Morning came too fast.
I barely remembered falling asleep.
One moment I was walking back through the bunker, the weight of the night still clinging to me… the next, I was waking up to the familiar noise of metal, voices, and movement.
Boots hitting concrete. Lockers slamming. Low conversations echoing through the sleeping quarters.
Reality again.
I blinked slowly, staring up at the underside of the bunk above me, letting my mind catch up with my body.
And then—
It hit me.
The gym.
The fight.
Xavier.
My jaw tightened slightly as the memory replayed itself far too clearly.
His hands catching me.
The way he looked under those lights.
The way his voice sounded when he finally spoke to me.
Would you dare?
I exhaled quietly, dragging a hand over my face.
And then… the moment.
The tear in my dress.
The way he'd looked at me.
The way he'd lost focus.
A small, almost involuntary smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
That was new.
Dangerous, too.
I shifted on the bunk, staring at the ceiling again.
It wasn't just the fight.
It was him.
There was something about Xavier that didn't sit right—and yet, it pulled at me anyway. The silence. The control. The way he watched everything like he was always ten steps ahead.
Like nothing ever got past him.
Except…
Last night, it had.
And I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Which was a problem.
A big one.
"Okay," Annelise's voice cut through my thoughts, way too sharp for this early in the morning. "You disappeared last night."
I groaned softly, turning my head toward her.
She was already awake, sitting on the edge of her bunk, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like she'd been waiting.
"I went to sleep," I muttered.
"Liar."
I huffed a breath. "I did. Eventually."
Her eyes narrowed. "Where were you before that?"
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
"Oh my god," she said, leaning forward. "You did disappear. With who?"
"No one."
"Gemini—"
I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bunk. "Drop it."
She didn't.
Of course she didn't.
"You were with someone," she pressed, watching me carefully. "Who?"
I stood, grabbing my gear just to avoid looking at her.
And that's when it happened.
My gaze shifted.
Across the room.
To the row of bunks where the new arrivals had been placed.
My eyes landed on one in particular.
Xavier's.
Empty.
I stilled for half a second.
Annelise noticed immediately.
Her expression changed—slowly, knowingly.
"Oh," she said softly.
I turned away too quickly. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Didn't say it did."
But the look on her face said everything.
I grabbed my clothes, already heading toward the wash area. "We've got training."
"Yeah," she called after me, voice teasing now, "you might need it."
I didn't respond.
But I could feel her grin from across the room.
—
By the time I was ready, the bunker had fully come alive.
Fighters were already moving toward the exit, weapons slung over shoulders, voices sharper now. Focused.
Routine.
I tied the final strap of my vest, checking my gear out of habit before heading out.
Whatever last night had been—
It didn't matter now.
Out here, nothing did except survival.
Still…
As I stepped outside into the open air, my eyes scanned the training field automatically.
And found him.
Of course they did.
Xavier stood near the center of the field, arms relaxed at his sides, posture straight, presence impossible to miss. Even in a crowd of trained fighters, he stood out.
Not just because of how he looked—
But because of how he carried himself.
Controlled.
Commanding.
Like he belonged in charge, whether anyone said it out loud or not.
I forced my attention away, walking toward Marcus and Alex instead.
"Morning," Marcus said, nodding at me.
"Ready for round two?" Alex added with a grin.
I smirked faintly. "You survived yesterday. That's a good start."
"Barely," he admitted. "I'm still sore."
"Good," I said. "Means you're learning."
He laughed.
I shifted my weight slightly—
And then felt it.
That gaze.
I didn't need to look to know.
But I did anyway.
Xavier.
Already watching me.
Of course he was.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then, almost without thinking—
I gave him a small smile.
Subtle.
Barely there.
His response?
A nod.
Nothing more.
But somehow…
It was enough.
"Alright," a voice cut through the air.
Everyone turned.
Xavier stepped forward.
Not Dave.
Xavier.
That alone was enough to shift the mood.
The field quieted almost instantly.
Even the more experienced fighters straightened slightly.
He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't need to.
"We train today," he said simply. "Not like yesterday."
A pause.
His eyes swept over the group.
Assessing.
Calculating.
"You're not a team yet."
No hesitation.
No sugarcoating.
"You're individuals trying to survive together."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
He didn't care.
"That gets you killed."
Silence.
"Pair up," he ordered.
Just like that.
No explanation.
No wasted time.
The group moved quickly, people choosing partners instinctively. Marcus paired with Ted. Alex with Oliver. Sophie with Matt.
I stayed where I was.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because something told me—
He wasn't done.
And I was right.
One by one, the pairs formed.
Until—
It was just me.
I crossed my arms slightly, raising an eyebrow.
"Really?" I muttered under my breath.
He walked toward me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Every step measured.
And suddenly, it felt like everyone else had faded into the background.
"Problem?" I asked as he stopped in front of me.
Up close, his presence was worse.
Stronger.
Harder to ignore.
"You're last," he said.
I tilted my head. "Not by accident."
A faint pause.
Then—
"No."
Of course not.
I let out a small breath through my nose. "So who am I stuck with?"
His gaze didn't waver.
"You're not."
A beat.
Then—
"You're with me."
There it was.
I felt something tighten in my chest—and I hated that I did.
I masked it quickly, raising an eyebrow. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
I stepped a little closer, just enough to test him. "You already get distracted."
His jaw shifted slightly.
There it was again.
That tiny crack.
"You think that happens twice?" he asked quietly.
I smirked. "Depends what I'm wearing."
A pause.
Longer this time.
His eyes flicked over me—quick, controlled—but not entirely unaffected.
Then back to my face.
"Focus," he said.
But his voice was lower now.
I almost laughed.
"Make me."
And just like that—
We moved.
He didn't wait this time.
Didn't test.
He came straight at me—fast, controlled, precise.
I barely had time to react.
I blocked the first strike, stepping back, adjusting my stance immediately. He didn't let up. Every movement was sharper than last night. Cleaner.
No hesitation.
No distraction.
Good.
I pushed back harder, matching his pace, forcing him to adjust to me instead.
We circled, strikes landing, blocking, redirecting—
This wasn't practice.
This was pressure.
Testing limits.
Pushing boundaries.
I went low—
He countered instantly.
Too fast.
His hand caught my arm, twisting just enough to throw me off balance—
But I recovered.
Barely.
"Better," he said.
Not praise.
Acknowledgment.
I stepped in again, faster this time—
He met me halfway.
Too close.
His hand caught my wrist again—
But this time, I didn't let him control it.
I twisted out of his grip, stepping into him instead, forcing him back a fraction—
A reaction.
Small.
But real.
"Not predictable," I said under my breath.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"No," he agreed.
For a moment, everything slowed.
The noise around us faded.
It was just us again.
Like last night.
Tension building with every movement.
Every glance.
Every second we stayed too close.
His hand came up again, stopping just short of contact this time—
A warning.
Or a test.
"Still holding back," he said quietly.
I met his gaze. "So are you."
A pause.
Then—
"Not anymore."
The shift was immediate.
His next move was faster.
Stronger.
Forcing me to react instead of think—
And I did.
Every instinct kicked in, every lesson, every fight I'd survived—
Meeting him head-on.
Step for step.
Strike for strike.
Neither of us backing down.
Not even a little.
And somewhere in the middle of it—
I realized something.
This wasn't just training.
This was something else entirely.
A challenge.
A pull.
A line neither of us was willing to step away from.
And the worst part?
I didn't want to.
Neither did he.
I could see it in his eyes.
That same intensity.
That same awareness.
Locked on me.
Only me.
"Careful," I said, breath slightly uneven now. "You're starting to enjoy this."
A faint pause.
Then—
"I already do."
The words hit harder than they should have.
And before I could respond—
He moved again.
And I followed.
Because whatever this was—
It was far from over.