Page 17 of Defiant Beta

“The lesson is over,” he declares before I can get payback.

The girls set down their foils and masks and head for the changing rooms, though not before Ms. Huffman, who beats them all out of the room.

“Not you,” the fencing instructor calls out, pointing at me.

The wellness center is pure luxury. As they leave, the girls with free periods are deciding between a swim in the Olympic-sized pool or time in the sauna. I could use a relaxing hour in the sauna. It might help me sweat out all this rage.

As the door slams shut behind the last of the girls, my fencing instructor points at the foils and masks on the floor. “Clear those away.”

I blink at him. “But I’m a student here. We don’t?—”

“You do as you’re told,” he interrupts coldly.

“But I?—”

He grips my wrist and leans in to speak directly into my ear. “Do you know what happens to little girls who get involved in things they don’t understand?”

My heart races, but I push my fear down and pull at my arm. “Let me go.”

His grip tightens. “One of these things isn’t like the other.”

I go cold at his soft whisper. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You knowexactlywhat I mean. Whatever stupid reason you’re here, playing pretend ends today. If you’re not careful, you won’t survive it.”

I tear my arm free and walk away, back straight. My heart is in my throat, and I’m cold all over.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to.

He knows I’m not an omega, and I have no fucking clue what to do about it. Leave? Stay? Go back and run him through with a foil so he doesn’t spread my secret far and wide?

As I exit the gym, River beckons me to the door leading to the swimming pool. I spend the next thirty minutes floating in the pool with the other girls, puzzling over what to do.

Later, we pass the fitness center on the way out of the changing rooms, and there’s no sign of him—just the foils on the floor where the girls left them.

“Delilah? Are you coming?” River asks, distracting me.

“I’m not hungry. Go to lunch without me. I have something else I want to do.”

She smiles as she leaves. “Okay, don’t be late to ballroom dancing, okay?”

Back in the changing room, I put on my leggings and sports bra. Chilly from the swim, I pull a hoodie over my head on my way out.

In the fitness center, I grab a foil from the mat and head for the wall of mirrors.

I spent most of the fencing lesson picking my weapon—and myself—from the floor. But I try to remember how that asshole held his foil, the way he stood, and how he slashed out with his weapon to knock mine out of my hand.

I lift my weapon and turn to study my form in the mirror. “No. He was straighter.”

I stiffen my spine, and with slow, careful strokes, imagine I’m knocking a foil out ofhishand.

Over and over.

And when my wrist is sore, and I’m positive I’m going to be late for my next class, I change hands and try with my left instead.

I flinch at the sound of a door slamming. Turning around, I scowl.

Him.

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