Winging it, p.17
Winging It, page 17
But I didn’t believe her.
“That’s true,” I said casually, leaning in a little, watching her. “I heard he was seeing someone. Someone new. Maybe that’s what was going on?”
Carissa’s head snapped toward me so fast I felt it like a crack in the air. Her face tightened, every trace of performative warmth gone. “No,” she said flatly. “He was single.”
The words hit too fast. Too firm. My pulse skipped. I blinked, just once, but kept my expression easy, even as something cold flickered behind my ribs.
“You sure?” I asked, tilting my head. My voice stayed soft, probing without accusation. “Because he didn’t seem like someone who’d isolate when he was already overwhelmed.”
She folded her arms tightly across her chest, like she was holding herself together. “He had his reasons.”
Clipped. Defensive. My instincts prickled like static over skin.
“Right,” I murmured. “But… I’ve been wondering. The pressure he was under—it wasn’t just coming from inside. Maybe there was someone here. Someone he was involved with. Someone who made things more complicated.”
Carissa’s jaw twitched. Her gaze slid past me for half a second before it snapped back, sharp as broken glass. “Pressure’s part of the job,” she said, colder now. “We all deal with it.”
“Some people do,” I agreed, voice still even. “But Finn wasn’t someone who kept things buried. Not if he trusted someone.”
The silence between us thickened. Her nails dug into her sleeves. I saw it then—the shift behind her eyes. Not just discomfort. Not just annoyance.
Wounded pride.
Betrayal.
“What is this?” she snapped. “You interrogating me now?”
I kept my posture relaxed, but my heartbeat had started to climb. “No,” I said quietly. “Just trying to understand why someone might’ve wanted him gone.”
Her lips parted—barely—but she didn’t speak. Instead, she turned toward her drink, like maybe the answers were floating somewhere in the glass.
“He wasn’t scared because of a new girlfriend,” she said, voice low and brittle. “He was scared because he thought someone was going to hurt him.”
My breath hitched. I swallowed it down. “Did you know who he was seeing?”
Her hand tightened around the base of her glass, knuckles whitening. I watched her carefully.
"I mean, I have a guess," I continued. "I was here yesterday with Eren. And you know who was here. Some blonde cougar. Totally went after him. Eren, I mean. Shameless. I mean, I can't blame her for copping a feel. Eren's very muscley. But Finn? Finn's boy compared to Eren."
Carissa clenched her teeth.
“Did you snap at him?” I asked, the question slipping out like a knife. “Was it because he was seeing someone? Someone close to you?”
And there it was.
The flicker.
Betrayal. Anger. Grief.
It was all over her face before she could stop it.
She’d just confirmed everything.
I leaned in, every nerve alive, every instinct screaming that something wasn’t right. Carissa’s expression twisted—no more smiles, no more masks. Her voice snapped like a whip.
“He deserved it!” she hissed, venomous and raw. “Finn used me. He treated this job—me—like some kind of stepping stone. Sleeping with my sister while sneaking around behind my back, whispering about illegal Dominion work like he was some noble rebel.” Her eyes burned. “He was going to ruin everything.”
I froze.
Her sister?
That blonde cougar was–?
Her words landed like a physical blow. I felt my breath catch, my stomach lurch. She wasn’t bluffing. She wasn’t deflecting. She was confessing.
And she didn’t even realize it.
A beat passed before her own expression shifted. She blinked—once, twice—and the fire in her gaze flickered, replaced by something cold and shaking.
“I… I didn’t mean that,” she whispered, backing away half a step, her voice laced with rising panic. “You don’t understand. I can’t risk—”
A pulse surged through the room—low, crackling. Dominion energy. My wings twitched, the faintest ripple of light trailing along my shoulders as my own magic stirred in warning. I felt it before I saw it: the air shifting, humming, trembling with her unraveling control.
“Carissa,” I said gently, hands raised, my voice steady despite the thunder in my chest. “Don’t.”
But it was too late.
Her eyes glazed over, wild and unfocused. And then—she moved. Fast, chaotic, driven by desperation more than precision. Her Dominion snapped like a whip across the air, heat and force spiraling toward me.
I reacted on instinct. Light burst from my shoulders as my wings unfurled in a blinding arc, catching the edge of her power before it could land. The feathers shimmered, harder than steel, slicing the air with precision as I shifted my stance.
“Enough!” I shouted, voice echoing with something deeper than sound—my Dominion reinforcing every syllable.
Carissa lunged again, but this time my wings moved with me. One swept forward, intercepting her strike. The other twisted like a blade, feathers hardening, glowing faintly with golden light as they snapped forward and pinned her against the office door with a sharp, satisfying crack.
She gasped, shocked still. Her eyes wide. I stood before her, breath heaving, wings half-arched like a shield and a warning.
My hand was already at my comm.
“This is Cadet Vale. Code violet. Suspect subdued. Requesting backup at Pulse—now.”
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Even as my wings folded back in, the edges still tingled with the sharp energy of my Dominion—bright and raw, like static caught beneath my skin. Carissa had lunged, actually lunged at me, and for one terrifying second, I hadn’t been sure I’d react fast enough. The weight of what almost happened sat heavy in my chest. That had been too close.
The club office spun ever so slightly around me, and I curled my fingers into fists, trying to ground myself. My breath came shallow, fast. The air was still thick with the scent of adrenaline and charged emotion. I needed to get it together.
Across the room, Carissa squirmed where I’d pinned her to the door with glowing feather-daggers—my own magic, flung in pure instinct. Her eyes burned with fury, even as her movements slowed, resignation beginning to settle into her bones.
“You can’t hold me here forever,” she spat, voice sharp with defiance.
I lifted my chin, forcing my voice to stay even, calm, controlled. “Watch me.”
It came out more confident than I felt. But it was enough to shut her up—for now. She glared at me like she still hadn’t decided whether I was a threat or just a girl who’d gotten lucky.
And maybe I had gotten lucky. Because I knew, deep down, if I’d been a second slower, if I hadn’t trusted my wings to respond… I could’ve been the one on the ground. I didn’t just need more control—I needed better instincts. Faster reflexes. Real training.
Because tonight, my Dominion had saved me.
But next time?
Next time, I wouldn’t survive on instinct alone.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
I didn’t move.
My wings stayed tight against my back, still humming faintly with residual energy. My hands trembled, but I kept them at my sides, fingers flexing like they were trying to remember what stillness felt like. Every breath I took was sharp and deliberate, like I had to remind myself I was okay. That it was over. Almost.
The door to Carissa’s office creaked open.
Two senior Dominion agents stepped inside like they owned the air. I recognized them both immediately—Agent Reid and Agent Callen—calm, cold professionals who looked like they’d never so much as blinked during a crisis. Their presence settled the air, cutting through the tension like clean lines drawn in chaos.
“Cadet Vale,” Reid said, his tone unreadable, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
“Sir.” I managed the word without cracking. My throat still felt dry, adrenaline pushing hard beneath my skin.
He looked at Carissa—still pinned to the door by a lattice of glowing feathers—and nodded once. “Stand down.”
I exhaled and let my Dominion retract, the light folding inward with a whisper. My wings twitched, exhausted.
The agents moved in fluid sync. Callen stepped forward and clasped a pair of Dominion-dampening restraints around Carissa’s wrists while Reid kept watch. Carissa hissed and twisted in place, glaring at all of us.
“You can’t hold me,” she snarled, venom in every syllable. “You think you’re all above it—glorified enforcers with nothing but rules to cling to.”
Neither agent flinched.
“You’re under arrest,” Reid said coolly. “For assaulting a Dominion cadet and murder.”
The restraints hissed as they locked. Carissa’s eyes darted to me—wild, unhinged. She didn’t speak again. They marched her past me without pause.
I stood frozen, watching her disappear down the stairs, flanked by precision and law.
Just before Reid stepped out, he turned back and gave me a nod. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was acknowledgment—solid and certain—and that was somehow more grounding than anything gentle could’ve been.
The doors slammed open with a bang that echoed straight down to my bones.
Eren burst in like a thunderclap, eyes wild and locked on everything all at once. He looked like he hadn’t even finished getting dressed—his coat was half fastened, his hair a storm of wind-tossed waves, and his chest rose and fell like he’d run the whole way here.
And then his gaze found me.
For half a second, I saw it—relief. A flicker in those fire-shadowed eyes. But just as quickly, it vanished, swallowed whole by something sharper. Anger. Fury. Panic barely masked behind a wall of control.
“Vale.” His voice cracked like lightning through the silence.
I stood straighter than I meant to. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” he snapped, eyes flicking over the room like he was ready to arrest the air itself. The agents were just clearing out, and Carissa’s figure was shrinking down the hallway. “What the hell happened here?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. What could I even say that would make this better? That I followed a gut instinct? That I didn’t want to bother him? That I just wanted to feel capable?
“She came at me first,” I said, the words rough in my throat. “I handled it.”
His expression didn’t budge. If anything, it hardened.
“You went in alone.” His voice dropped lower, but the edge in it only got sharper. “No backup. No message. Nothing.”
“I didn’t tell you,” I said, arms folding over my chest, “because all I was going to do was ask her about Finn quitting. You needed rest. I didn't think it was going to turn into this.”
He stepped back like I’d struck him. Ran a hand through his hair in frustration, palm dragging down over his mouth. “You don’t get to decide when you go off-book. You’re not there yet.”
That one stung. My chest tightened. “She would’ve gotten away.”
“And you could’ve gotten killed,” he bit back, voice quiet but feral now.
The silence between us stretched thin and sharp like a wire ready to snap.
I met his eyes, heart pounding, breath shaky—but I didn’t look away.
Eren moved closer, his presence crackling with heat and storm. The space between us shrank, charged with tension that vibrated in the air like the seconds before a lightning strike.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he said, voice low and precise—each word clipped like it was too sharp to handle gently.
I flinched, just a little, but I didn’t move back. “You needed sleep,” I said. “I didn’t think she was a threat—until she was.”
“Exactly.” His tone sliced through the room. “You didn’t think. Your response system is pathetic.”
The words struck deeper than I expected. Heat surged behind my ribs—anger, humiliation, something sharp and unsteady. I opened my mouth to throw something back, but he didn’t give me the chance.
“We’re starting combat training tomorrow. Early. Don’t be late.”
The words hit like stone—final, immovable. My chest rose with a breath I didn’t remember taking. I wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t know what it had taken for me to stand my ground tonight, but the look on his face stopped me cold.
“Fine,” I said, forcing the word out before it could catch in my throat.
“You need it. Pathetic, Vale.”
My breath was still shaky, but there it was—that familiar edge of defiance rising like a shield. “Oh, great,” I snapped. “I love being insulted and threatened with cardio in the same breath.”
“Good,” Eren replied, dry as dust. “Maybe it’ll finally shake that glitter out of your system.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but my pulse was sprinting beneath the surface. He wasn’t yelling. He was worried. I saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in how his fingers twitched like he didn’t know what to do with them—like maybe, if he reached for me, he wouldn’t know how to stop.
“Look,” I said, stepping in, my voice softer but firm. “I didn’t think it would escalate like that. I wasn’t looking for a fight.”
Eren’s arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me, unwavering and sharp. “And you thought you could charm your way through an interrogation? This isn’t a game, Vale.”
I shifted my weight, trying not to fidget under the intensity of that stare. “I wasn’t charming anyone. I asked questions. Like a decent cadet would.”
“Decent cadets don’t go rogue.” His tone was clipped, but behind it I heard the tension straining at the seams—concern trying to disguise itself as discipline.
“Maybe I wanted to prove myself,” I blurted, my voice rising. “Maybe I wanted to show you I could handle this without being babysat every step of the way. Or do you forget my review?"
“Proving yourself doesn’t mean getting yourself killed.” His voice dropped to a low, warning hum—quiet but cutting.
“I’m not fragile,” I said, too fast, too forceful. “I fought to get here. Every inch of it.”
“And yet here we are.” He took a step forward, and suddenly we were inches apart, his presence wrapping around me like static—prickling and loud even in silence.
“You could’ve been killed tonight,” he said, barely above a whisper, but the words hit harder than if he’d shouted.
“I get you're my superior officer, I do,” I snapped, my voice cracking on the last word. “But you can't coddle me if I'm supposed to learn how to survive in the field."
His eyes softened—just barely—but then the mask slid back into place. “No?” he asked, cool and quiet. “And what happens when your risk drags someone else down with you?”
I swallowed, the heat behind my ribs burning brighter than before—because I didn’t have an answer. Not one I wanted to say out loud.
The silence between us stretched thin, taut as wire, as the last of the Pulse patrons trickled out behind us. Laughter faded into the night, leaving only the soft thrum of bass still humming through the walls. The neon overhead flickered, casting washed-out shadows across Eren’s face—and mine. Everything felt heavy and close and oddly suspended, like time had paused to see what we’d do next.
Eren’s eyes hadn’t left me. He watched me with that piercing, unreadable look of his—like I was something wild and half-feral that he couldn’t quite categorize. My heart was still pounding from the aftermath of everything, but now it pounded for a different reason entirely.
“You were reckless,” he said at last, voice low and even, but not unkind. “But I was wrong about you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Not as lackluster as I thought.” He didn’t smirk. He didn’t tease. Just said it like a fact—like it had cost him something to admit.
Something inside me stuttered. My breath. My thoughts. “You thought I was lackluster?”
Eren didn’t move much, but he stepped forward just enough to be noticeable—just enough that I could feel the shift in air between us. “I thought you weren’t ready. That you were too caught up in proving something to see the danger.”
“And now?”
He looked at me, really looked, with that stormy intensity that never quite settled. “Now I see someone who didn’t run when it counted.”
The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. But they did. Because they were coming from him. Because I’d been waiting to be seen—not as a liability or a tagalong or Eli’s shadow, but as someone who could stand in the fire and stay standing.
A warmth stirred in my chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with something quieter, deeper. I held his gaze and for once didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.
Something between us shifted then—subtle, not quite trust, not yet ease. But it was something. And I wasn’t about to let it go.
“I knew you’d warm up to me,” I said, pointing a triumphant finger at him like I’d just won a bet with the universe. “Took you long enough.”
Eren groaned—an actual, audible groan—like my words physically pained him. “Don’t start.”
I leaned in, grinning like the cat who’d just licked the cream clean. “Admit it. You like having me around.”
“I like not having to file a cadet’s death report,” he muttered, turning slightly like he could escape the conversation by glaring at the sidewalk.
“That’s not a no,” I sing-songed.
“It’s a don’t push your luck,” he shot back, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed him.
I gasped, full of theatrical offense. “Was that… was that a smile, Agent Thorne?”
He deadpan stared at me. “You’re hallucinating.”
