Page 14 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)

VIOLET

SEVEN DAYS UNTIL GRADUATION

Take My Breath Away by Berlin

M aster Sergeant is dangerous. Our proximity is lethal, and he is more of a threat than I thought. Being around him is suffocating. I’m scared to move, talk, and breathe because of how it makes me feel.

He walked me to my barracks in silence. As soon as I got inside and my door closed, he was gone. I expected him to go back on his word and have me thrown out, but he granted me mercy. Something he’s not known for.

But maybe he doesn’t hate me as badly as I think he does. He could have had me thrown out of the course. Yet here I am, just days before I wear the green beret. He didn’t ask about Adam or any more questions about my personal life, which I appreciated.

The relationship with Adam is blurred, but I can’t ignore the fact that his father is the hot instructor, a famous operator, and every female soldier who walks by him does a double-take…like right now.

A group of female soldiers keeps circling him, hoping he’ll acknowledge their presence.

He doesn’t.

I’m in the corner of the gym, sitting on a bench press, drinking water after finishing five reps of fifty.

All the instructors are on the other side of the gym doing deadlifts, pull-ups, and spotting each other.

Sergeant Booker is telling jokes, and Slater chuckles at each one, doubling over until his face reddens.

Yet Kade never laughs…not even a smirk. He’s so focused on working out that it’s like he isn’t here anymore. He’s good at blocking out the world.

He wears a black hat with the United States flag patch front and center, and the ends of his hair curl around his ears.

Bright white ceiling lights shine against the perspiration that glistens on his tan skin.

The snakes on his arm are captivating—no— distracting .

The muscle T-shirt shows off his back tattoos and the front of his chest—g uns with skulls .

Every time his triceps flex, my breathing turns shallow. He watches himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, perfecting his posture. The veins in his neck and forearms bulge, and his upper lip rises, flashing his sharp canines. He’s deadlifting an incredible amount of weight, and the way his ass…

No .

My eyes search for anything to distract me from the stirring of my core. Swallowing my water hard, I stand and go to the next workout machine—one with a view that doesn’t reach O’Connell’s.

It’s another weekend with our phones, the one before graduation. I have to survive seven more days, and I’ll be the first female in my family to join special operations.

My phone rings from an unknown number.

Weird. I answer anyway, swiping right.

I hold the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Violet!”

My heart drops, and a flutter of grief mixed with anger hits me. I scoff as I remember our last interaction at the airport.

“Goodbye, Adam.”

“No, please don’t hang up,” he blurts.

“Why are you calling me?” I whisper into the speaker over the sound of weights hitting the racks, blaring heavy metal music, and muffled conversations.

“I-I’m calling because I miss you, and I’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes out with desperation laced in his tone.

It almost makes me feel bad.

Almost .

Approximately a year later, and he misses me? Now? We’ve gone months without hearing from each other. Night and day, I grieved the person I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, and he…is sorry ?

I chew the inside of my lip. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Hear me out, please.”

“No.” My voice is strained.

“ Please .”

Walking to the empty squat machine in the corner, where it’s shockingly empty, I hold my breath. Even though I’m silent, he gets the message.

He exhales a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

I don’t reply.

“I-I want you back. Maybe I can do this. No, I know we can do this.”

My fingers yank the hair tie out of my head. My long hair falls past my shoulders. Scratching my sore scalp, my eyes narrow at my running shoes.

“Why? Why now?”

“Well…you blocked my number,” he retorts.

I did .

But he could have found a way if he really wanted to speak to me.

“Not hearing your voice has been,” he pauses, “excruciating. I can’t focus in school. I look around the halls on campus, praying it’ll be your shoulders I bump into. I miss stopping by your house after work to have dinner together. I miss you, My Flower.”

Flower .

His term of endearment for me.

It used to transform my mood into warmth, but now? It does the complete opposite.

“I’d rather wait for you than not have you at all.”

I scratch my scalp, annoyed.

“I can’t do this right now. I’m graduating in a few days.”

“I knew you would graduate. You’re so determined. Whatever you want, you go and get it. I admire that, Violet.”

I rear back. Where was his support when I needed it?

“I’m pretty sure you said I wouldn’t make it after a few weeks.”

“I was stupid,” he scoffs. His breath forces static to blare into my ears. “Tell me the day and location of the graduation ceremony, and I’ll be there. The last I heard, my dad was teaching the course again. Maybe I can introduce you guys for the first time if he has time, and we can all catch up.”

Why hasn’t Kade told him he’s my instructor yet?

“I don’t think so. All this time, I’ve been trying to force the ultimatums my mother and you gave me before I left out of my head. The guilt you guys made me feel for doing something that honors my dad…and you think I’ll just race into your arms after what you said to me?”

He’s quiet.

“No. This time, I’m sorry ,” I recite his fake apology back to him.

“Okay. I get it. You’re still mad. Completely valid. Can I see you then? If not at your graduation, then somewhere else? Some other time?”

He’s so dismissive. Is he not hearing me? I don’t have the energy to argue with him. Whenever we would get into disputes, we wouldn’t stop until we fixed things, but this time? I have no interest.

“No, Adam. If it wasn’t official for you when you said all of those things to me at the airport, I’m declaring it now. We’re over.”

“Dammit, Violet. Don’t say that. Please. Don’t break up with me over the phone. We’re not in fucking high school.”

It sounds like he’s berating me, and it only fuels the urge to get away from this conversation.

He was the one who ended things months ago.

Fighting back tears of frustration, I hang up.

I refuse to deal with this now. I’m glad I ended it. Now, we both don’t have to keep wondering where we are with each other. It feels good to rip off the Band-Aid, once and for all.

I slide fifty-pound plates on either side of the bar, forcing Adam out of my mind. I dip under it, plant my feet, and squat.

“I see you’re still here, with working legs,” Willis snarks behind me. He leans on the side of the machine, chewing his gum, while Preston chuckles like a puppet.

He closes the distance, his cold breath clouding my ear as I rise with the bar.

“You really shouldn’t lean over rooftops.

It could be dangerous.” My face twists in repulsion as his breath whooshes on the side of my neck.

Biting the inside of my lip, I jerk my head toward him, ready to remind him of what happened in combatives, but a loud, familiar voice interrupts me.

“Willis, Preston.” Booker’s southern accent clips the conversation short. “Sergeant Slater needs you over there.” He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb while glaring at the two men beside me.

“Yes, Sergeant,” Willis and Preston reply synchronously and walk away as if they have tails between their legs.

He crosses his arms and shakes his head. Even Booker has picked up on the fact that those two are always around me, doing little things here and there to get under my skin. I wonder when they’ll stop…or if Willis will try to do something worse.

Instructor Booker gives me a quick nod before walking to the men’s restrooms.

Sweat drips off my cheek, landing on the ground.

It’s hot in the gym today. At this point, the entire room resembles a sauna.

Straightening my back, I tighten my glutes and flick my eyes to the mirror—they grow wide when I glance up at the monstrous being.

The machine that’s been responsible for my torment, looking at me through my reflection.

Beast .

He’s right behind me.

I gasp.

“Sir?”

He stalks toward me—with every step he takes, tingling floods my body until a pulse comes alive between my thighs while a deeper shade of red paints my cheeks. With bated breath, I still, only my grip tightening around the bar until my knuckles turn white.

He towers over me. Our size difference has to be an entire foot, with the way the back of my head barely meets his chest. He doesn’t respond right away. His foot gets in between my feet and kicks them one by one further apart until he’s satisfied.

“Stay off your toes,” he tells me without eye contact. He walks away from me, and I can’t help but watch him go.

No one in my class likes him. Everyone fears and scatters when he walks into a room. They try to run, terrified to be on his radar when he’s near. But me? I crave the devil’s attention. He’s stunning in ways that have me wanting the villain. Beast makes sin tempting.

He exits the gym, and I jam my mouth shut.

Was I drooling?

I shake my head.

God, I need to get it together.

The familiar group of female soldiers who were eyeing him like ice cream on a hot day on the beach earlier rushes after him.

They push the doors open, practically racing to get to him first, and disappear into the parking lot.

I sneer, pinching my brows together—a sharp pain stings from clenching my jaw so hard.

I’ve never been jealous before in my life. Not with Adam, nor past boyfriends, but with my instructor? It’s a first for me. He’s not someone I should be getting jealous over. I need to remind myself of my place before I do something crazy, like thinking about what he’s like when he’s with a woman.