Page 8 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)
VIOLET
SEVEN MONTHS UNTIL GRADUATION
M y rucksack is packed, ready to go at five in the morning. My lids feel like they want to stay glued shut, my legs and shoulders are sore, but I keep soldiering on. I’m almost halfway there, and I’m surpassing every test since the pool incident.
We’re on buses, headed to do more Land Navigation for two days—something my father taught me how to do well. I have no doubts I’ll pass. Roberts sits next to me, nodding off every other second, so I nudge him with my shoulder to keep him awake.
“Let me sleep.”
“What if?—”
“The instructors aren’t going to be here to smoke us. If I were you, I’d use my shoulder to sleep on. Now, hurry up before I change my mind,” Roberts grumbles, slumping in his seat.
“Fine.”
When the buses stop, it jolts me awake. It felt like I blinked, and I’m nowhere near fully rested, but I’ll take the mini re-fuel. The bus ride lasted an hour. I passed out in seconds once my cheek met his shoulder.
Once I step off the bus, I take in my surroundings. We’re in the middle of the North Carolina woods, a specified off-limits to civilians training area for the course.
We’re going to spend all day here because Land Nav begins at night. We’ll be monitored by our instructors, who will wear night vision goggles with thermal capabilities, keeping an eye on us. They need to make sure we’re not cheating or lost.
As everyone unloads, we stand and wait for the following order. I find Sergeant Booker and Slater engaged in a conversation with the other instructors by a truck, but the monster everyone hides from is absent.
My muscles relax when I realize he isn’t here after continuing to search every corner.
Good .
I ate an MRE for lunch. The entire time I chewed on the beef stew, I pictured a mean, double-cheese hamburger with bacon instead. Booker and Slater have been barking out orders since we arrived. We have a small window to relax, so I take Robert’s invitation to accompany him while he smokes.
“Fuck, I struggle with Land Nav,” Roberts says while taking a drag of his cigarette. He holds up his pack of Camel Crush and offers me one.
I shake my head.
“Don’t smoke?”
“No.”
“I can’t seem to quit.” He shrugs.
The air shifts as clouds pass by, hiding the sun. The winds turn cooler, and a shiver runs down my spine. I look up at the sky, expecting to see signs of a rainstorm, but it’s just cloudier than usual. Why did the lively aura change quickly?
But then someone’s terrifying, intimidating, familiar shadow hovers over all of us, and everyone straightens their spines. I know this feeling all too well. A soul-sucking demonic presence is here stealing our confidence.
He’s here .
Turning around, I meet Instructor Beast’s towering figure.
He stands straight with his arms crossed against his chest, sand boots planted to the ground, wearing the same handsome, hardass, mean expression.
His signature, all black aviators sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose.
He sweeps all of us, but his stare lingers a second more when he gets to me.
“What the fuck are you guys standing around for? Get everything you’ll need. It’s going to be a looong night,” he singsongs cruelly.
Everyone files through to a table where all of the instructors are standing by.
I grab everything I need: a GPS device that allows our instructors to track our exact location in case we get lost, a protractor, three MREs, and emergency flares.
I’m confident I have everything, so I take three steps away when a sinking sensation drills inside my stomach. I forgot to grab the map.
Pivoting on my foot, the small branches underneath it break as I hurry back, but Beast swarms me.
I freeze, my lungs constricting when he gets in front of me.
He’s blocking my path to the map. It’s right beside me, taunting me, but there’s a thick, monstrous wall in front of it, casting a deadly glare, purposefully.
He’s singling me out.
No, no, no.
“Oh, you want the map?” He clenches his jaw.
Meeting his gaze, I control my pounding heart and suck in a breath. We all need the map to pass.
“Yes, Master Sergeant.”
“You’ll have to buy it.”
My heart drops.
I fucked up .
He’s got me .
I only took a few steps away when I realized my error, and he’s punishing me for it. What did I expect? He never shows mercy to anyone—especially me.
“One thousand ruck-sack burpees is a fair exchange.”
Crap .
My shoulders deflate.
Booker cuts in, sauntering over to Master Sergeant.
“Beast. It’s going to take her four hours,” he says in a low voice, attempting not to draw any attention from students, but I can still hear him.
He runs his hand over his mustache while he has his back to me, but Beast keeps his vision zeroed in on my face.
I remain in the position of attention, deadpanning.
Master Sergeant glances at his digital watch, lifting his left wrist and pursing his lips nonchalantly.
“Well then, she’d better get started.” He steps closer to my face, looking down at me like I’m a bug he wants to squash underneath his boot. “Or would you like to quit, Isla?” His voice deepens.
The mask I’ve trained myself to wear when he’s around is on and not going anywhere, even though I’m trembling on the inside. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek and off my chin when I shake my head.
“I don’t quit, Master Sergeant.”
He clicks his tongue, pissed off, and stares at me hard for what feels like hours.
He wants me to fold. He wants me gone so bad, and I’m not giving it to him.
I can feel the attention of every single instructor and student on us.
I know most of them are hoping I’ll take it back, give him the finger, and walk away from the course for good, but this gives me another opportunity to prove why I belong here.
“Begin,” he huffs.
His hands fall to his side as he stalks away. His footsteps thunder as he leaves. The tension between us is so palpable I feel it in my bones.
First, he let me drown. Now? Four hours of burpees with a fifty-pound rucksack on? He really does want me to die or get really fucking close.