Page 68 of Pretty When She Breaks
“Is anyone going to find us?” I asked as we walked into the old training room. Hugo was already here, unrestrained.
“Uh, probably not,” Casey said. “No one comes down here.”
I nodded. It was a risk, but one we’d have to take. I moved over and unlocked Ocean’s wrists. “Ocean, this is Hugo. He’s my brother’s old mentor. He’s going to be training you.”
Ocean glanced back at me, then at Hugo. “No offence,” he said. “But if I’m going to be feral every fight, what’s the point of training?”
Hugo gave a low, rough chuckle. “Your body will remember,” he said. “You do something enough times, and it’ll be there when you need it. You ever fought before this, boy?”
Ocean shook his head. “Wasn’t really my thing.”
I sat down on the bench as Hugo started going through basic stances with Ocean, correcting his posture. They were silent, going through the motions over and over, apart from when Hugo occasionally told Ocean to go faster.
“They’ll put you in tonight,” Hugo said after a while. “Against the weakest of us. See what you’re made of.”
“I’m not a fighter,” Ocean said, and I saw a flicker of fear on his face for the first time.
“Your aura’s not bad.” Hugo grunted. “Everyone’s a fighter once rut rage starts blazing through their blood.”
“Does it hurt?” Ocean asked.
Hugo nodded, lips set in a thin line.
“Will I be in control at all?”
“It’s a rut, kid,” Hugo said. “Shorter. More intense. But otherwise, the same rules.”
“Then I’ll remember it,” Ocean said, grimly.
The ball of fear that had settled low in my chest had stabilized by the time Hugo started to take him through strikes. They were both sweating now, lost in the rhythm of the movement. Ocean had taken off his shirt, and instead of admiring his muscles, this time I looked at his smooth, unmarked skin. He didn’t have any bruises or scars that I could see. Today would be the last day it would be like this.
I looked away.
I managed to avoid speaking to him through the training and on the way back to his cells. As I turned the lock on his cage, his hand came through the bar and rested on mine. I looked up at him and found him examining me.
“Why don’t you hate me?” I asked.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” he said finally.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I replied, a lump forming in my throat.
He shook his head, brow furrowing. “No, Isawyou, up there. When our eyes met. You were wearing a mask all evening with everyone else, but in that moment, I saw you, Laurel. I’m glad I get to see you. The real you.”
“I don’t even know who that is,” I whispered to him.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling at me. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about…what Finch did. I’m seriously going to strangle him when I get out of here. I don’t care what his reasons are, he never should have bonded you like that.”
I searched his eyes and found only sincerity. “Your pack isn’t the worst thing I have to deal with right now.”
His hand did find mine again, and he tugged me closer. I let him, and he reached up to brush his fingers against my cheek. “You’re my silver lining,” he told me, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smile that made my breath catch. “I don’t regret trying to protect you, but I should have been smarter. I can’t do much for you in here.”
“Just stay alive,” I told him. “Please. That’s enough.”
He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “It’s a promise, then.”
THIRTY-FIVE
FINCH
