Page 41 of The Devil's Trials
“Relax,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m messing with you. I get it. We’re not exactly friends, and I’m sure you have plenty you’d rather talk to, which is fine.”
“Just Harper, really,”
He nods. “Have you spoken to her much since you got here?”
“Uh, well, I called her the other night. After, um, you know.”
“Do I?” he asks. “I think you need to refresh my memory.”
“Can you not be an ass about this? Please?” I feel the weight of his gaze as he glances over at me, though I don’t meet it. I keep my eyes trained forward, watching the skyscrapers turn into shorter, more industrial buildings spaced further apart.
“Sorry.” His attention returns to the road. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.”
“Really?” The relief in my voice is almost embarrassing.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you think it would be better to forget it happened then we will. Is that what you want?”
My throat suddenly feels tight, and I press my lips together as I consider how to respond. Aside from the initial comment, Noah is being incredibly considerate about the whole thing. “Honestly, I don’t know. I wasn’t in a good headspace that night and I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Noah nods. “I understand. So we leave it in the past and focus on your training. Sound good?”
“I don’t…” I trail off, fumbling for the right words. “How are you being so reasonable about this?”
He turns onto the private road leading to Ballard. “It’s simple. Your success here is more important than how I might feel about our kiss.”
My eyes widen.How he feels?“I’m not sure what to say.”
“I guess there’s a first for everything,” he teases.
Same old Noah.
I scowl halfheartedly, though his quip does make me feel a bit better. “Ha-ha. So funny.” Letting loose a breath, my tone is sincere when I say, “Thank you.”
“You bet.” He drums his thumbs against the steering wheel.
The rest of the drive to Ballard is quiet. We go through the security checkpoint, and Noah waves to the guard at the gate and drives through as it opens.
After we park in Noah’s spot, instead of going into the private training room, he guides us into the main building through the front entrance.
This place was custom built by the organization to be a training facility, so we’re met with a security checkpoint the minute we walk through sliding doors. Noah flashes his badge at the hunter behind the desk.
We walk through a set of metal detectors, and Noah swipes his badge at another door. There’s a buzzing sound, and then it slides open, granting us access deeper into the building.
I follow Noah, my pulse ticking unevenly as my eyes dart around. There’s not much to see past the plain gray walls and shiny linoleum floors. It doesn’t smell like anything—not like a gym or an office building. I get the occasional whiff of Noah’s cologne, and weirdly, it brings me a bit of comfort, though I have little energy to explore that.
The training facility I started at in Seattle was much smaller than this. The time I spent there was in classes on one side of the facility. I never made it to the physical portion of hunter training, which is precisely why it’s going to kick my ass now.
We come to a fork in the hallway, and I follow Noah down another corridor. There are solid black metal doors on either side with placards on each—offices, I think—and past them is yet another door.
Noah taps his badge against the panel beside it, and the door slides open, revealing a room that looks like what we trained in before, but easily three times the size.
Cardio machines and weight racks line the perimeter of the room, leaving the middle a wide-open space with mats. Small groups of peoplemingle around the space, while a few others are warming up on the treadmills and stationary bikes. There’s a section of hooks in the wall adjacent to the doors, so I hang up my jacket and bag, then head over to the treadmill at the end of the row to warm up.
Nerves coil tightly in my stomach as I feel the weight of eyes on me, and I try to ignore them and focus on the display screen of the treadmill as I increase the speed to a light jog. I knew my first group class would be a challenge for my anxiety, and I cling to knowing it’ll only be an hour as if it’s a life raft.
Noah walks around the room and says good morning to the trainees before jumping on one of the bikes himself. Part of me wants to glance around the room, but my apprehension gets the best of me and I keep my eyes forward until I finish my warm-up.
When Noah calls everyone to the center of the room, I keep my eyes on him, afraid the other trainees are going to judge me for being here. I shouldn’t assume they know who I am, but I’ve gotten so used to being the black sheep of the Morgan family. The well-known disappointment within the organization.
