Page 11 of Revenge (Warriors of the Drexian Academy #6)

Chapter

Eleven

Sasha

I leaned back on the bench, nursing a glass of something that tasted like liquid fire and watching the Drexian cards being tossed on the wooden table. The staff dining room was empty, save for one long table Ariana and her friends crowded around as they played the complicated game.

“I learned everything I know from Tivek,” Fiona said with a wicked grin, laying down another card with theatrical flair and winking at the Drexian security chief. “He taught me specifically so I could beat you, darling.”

Vyk’s answering laugh was warm and genuine, completely at odds with his intimidating facade. “You should ask him for more lessons, because I’m about to clean you out.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shot back, her eyes glinting.

The easy banter between them made my cheeks warm as I remembered being trapped behind Vyk’s coats just hours earlier, listening to sounds that were definitely not meant for an audience. I took another sip of my drink and tried to push that mortifying memory aside.

Around the table, the other couples had settled into their own comfortable rhythms. Volten and Ariana were technically still playing, but they were more interested in sitting close enough that their thighs touched, occasionally whispering to each other in a way that suggested the cards were secondary to simply being together.

Jess had already folded but remained at the table, leaning close to Morgan as they compared notes about strategy.

Their friendship was easy, the kind I’d always envied but never seemed to cultivate myself.

I’d been too focused on advancement and too competitive to let my guard down enough for female friendship.

Kann and Britta had both folded early and were now deep in conversation about some mechanical modification to the academy’s holochambers, their discussion punctuated by bursts of laughter.

Tivek sat beside Morgan, and I studied the intense Drexian who was so outwardly different from his brother.

His spine was straighter, his expression was more focused, and he spared his surprisingly warm smiles for Morgan.

I still couldn’t reconcile that he was merely the admiral’s adjunct, but Drexian hierarchy was not my area of expertise.

And then there was Deklyn. I deliberately avoided looking at him, though I could feel his gaze on me.

He’d folded early and was now rooting for his brother with occasional commentary that showed he understood the game far better than his casual attitude suggested.

Whenever I glimpsed him from the corner of my eye, I recalled how he had pressed against me in Vyk’s office, the warmth of his breath on my ear, and the solid strength of his arm around my waist.

The memory made my pulse skip in ways that were definitely not helpful.

“Does the admiral ever join these games?” I asked partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to distract myself from thoughts of Deklyn’s muscular arms.

“Admiral Zoran?” Vyk shook his head with a slight smile. “He’s never been much for cards.”

“He doesn’t want his staff to feel like they need to stand on ceremony,” Tivek said.

“We invited him and Noora tonight,” Kann added. “After the rescue mission and everything, we didn’t want to leave him out.”

“They would have come,” Fiona said, discarding another card, “but Noora had already planned something special for them. A private dinner.”

I felt my pulse quicken despite my efforts to appear casually interested. “That’s sweet. Is there a special dining room for occasions like that?”

Kann laughed, the sound warm and slightly slurred. “Nothing so fancy as that. They’re probably dining in their quarters. The admiral has the largest suite in the place.”

Fiona nodded. “When I ran into Noora earlier, she said it was going to be in their quarters.”

My heart pounded traitorously. If Admiral Zoran was having a private dinner with his wife in their quarters, that meant he wouldn’t be anywhere near his office. And with Tivek here playing cards, there was no chance of the adjunct being there either.

This was my chance. My real chance, not the impulsive disaster from earlier today.

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the fear of being trapped behind those coats, the way Deklyn had looked at me afterward like I was a reckless child who couldn’t be trusted. But this was different. This time I was sure I wouldn’t get caught.

The game continued around me, the stakes apparently rising as more players folded and the pot grew larger. I waited until it was down to just Vyk and Tivek, their focus completely absorbed by the cards in their hands.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” I said with a carefully manufactured yawn, leaning over to whisper to Ariana. “It’s been a long day.”

She turned to study my face with concern. “You look tired. You should probably get more sleep since you’re still recovering.”

I tried not to bristle at the implication that I wasn’t back to full strength, even though she was probably right.

The stress of captivity combined with my current preoccupation with revenge wasn’t exactly conducive to restful sleep.

Most nights I lay awake staring at the ceiling, alternating between nightmares about Kronock interrogation and fantasies about confronting whoever had abandoned me.

“Good night, everyone,” I said, pushing back from the table and doing my best to avoid Deklyn’s gaze as I slipped from the room.

The moment I was out of sight, I quickened my pace, running on my toes as I navigated the corridors toward the administrative wing.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I approached the heavy wooden door marked with Admiral Zoran’s nameplate.

This was it. Inside that office would be the records I needed, the proof of who had decided to abandon me and why.

I placed my palm against the sensor panel beside the door and waited for the familiar click of disengaging locks.

Nothing happened.

The panel remained dark, unresponsive to my touch. I groaned softly and tried again, pressing my hand more firmly against the surface. Still nothing.

Of course, the admiral’s office would have higher security protocols than a standard staff door. I should have expected that. But how was I supposed to hot-wire a Drexian access panel?

I was still staring at the unresponsive panel when a large hand reached over my shoulder and pressed against the sensor. The door slid open with its characteristic whisper, revealing the darkened interior of the admiral’s office.

Deklyn’s voice came from directly behind me, low and dangerous in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t make me regret this.”