Page 25 of A Shadow of Betrayal

“Come on,” Jordan snaps, letting his hand fall from my mouth and grabbing my arm, yanking me to follow him.

“You had better listen to him, Ranger Smith. I would hate to punish the both of you for your failures or lack of respect,” Lennox warns, a threatening smile breaking over his face before he turns and waltzes back over to where Monroe is standing.

THIRTEEN

Meyer

“I’m going to die,” I gasp, my sides burning as I try to keep up with Jordan, who looks at me with a frown. “This is what kills me,” I groan, trying to get my lungs to take in more life-giving oxygen.

“We’ve only gone nine laps,” he says, worry lacing his tone as I try to keep running. My feet ache from running in shoes with zero support that are also soaking wet, and my boobs are bouncing so much that they ache in my cheap Walmart bra.

“How many laps around the track are a mile?” I ask between pants, one hand on my waist where a stitch has formed and the other supporting the girls so they don't try to bitch slap me in the face.

“Three. You’ve only gone a little over three miles. We still have two more miles to go,” Jordan says, running next to me without panting or even having the decency to look a little tired. I toss a look over my shoulder as we round the track, finding Lennox’s amused green eyes on me, and I scowl.

Catching my eye, Lennox's smirk grows, and he leans over to talk to the guy who still has the hood covering his face, the black material of his cloak shredded at the bottom, reminding me of one of the creepy dementors from the Harry Potter books. Cloak guy nods his agreement, and I have the urge to walk over and pull the hood of his cloak back to reveal the face that resides under it.

“Who’s that?” I ask, nodding to the men while trying to keep up with Jordan.

“Who?” Jordan asks, looking toward Lennox before frowning. “Monroe?” he asks, looking at the happy-looking redhead laughing at whatever Lennox just said. A few more Bloodline groups are trickling into the training room now that the sun has fully risen, and there are more Umbra Hunters in black leather and cloaks standing at the center of the room conversing.

“No, the one with the hood covering his face?” I mutter while trying to control my breathing, so I don't look like a fish out of water.

“Razar?” Jordan asks, his voice falling to a whisper and it’s almost like the man knows we are talking about him; his head lifts, the shadows covering his face as he looks at us. “Fuck, he’s creepy as hell,” Jordan whispers, immediately looking away from the man. “Dude, don't stare at him. He’ll come over and kill us or something,” Jordan hisses when he looks down, finding me still staring at the man.

I snort and finally pull my eyes away from the Umbra Hunter to look up at Jordan. “Kill us?” I ask in amusement, grinning at his dramatics. When he doesn't laugh back, my smile fades, and I look back at the hooded man who has turned his back on us. “Wait, can they kill us?” I ask, panicking a little at the thought.

Holy freaking crap! Why hadn’t I thought to ask that question before now?

“I—no?” Jordan says, the last word more of a question than anything else, and I gape at him in response. Jordan rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “No, they can’t kill us. But... Fuck, I don’t know. There are some rumors about that particular Regalis brother that make me want to stay the hell away from him.”

“What rumors?”

“Rumors that have missing people attached to them,” Jordan whispers, his hand moving to my lower back as he gently pushes me toward the inside of the track so that the group of people running past us can get by.

“Really?” My interest piques, and I purse my lips, wanting to know more. I toss another look from the corner of my eye, this time as we circle the other part of the track and find Lennox staring at me; his shoulders pulled back as he radiates fury that I can feel from here. Great, what’s pissed him off this time?

“That Viking is a damn sadist,” I growl out, trying to ignore the men still standing in the center of the room; especially the one watching us as he reclines on his comfy chair next to the other two men.

“Viking?” Jordan asks in confusion, and I nod, subtly gesturing over to Lennox.

“Him! Viking man with the beard and pretty muscles,” I gasp, groaning as the stitch in my side spasms, and I almost crumple over. Jordan laughs, keeping his hand on my back to help me stay upright while looking over his shoulder at Lennox, and he nods.

“Yeah, I guess he does have pretty muscles. But why is he glaring at me like that? Shit, I think a part of my soul just died from his glare.”

“Hey, guys!” someone shouts behind me, startling both of us, and I watch Jordan’s face brighten when Theo runs up to my side.

“Hey, dude,” Jordan says, reaching over my head and giving Theo a fist bump. “Hi, Angry Girl!” Theo sings, slinging his arm around my shoulders and trapping me between them.

“Angry girl? Like from the Thor movies?” Jordan asks, arching a brow at Theo, who grins.

“Nah, Meyer here likes to get angry and threaten a good kick in the balls if you touch her without her permission. And don’t even think about throwing her over your shoulder,” he adds, rubbing at his hip and grimacing as if remembering where I bit him. “I’m pretty sure I got lucky walking away with both of my balls bruise free. Which… apparently, Umbra Regalis didn't get so lucky. Mom told me what happened yesterday. No wonder he was so mad at you last night. I don't think I know someone brave enough to knee Lennox Regalis in the balls like that.”

“What!? You kneed our Senior in the balls?” Jordan shouts, earning several curious looks as people jog by.

“Would you shut up?” I hiss, darting a look around us before making sure Lennox is far enough away that he didn't hear any of that. “He scared me, and I didn’t realize who it was. I didn't purposely knee him in the balls. Well, I did, but not because it was him. I was defending myself,” I explain, making Jordan shake his head in shock.

“Oh, you are so dead. Umbra Regalis holds a grudge like no other. Once, a Ranger dropped some food on his shoe, and the guy made him scrub the entire floor with a small hand brush,” he whispers in horror, then his eyes widen, and he curses under his breath. “Fuck, I'm so screwed! Your training is my responsibility. Damn, Meyer, why’d you have to do that?” he grumbles, and I shrug.

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