Page 99 of The Devil's Trials

I offer a mockingly sweet smile. “Touché.”

His fist comes flying toward my face, and I duck just in time to avoid it connecting with my jaw. I drop low and kick out, knocking his legs out from under him. When he hits the mats with a loudthud, I resist the urge to make a comment about him skipping leg day at the gym.

Cody scrambles upright before I can attack him on the ground, growling obscenities at me as he charges forward. I shift backward, but not fast enough to avoid a hit to my shoulder. Pain flares all the way to my fingertips, and I suck in a breath at the sharpness. I block his next attempt, twisting away before doubling back and driving my knee into his ribs then my elbow into his throat. He coughs violently, his eyes popping wide, but I don’t back down. I jump onto his back as sweat rolls down my temple, throwing my weight into knocking him back to the ground, the impact reverberating through the mats.

This time, I don’t give him a moment to get up. I grab his dominant arm and pin it above his head at an angle that threatens dislocation should he move. Still he struggles, but I have the full weight of my body against him. My breath comes in short, shallow pants, my heart beating hard against my rib cage as I hold Cody where I want him.

I pull in a deep breath, then use every ounce of strength I’ve built to flip him onto his back. His eyes widen, his chest heaving as I throw myself on top of him, pressing my knee just above his groin and my dominant arm against his throat, effectively immobilizing him. He grits his teeth, scowling as he struggles beneath me, knowing he can’t move enough to get free.

I hold his gaze, relishing in the triumph of taking him down and witnessing the look of defeat in his eyes.

The blare of Noah’s whistle fills me with a dizzying mix of relief and pride as I climb off Cody to leave him on the mats, breathing hard and no doubt cursing my existence.

Sierra, Brynne, and Wyatt rush over and slap me on the back, offering their congratulations. They have no idea what this victory means for me, but their excitement only adds to the warm fuzzy feeling in my chest.

My gaze finds Noah’s as the next two trainees take the mats. He offers a nod and a grin that tells me I passed the test, and that paired with the pride in his eyes has me floating on a cloud of warmth and accomplishment for the rest of class.

I’ve never been happier to endure New York City traffic than I am the next morning picking Harper up from JFK. I borrow Noah’s car and meet her at arrivals, and there are squeals of excitement as we squeeze each other so hard I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. I saw her only two weeks ago in Seattle, but with everything going on in both our lives, moments like these feel as if they hold more weight. More importance.

Once we’re in the car heading toward my apartment, Harper turns to me. “So what’s the plan?”

“Uhhh…” I drag out the word. “That’s a pretty loaded question these days.” Since I passed my reevaluation yesterday, I decide I don’t need to tell Harper I failed the first test. My position in the program is secure for now, so there’s no sense in making her worry for nothing.

She playfully punches me in the shoulder. “I meant for my trip. What are we doing for Thanksgiving?”

“My dad’s cooking, which you’ll be happy about, and I don’t know besides that. Noah is probably going to come over. We’ll eat and drink too much, maybe watch the parade. I haven’t really thought too much about it. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She grins at me from the passenger seat.

Groaning under my breath, I hesitate before saying, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are we going to talk about how you feel about Noah coming to dinner? I’ve refrained from saying anything about you driving his car. This is his, right?”

I exhale a short laugh, nodding. “He would’ve had dinner with my dad whether I was here or not.”

Noah’s family lives out of state, so he typically spends holidays either by himself or with my dad. He’s known my family for most of his life. He’s practically part of it by now.

After we drop Harper’s things at my apartment, we meet up with Noah in the lobby and catch a cab to my dad’s place so we don’t have to worry about driving.

Dad’s in the kitchen when we arrive, an apron tied around his waist and his reading glasses on as he studies the tablet in his hand, glancing between it and what appears to be some type of casserole.

“Hey, Dad.” I walk over and give him a half hug, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hey, kiddo.” He smiles in greeting at Harper and Noah. “Would you believe me if I told you I have been in the kitchen since seven o’clock this morning?”

I laugh fondly. “Yeah, I would actually.”

“Everything smells amazing, if that helps,” Harper chimes in, and my dad shoots her a wink. My eyebrows lift when her cheeks go pink, and she dips her chin before glancing away.

“Is there anything we can help with?” I ask, refusing to explore the weirdness of that moment. I think my head would explode.

Dad shakes his head, waving us away. “You guys relax in the other room, watch the parade, help yourselves to a drink. Everything will be ready in an hour or so.”

Harper, Noah, and I saunter into the living room, where Dad’s flatscreen is already turned on to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Harper flops onto the couch with a content sigh, grabbing a blanket off the back and wrapping it around herself, while Noah and I converge at the bar cart in the corner of the room. I glance over at the screen every so often to see the floats—several oversized animals followed by Santa’s sleigh, which has always been my favorite.

“Whiskey sour?” Noah asks, bumping my shoulder with his. The hint of his cologne tickles my nose with the subtle scent of rain and mint, and I can’t help the tentative smile that curls my lips as I nod. It’s a small thing, but Noah remembering my drink of choice fills my stomach with a faint fluttering sensation.

“Once you two are done flirting like I’m not here, I’d love a margarita.”

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