Page 58 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

TWENTY-SEVEN

EMMA

He stormed out of my room, his steps heavy and deliberate, like an angry child. If I hadn’t been as pissed off as I was, I would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it.

Mr. "I have it all figured out," Mr. "I’m going to be your president someday soon," Mr. "I don’t hold back in telling you everything that’s wrong with you." Nothing more than a stubborn little child.

The shock of discovering he was Humanborn was slowly diminishing, and I felt his pain, only able to guess at what it must have meant to spend so much time in foster care.

But still! Where the heck did he get off talking to me like that?

I was seething with anger. My hands were clenched into tight fists, and I, too, began to stomp around the room.

If he could stomp, so could I. And so I stomped.

I stomped to my door and all the way downstairs.

Leaving seemed like the only option. I had no destination in mind, just a burning need to escape.

Left, right, left—I stormed past floors and towers, consumed by anger at the audacity of the man who had crossed me. Every hallway blurred together until I reached the last corner of the Fall Palace, where James's voice unexpectedly pierced the air.

I froze, instinctively seeking cover behind the nearest wall. The idea of having to face him again, made my stomach churn.

Peeking around the corner, I watched as he conversed with a stranger, blocking my path. Darn it, he was literally standing between me and my exit. Deciding to wait him out, I pressed against the wall, melding into the shadows.

Perhaps I should have turned away. But I didn’t.

I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, and I really shouldn’t have listened in. But I did.

They exchanged words—James and someone named Enzo, apparently. I strained to decipher their discussion, unable to resist the pull of curiosity.

“I don’t understand. You won’t assign me to the Bastille?” Enzo sounded anxious.

Bastille? The term was unfamiliar to me. I concentrated even harder.

“No,” James replied curtly, his boredom evident as he attempted to shake off Enzo, who persisted in following him. Not smart.

“Why not?” Enzo pressed.

“Because you’re not suited for it,” James stated bluntly, increasing his pace. I discreetly trailed behind them.

“But I’ve been training for months!” Enzo protested, growing visibly frustrated.

“Enzo, you were trained as a Defensive. You want to switch careers and become an Offensive, go right ahead but don’t bother me about it in the middle of my fucking day,” James dismissed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Undeterred, Enzo foolishly pushed further. “But I trained extensively with AJ!”

“And I extensively don’t give a shit,” James countered, his tone firm.

Enzo’s persistence reached a tipping point. “Clearly. You haven’t given ‘a shit’ since you started your futile training sessions with the granny.”

I swallowed and my heart sank at my unflattering nickname, now realizing what it really meant.

James halted and turned around slowly, his fists clenched, his gaze fixated on Enzo with seething anger. My breath caught as I witnessed the intensity of his glare, potent enough to crush a small army.

Then he spoke slowly, enunciating every word. His voice was laced with poison, his words ice-cold, leaving a trail of goosebumps even Eskimos would be jealous of.

“Call her ‘granny’, one. More. Fucking. Time.”

My eyes widened in shock. Did he just stand up for me?

Enzo snorted derisively. “Then what? You’ll kill me? Like you did those poor people you called your parents?”

Wait. What?

James didn’t dignify Enzo's taunt with words, but the simmering rage emanating from his body spoke volumes.

“It’s sad, really,” Enzo sneered on. “The Council losing their prized contract killer to Leadership is one thing, but to see him fall under the sway of Miss Epic Disaster… I gotta tell ya, never thought I’d see the day the mighty James Walker would forsake his Leadership for a granny.

But then again, I guess no one really did. ”

One second Enzo was standing. The next he was lying down, unconscious. With one single blow to the head, James had knocked the asshole out.

I clutched my hand before my mouth. My eyes darted swiftly to James’s face, trying to discern what the heck was going through his mind.

I expected any form of rage or emotion showing but his demeanor was stone-cold.

His breathing, as far as I could tell, was regular and there was no tremor in his hands.

Without shifting a muscle, he nonchalantly nudged Enzo with his left foot, as if testing whether he had transformed the latter into a corpse. Enzo remained unresponsive.

A few seconds passed. James kicked him a little harder. Still no reaction.

James took out his Nexus and translated something to someone. A second later, Jackson appeared. Crap . I leaned as far back as I could to the wall, making sure I stayed invisible.

“Are you kidding me with this shit, James?” He hissed as he stepped through his green portal.

James's expression remained unyielding, as Jackson bent over Enzo.

“What the hell did he do to deserve this?” Jackson's frustration was evident as he gestured wildly.

“He insulted her,” James stated coldly, clearly not feeling the need to elaborate further.

Three little words. Three little words that made me forget all about our earlier fight. Three little words that ignited a surge of warmth within me, flooding my senses with very conflicting emotions.

“He insulted her..." Jackson shook his head in disbelief. “And you’re still fucking convinced you’re in control?”

He didn’t even await James’s answer. I watched as Jackson muttered something under his breath, opened up another portal, and ushered James through it while levitating Enzo in the same direction.

A second later, all three of them had vanished, leaving me cloaked in shadows and overwhelmed by confusion.

The evening sun casted an orange glow through my window and I seated myself in its warmth. The book I had intended to read lay forgotten in my lap, my mind drifting far from its pages.

“Call her ‘granny’, one. More. Fucking. Time.”

“He insulted her.”

Each time I replayed those words in my mind, my stomach did that thing. That thing I usually only got from reading passionate scenes in my trashy novels.

Before James had started training me, we had been…something. Not something I could describe in words, but it had been…something! In those first few weeks after my retrieval, James had been far warmer toward me than he was now. Or had that been my imagination?

Ever since the night of my abduction, his demeanor had ranged from indifference to outright rudeness. And that was putting it mildly. We’d had no more intimacy, no more longing looks, no more accidental touches. Nothing. Not from his side anyway.

It was as if everything that had happened between us before, which wasn’t much to begin with, had never happened. And I couldn't fathom why things had changed so drastically.

The night he saved my life—and stayed by my side the entire night while I slept, leaving my heart pounding like a lumberjack on crack when I found out—something between us had shifted.

Initially, I suspected it had something to do with Justine.

However, aside from her reaction on the night of the reception, I had found no further evidence to support that theory.

Plus, when I broached the subject in a casual conversation with Jackson—who was becoming something of a friend—his utterly confused reaction suggested that any romantic involvement with her was purely a figment of her imagination.

So that wasn't the reason.

Then I considered it could be related to the incident itself.

I had been bombarding James with questions about that night, and while he was clearly as frustrated as I was with the lack of answers (yet), I was confident he’d tell me when he could.

Unlike James, I was convinced the Radicals had attempted to abduct me in relation to my untraceable translation.

But James insisted that only the Council knew about it, so either there was a mole in the Council (highly unlikely) or there was another motive we had yet to uncover.

So there was that, but our differing theories about my abduction didn't seem like a plausible reason for him to suddenly change our entire dynamic.

Maybe James’s physical attraction to me had simply…ended?

Gods, I hoped that wasn’t the case.

I stared out my window, and I watched as the last rays of sun vanished and the night overtook Cyclos in its hold. My mind wandered back to our fight after class. How he’d had the audacity to judge me for feeling lonely, or for not feeling, or for fearing to feel or for whatever it was.

And then . Then, he’d stood up for me like a lion defending his lioness.

If he truly didn't care, why bother threatening someone over my nickname? Why punch him out cold?

My mind was racing so loudly I barely heard the knock on my door.

James.

It had to be him. Who else could it be? I flung the door open with exaggerated dramatics, only to find Jackson there with such a serious resting face, it gave him an instant air of gravitas and thoughtfulness.

I raised a brow and inquired impatiently, “Jackson. Can I help you?”

Jackson raised his brow at my rude tone and responded in a soft tone, “It appears I’ve caught you at a difficult time.”

I let out a deep sigh and remarked, “Timing isn’t on your side today, that much is true. But I can hardly fault you for the confusing behavior of a ranting raccoon.”

“A ranting raccoon?” He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Look, I am sorry to barge in here like this, but I was wondering if I could steal some of your time and talk to you over coffee.” He smiled, charm oozing out of him.

Letting out a deep sigh, I looked at him with weary eyes. “Sure, if can you make it something stronger than coffee?”

Jackson grinned. “Done.”