Page 107 of Without a Trace
Trace’s gaze flicked to my legs, then my mouth. Alden scanned the scene through his sunglasses, unreadable. They didn’t speak. Just took their place at the edge of the circle like they’d been summoned.
I didn’t look at them again.
Didn’t give them the satisfaction.
But I felt their presence like gravity.
“Who’s next?” I asked, rolling my shoulders.
The air buzzed with salt and sweat, the sea wind cutting through the heat. Zeke’s eyes narrowed, reading something the others didn’t.
“I’ll go,” Alden said.
Trace didn’t respond. He lit a cigarette and stepped back.
Alden rolled his neck as he entered the ring. Slow. Controlled. Dangerous without needing to prove it.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t flirt. Just waited.
“Not gonna go easy on me?” I asked, circling.
His voice was low. “Should I?”
I smirked, shifting my stance. “Not if you want to keep your ego intact.”
He moved first—sharp, testing. I ducked, spun, landed a jab to his ribs that barely registered.
We moved through instinct.
We knew each other’s rhythms. Even if we’d never moved this way before.
Every glance was a question. Every strike, a thread pulled tighter. I moved on instinct, not memory—drawn to him in ways I couldn’t explain. My body had been trained for this. For him. For the quiet war in his eyes and the rhythm we fell into, as if it had always existed between us. As if we’d been circling this moment long before we understood what it meant.
I blocked a low kick. Swung high. He dodged and caught my wrist midair, fast and sure.
We were too close.
Too breathless.
Too charged.
I yanked free and shoved him back, eyes burning. “This supposed to be training or foreplay?”
Something flickered in his eyes, but he held steady. “Depends who’s watching.”
Trace exhaled behind him, smoke curling in the heat.
Zeke stepped forward. “Enough.”
But I wasn’t finished.
I turned toward him, chest rising. “What, afraid I’ll beat your favorite?
Zeke stepped into the circle.
His presence was colder. Focused. No fire, no flirtation—just the calculated stillness of someone who knew how to hurt.
He didn’t speak right away. Just studied me as I rolled my shoulders, heart still pounding from Alden.
