Page 87

“When I came to GenCre, I was not expecting to be.” I wave my hands around the room.
“Apart of a new family,” she finishes.
Family.
I purse my lips. “A group.” Although she is right. I didn't expect any of this, and it only furthers my confusion about what I should, orneed, to do. “My plan was to come, then leave.”
Wicked tosses the band onto the bench beside her. “And now things have changed because you realize how banger this place is.”
I straighten my back, side eyeing her. “Precisely.”
“So, what's the deal?” Wicked stands and gestures her arm out for me to clasp it. I have the urge to slap it away, but I do need her so I can walk to Dr. Rio. My ribs are healing, but a nagging pain still shoots to my side whenever I try to walk upright. Standing, she takes my arm lightly, and I loop my arm into hers. She’s cold from the sweat coating her skin.
“The deal is, I don’t know where my place is here.” I finally admit. Saying it out loud doesn't feel so bad, either.
“Your place?”
“My role. What will I do?”
How will it affect Ronan, and I’s...situation? I’m not sure what we are. I tried my best to keep it at a distance, but it snapped like a twig, and we fell into each other, kissing, fucking and all. I leave that bit to myself.
“Sometimes it’s okay to not think,” she says as she leads me out of the gym. The cool air brushes over my face, and I realize how damp it was in there.
My brows draw in, confused. “What?”
“If you keep thinking about all the ‘what ifs’ and all the calculating moves that you make up in your head, it will prevent you from moving forward. Then, you’ll never experience the actual risk. Shit, you’re so scared that you can’t decide whether you want to leave or stay.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I snap.
Wicked laughs at my reaction. “Only someone who’s afraid would say that.”
I blink, her words drowning into my mind like I’m being thrust into the ocean. Am I doing this because I’m afraid? Does it all revolve around that one thing? Fear.
I stay quiet, pondering on her blunt advice. We pass by other mercenaries, some of them steering clear so they don't run into us, other students stroll idly with textbooks or gear in their hands. We end up at the south hall, and I catch the sign that says Combat Class. My heart skips and I tap Wicked’s hand without thinking and peer in the square window, giving me a preview of the session. I’ll take a guess and assume that’s Señores Vander, the teacher who is leaving for paternity leave. I watch as he shows them the Kimura Lock jiu-jitsu technique. I notice Isabella immediately, acting as the fighter, and she struggles to put the opponent in the shoulder joint lock.
Can you teach the women's self-defense combat class?
Wicked looks into the window too, wrapping her sweaty hair into a neater ponytail. “Either take the risk and jump. Or you can continue to settle for the life you had. It's up to you to see whether you found it fulfilling.”
I chew on the side of my mouth and glance down at the floor, then back at the class. When has my life ever been fulfilling?
When you came here.
I shake off all the little feelings wanting to crawl over and attack my heart. I loop my arm in hers again. “You know, in Cinderella, the evil sisters were still mean to her. You’re not playing your part very well.” I side eye her as she guides me down the hall.
She shrugs. “Maybe. But I think we are past that.”
I look over at the woman who hated my guts months ago and wanted me dead as much as I wanted Ronan gone—now she’s someone I would kill for.
Wicked hums, clasping my arm as if to shove me. “If you'd like, I can push you down and say, ‘you disgusting twit’ is that better?”
So evil. I know she won’t do it, but I smirk at her and nod my approval. “That’s more like it.”