Page 53 of Dragon Unleashed

His grin turns predatory instantly and he pins me with a growl.

But I still haven’t told him who I am.

Chapter Twenty-four: Lorelei

I had so many ideas for how I could tell Chano my secret. And I backed out, every damn time. This whole week has been one cop-out after another. I even went on Chano’s stupid early morning run, thinking we could pause at the farthest point, and I’d just blurt it out, far away from where anyone could hear the fallout. But the moment came and went. Now I’m plastered in mud and sweat, sitting across from him in the cafeteria, and I can’t even enjoy my coffee for the guilt.

“There you are, Miss Bal. Training starts early today. Quick smart.”

I start. Where the hairy hell did Silas come from?

“You’ve not been practicing,” he says. “What happened to being aware at all times? At least Mr. Maverik spotted me coming.”

Chano smirks, throwing a sly wink in my direction before pushing to his feet. “C’mon then, chica, let’s do this.”

“Not you today, son,” Silas says as Chano towers over him. “Just the girl.”

Chano’s face darkens. I shrug. It’s not like I have much control over this. And to be honest, a few hours not thinking about Chano might be a good thing.

“Your resolve to spend time together lasted long,” he mutters.

“Chano!”

He swoops down and plants a sloppy kiss on my forehead. “I’m teasing. Raff has some leads from NewShift for our thesis that I need to follow up.” He turns, addressing Silas over his shoulder as he saunters off. “Don’t be making her better than me, old man.”

Silas scowls, but the corner of his mouth twitches. HelikesChano. None of the professors like Chano. Afraid of him, maybe, but like him? Nope.

Silas hustles me toward one of the giant gymnasiums, leaving me no time to change. I shove the last of the deliciously flaky pastry into my mouth as I step inside the gym and grind to a halt.

There are people here. Not students. Not professors. And they don’t look like bodyguards either. Each wears a pair of dark green pants and a plain black T-shirt. It would look casual if they weren’t all in identical kit. There’s nothing casual about the belts slung around their hips. A magic Taser, a knife, and…I don’t recognize the rest, but it’s equally sinister. I step back, straight into Silas. Hand in the small of my back, he shoves.

“This is Lorelei Bal. Of all Farrell’s allegiance, she’s had the least training. This weekend, we start to remedy that.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” they chorus.

I glower at Silas. I’m the weak link, I get it. Even Naeve has more of a grasp on politics and military tactics than I do. I scuff my toe on the floor. I fight better than her though.

And then it begins.

I pelt through the forest, ducking blasts of fire and leaping fallen logs. My lungs scream and my legs are lumps of lead, begging me to stop. But I’m nearly there. The wooden lookouttower with the flag I’m meant to capture is so close. I can see the cloth fluttering in the wind. A shock wave rips through the earth, sending rubble and debris into the air. Crouching, I throw up a shield of aether.Oh shit.That’s a lot of rock. My arms tremble with the effort of holding it back from crushing me to death.

Mere seconds before my shield cracks the rumbling stops. The dust settles and I push myself to my feet and into a dead sprint. All around the sides of the clearing, soldiers emerge from the undergrowth. Pushing forward, I count them. Five. I’ve done it. They’re all too damn far away to do anything now.

I’ve won.

Crowing in triumph, I push my aching muscles harder, smacking straight into a broad, muscular chest. Arms fasten around me, one across my neck, and I panic, spitting and clawing. The arms tighten, squeezing the air out of me. All the soldiers are accounted for. This isn’t part of the exercise.

“Stand down, Farrell Cuelebre,” Silas says, his sharp voice piercing my alarm.Farrell?“This is a training exercise. One you interrupted.”

The tension drains from my muscles.

“Let me go, asshole!” I hiss.

The soldiers surround us, and Farrell releases me, shoving me away from him. A soldier catches my arm, steadying me. I give him a small nod before spinning to face Farrell.

“You little bitch!” he screams, his face contorted in rage. “You conniving little bitch!”

I take an involuntary step back. This isn’t the cold, shut-off version of Farrell I know. This isn’t even his terrifying nuclear winter anger. This is a whole new level. His hands are balled into fists and he’s shaking. The men around me drop to one knee, but Silas steps forward, shielding me.

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