Page 74 of Promises in the Dark

“Capt. wants to see you,” he said, and I groaned, not wanting to deal with any more bullshit.

My day just kept getting better and better.

“I’m sure he does.”

Pyro chuckled, but it was more out of nerves than amusement. “He said it’s important. Something about a mission.”

He stayed annoyingly calm, like none of this bullshit fazed him. And that pissed me off more. How the hell was he always so calm? Like the world could burn down around him, and he’d just stand there, smirking. Meanwhile, I was over here losing my fucking mind, bleeding all over the place, and he’s as cool as ice.

I took a deep breath, trying to stand up, but my legs weren’t having any of it.

“Give me a minute,” I croaked, gasping for air as I tried to pull myself up from the floor.

Pyro nodded, his eyes never leaving the damage I’d done to myself.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rogue?”

I looked down, seeing the blood. It was splashed all over the bag, drizzled onto the floor from my fists, and streaked down my t-shirt. But instead of feeling like a failure, I felt... proud. Yeah, proud of that mess. A twisted sense of accomplishment that I’ve beaten something worth beating.

“Nothing, man,” I barked, wiping my bloody knuckles on my pants, leaving red streaks behind. “Just working out the kinks. You should try it sometime.”

Pyro just shook his head, his eyes locked on the floor, like he didn’t want to deal with my shit. “Come on,” he sighed, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

And just like that, I let out a grunt, pushing myself up off the floor and following him out of the room. Yeah, there was something wrong with me. I knew it. But fuck if I was gonna admit it to anyone else.

Chapter 21

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fucking hell.

All I wanted was to be out there, pounding that bag until my knuckles were raw, bleeding, and I could finally stop thinking. Or better yet, digging into the investigation of my teammate’s deaths, trying to unravel the goddamn mess that had become our unit.

What Ireallywanted? I wanted to grab that asshole by the throat and beat the living shit out of him. Make him pay for every tear Red shed, every bruise he left on her.

But I couldn’t. I had to sit there, play nice, act civil—pretend like I gave two shits about his worthless, miserable ass. And all the while, the urge to rip him apart was burning through me like a goddamn wildfire.

Red? She looked genuinely uncomfortable, caught between her ex’s manipulative charm and the intense hatred I was throwing his way with my eyes. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. The way he still leered at her, like he had some kind of claim over her. Piece of shit.

She was holding it together—barely. I could see it in the tight way she stood, the way she couldn’t even look at him directly. And when she did, there was that flicker of fear, like he still had some power over her, some way of making her life a living hell. It made me fucking sick.

And me? I was boiling inside, barely keeping a lid on it. All I wanted was to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his eyes popped out of his skull.

Then the fucker smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over hischest, and said something cocksure about how we were all ‘friends’ here.

Friends?

I wanted to reach across Red and punch him so hard his teeth rattle. As I glared daggers at that piece of shit, he was trying to maintain a smile, pretending he wasn’t the toxic waste of humanity he was.

I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down, because if I didn’t, I’d end up snapping his neck in front of everyone. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Fuck Zen. I needed a drink, not meditation.

Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths.

The captain cleared his throat, and everyone turned their attention back to him.

“Gentlemen and Miss Davis,” he started, his voice booming in the small space, “I’ve got a mission for all of you,” he announced. “You’re heading to the south of Afghanistan. There it’s a conflict-ridden area, and you’ll be providing medical and humanitarian assistance.”

I rolled my eyes. A team mission—withhimon board? Jesus Christ.

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