Page 44 of The Last Dragon
“With what exactly?” I ease my grip, and her hand slides under the table, resting on her knee.
“What’s it to you?”
“A lot knowing that my Tracker has bruises on her knuckles.” I rest my head on my hand, leaning on the table
“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Her voice is sharp, a near hiss behind it.
I watch her for a minute. Her gaze doesn’t falter. That’s how I know she means it. “Alright,” I say, picking up my fork again. I know I won’t let this go easily. “Does itactuallyhelp?”
For a moment, she doesn’t answer, weighing whether to lie or tell the truth. Then, she nods.
“Sometimes. Not as much as I want it to.” She looks up again, her eyes are like fading embers.
“So what, you punch the bag harder when it doesn’t work?” I scoff, trying to lighten up the mood. She smiles.
“No,” she says. “I just keep going until it no longer hurts.”
I don’t say anything, but I hate to see her in pain.
I catch a glimpse of Alex, pacing around trying to find a place to sit. Every time he approaches a table, the cadets either raise their legs on the bench or purposely spill water on it. He clicks his tongue, the corner of his mouth turning into a sneer. He catches my eye, stopping in his tracks, eyes narrowing. He steps back, his sneer fading into a grimace that twists with cruel, predatory malice, unmistakably aimed at me. My body tenses, every muscle coiling as a sense of danger floods my senses. Whatever he’s thinking, it can’t be good. He strides toward me,breaking our gaze, and casually takes a seat on the bench beside us. He doesn’t turn to look at me, as if he’s pretending I’m not here. Instead, his eyes sweep across the mess hall. I try to focus on my meal before a gentle scoff comes from him.
“I wonder what gender it is,” he mutters, low but sharp enough to make its mark. The words send an icy shiver down my spine. My jaw tightens, and with slow, deliberate force, I turn my head toward him.
I expect a flicker of confusion, some sign that he hasn’t spoken to me. That I’m just going insane—a voice in my head. But his eyes glimmer with something dark, something I never wanted to see in someone like him—confidence.
Without thinking, I rise from the bench. Two strides, and I’m towering over him. My heart pounds. I’m unsure if it’s fueled by anger or the deep-seated fear of what comes next. Did I hear him right?
“What did you say?” My voice is calm, a mask over the fury clenching my jaw, though my teeth grind with enough force to remind me of the lie. For now, I am still in control.
He looks up at me—unbothered—still wearing a grin I desperately want to wipe off his face. Another scoff slips from his lips, his smirk widening as he leans in a fraction closer.
“I think you heard what I said.” His voice drips with taunting certainty, his posture relaxed, as if the power in this moment belongs to him alone.
Without thinking, my hand slashes through the air, fingers curling around his collar, and I lift him like a feather. A tray of food goes flying. Gasps echo from behind me, chairs scrape against the floor, voices call out my name. Shadows circle around me and Alex. I pull him closer.
“What did you say?” I seethe, gripping tighter, silently hoping he will choke out the words once more. But I try to remain calm.Steady. Breathing through my nose. Yet I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry before.
A twisted sneer appears on his face as he gasps for air, letting out small chuckles of amusement.
This brat.
I pull him up just a bit higher, threatening to end his life with a glare. If anyone asks, I’ll just say he insulted a commander. Probably the only time I’d use this privilege.
Nida exclaims, grabbing my shoulders and trying to force me to let him go. Eryca’s eyes narrow, her lips pressed into a thin line as she brushes at the food now smeared on her leather jacket. I stare at Alex, a glimmer in his eyes telling me he isn’t backing down.
“What do you know?” I seethe again, inches from him. I’ll rip this throat out with my teeth if I have to. He chokes, grabbing my arms to loosen up the grip.
“Everything.” A faint grin appears on his face moments later.
Shit.
I release the pressure from his throat and I take a few steps back as he fumbles against the table. He gets up and brushes the crumbs off his jacket, then runs his hands over his messy black curls.
Do I kill him? Maybe not now. Later? An accident?
I watch his every move, ready to strike. If he so much as flinches the wrong way, I’ll drive the dagger at my waist straight into his throat.
“If you do anything like that again,” he whispers, adjusting his leather jacket. “I’llsing.” The crooked smile never leaves his face, mocking me.
