Page 10 of Protect Thy Enemy

I’m officially convinced that bitch named Universe has it out for me.

As if I don't already have enough shit to deal with, my car refuses to start. I twist the key in the ignition one more time, just in case some miracle decides to arrive early. Nothing. Just the same stupid little clicking noise.

“Come on, Betsy, not today.” I lean my head against the steering wheel and let out a groan so loud it echoes in the silence.

I can’t afford to be late today or any day within my ninety-day probationary period.

I especially can’t afford for something to be wrong with my car.

If it isn’t already as painfully clear, I can’t afford a lot of shit right now.

I can just imagine Agent Grant standing at the entrance with a pleased look on his face as I rushed in.

I’d bet my lucky bra the man is convinced that I will fail and I think I’d actually roll over and die before proving him right.

Or swallow a handful of pushpins.

Or take my chances with He Who Shall Not Be Named.

Or help Helga clean her ancient revolver.

Anythingelse at this point is marginally better than proving Agent Grant right.

It’s been days, and I still can’t shake that … look in his eyes. I’ve tossed and turned more at night than I care to admit. I hate how he looked at me as if he knew me and had already decided I was a failure.

He doesn't know me.

He doesn’t know the nights I’ve spent memorizing every training exercise during FLETC, the hazing, or the bruises I carried from every failed attempt to get here.

He doesn’t know the hollow silence, the shadow of expectations I was trying to outrun. He doesn’t know about the assholes like Agent Corbin who fought tooth and nail to prove I wasn’t cut out for this line of work.

No, he doesn’t know me. But God, the look on his face? It was like he saw a ghost, and I wasn’t exactly sure I wasn’t looking right back at one.

Stupid, sadistic, devil of a man. He probably drinks little kids' tears for breakfast.

I shouldn’t care what he thinks.

“If you start, I swear I’ll get you an oil change.” I try to bribe Betsy, but turning the key in the ignition only produces the same clicking noise again.

With no other options, I call the one person I know will answer, though I’m pretty sure I might regret it later.

The phone rings four times before a groggy voice breaks through the line. “Arden? Didn’t I just hear you leave?”

I let out a sigh. “I was trying to, but my car won’t start.”

There’s a heavy pause, and I can practically feel her judgment through the phone.

“Arden,” Luna finally says, voice thick with a mix of sleep and frustration, “I told you to take Betsy to replace her battery weeks ago.”

I might recall having that conversation a few… dozen times. At least she’s not yelling.Yet. Though I can’t say that I don’t deserve it.

“I know, I know. I was planning to replace it after payday next Friday.”

A long sigh drifts over the line. “You do know I would’ve loaned you the money, right?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. As easy as it would’ve been to do that, my pride wouldn’t allow it. It’s not that I didn’t have it. I did, but I don’t anymore. Icould’vegotten a battery. However, Luna doesn’t know my money is tied up in other places I’d rather not discuss.

I know what she would say if she found out.

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