nod and murmur to Scarlett, who has joined the training session to watch. It’s then that I realize this isn’t just a normal training session: Lyssa and Scarlett are looking for people.Scouting.

They’re forming a team.

And I want in. So, to keep up the pretense that I have anything approaching respect for any of these people, I go on offering my hand to help up the vanquished. Some of them even take it. But as focused as I am on the impression I’m making on Lyssa and Scarlett, I can’t help getting distracted by someone else.

Sunny Santiago is leaning against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, that bright grin never leaving her face. Every time I take someone down, she chuckles or shakes her head in what looks like amusement. And as I circle my next opponent, I overhear a snatch of conversation.

“She’s so good.” The admiration in Sunny’s voice catches me off guard, but I’m still together enough to block the next blow when it comes, turn it against my opponent.

“She’s a machine,” the scoffed reply comes.

I’m actually pleased about it until I hear Sunny’s response. “Nah. Machines don’t get pissed off. She does.”

Right then, the next attempted blow from my current opponent nearly clips my side, and I whip around to smash a kick into their midsection. They land hard on their back with a pained gasp. I don’t bother offering a hand—I’m glaring across the mat at Sunny instead, something hot stirring under my ribs.

I point at her. “Next,” I snap, before Lyssa can call it out.

I half expect Lyssa to tell me off, but Sunny is already bouncing onto the mats, cracking her knuckles like some kind of prizefighter, making everyone laugh at her antics.

I’ve seen Sunny Santiago fight many times before. She’s lazy. Predictable.

This will be over fast.

“Guess it’s you and me, Frostbite,” Sunny laughs, as she begins to circle me, and a ripple of laughter runs through the onlookers. I narrow my eyes. The overhead lights glint off her hair, and she looks so…vibrant, while I feel stiff and coiled, even though I’m well warmed up.

She bounces on her toes, light and playful, and we circle a few times as I aim to confirm my opinions of her. Everyone else I’ve faced either froze up or rushed me. Not Sunny. She’s waiting, light on her feet, coaxing me with that maddening grin.

Fine. I make the first move. My strike is perfect—wrist firm, a textbook approach?—

She dodges.

And she doesn’t attempt to counter, just keeps moving, weaving, daring me with that wide grin.

I push forward again, dropping low for a foot sweep, and she literally hops over my leg, landing lightly and then darting to the left. For a second, her eyes flash with excitement.

I’ve never had to work this hard just to land a hit. And despite myself, I’m impressed.

Sunny Santiago is notjustsome bouncing golden retriever. If she took things a little more seriously, she could be a player.She’s not lazy or predictable—not with me. No. With me, she’s chaos, and it’s forcing me to adapt.

“You’re fast,” Sunny says to me. “But I’m fa—oof!”

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