Page 56 of The Pretty Savage

The truth was, I wasn't okay.

I was terrified out of my mind, not because I thought he would kill me, but because I couldn't recognize the monster that was choking me. I couldn't recognize the man in front of me, and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. I started connecting him with warm feelings, with safety, no matter how insane that sounded. But when you lived the life I did, many things stopped sounding insane, even though they were.

I did what I promised myself I never would—I was falling for another monster, and there was no scenario where it would end up well.

"I'm here if you need to talk," Yolanda murmured, squeezing my hand, just when the bang of the door crashed through the massive hall we were in, alerting us of the arrival of what would no doubt be our instructor. The whispers of who it could be washed over the group the moment I stepped inside, but everyone was as clueless as I was.

I was about to thank Yolanda for her words, when my eyes connected with stormy dark ones, staring right at me as he crossed the distance between the door and where the rest of us stood, wearing different clothes than before. The motherfucker looked better as well, and in the place of the black sweater he had on this morning, there was a plain black T-shirt, similar to the ones the rest of us wore, accompanied by beige cargo pants and boots.

And he was glowing.

Smiling.

Fucking grinning at me as the murmurs of the crowd intensified, as everyone slowly realized who our instructor was going to be.

He wasn't fazed by the murderous looks I was sending his way, or the fact that almost everyone looked at me and then at him, trying to figure out what was happening.

"You gotta be kidding me," Yolanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as Adrian motherfucking Zylla raised his hand, silencing the students standing around us.

"I know we're one day late with classes, thanks to that little inconvenience yesterday." Inconvenience? He was calling the death of an innocent girl an inconvenience? "But we're here now, and since you already know who I am—" An arrogant bastard. "—I think it's only fair that you all introduce yourselves as well."

The girl on my right sighed dreamily, her hands clasped firmly in front of herself as her blue eyes drank him in, no doubt imagining all the things he could do to her.

And I loathed her almost instantly, which in turn ended up with me loathing myself, because Adrian wasn't mine, and I wasn't his. That silly notion was what got me the bruises on my neck when I tried saving him from himself and Dante, only to end up as a punching bag for him.

"Let's start from here." He pointed to the first person on his right, a shorter, bulky guy, who I saw at The Pit the other night. He took off his mask for one second, just before I got into that ring, but I would recognize him anywhere.

"Hector Ayala," he said proudly, keeping his chin high up. Adrian nodded and pointed at the next person.

"Claudia Neumann," she said, her soft voice carrying over us, but I wasn't looking at her. I wasn't even trying to.

My eyes were plastered to Adrian and the way he carried himself, filled with an authority and renewed energy I hadn’t felt before. It was as if a different person stood in front of us, and gone was the crazy look in his eyes as he listened to each and every name, as if he could memorize them all.

There were at least fifty of us here, and while I prided myself on having a good memory, I wouldn't be able to remember everyone's names, even if I tried to.

The girl on my right pulled my hand and I looked at her, ignoring the names that came after Claudia.

"Yes?" I asked, recognizing that she wanted to ask something. Yolanda looked at us, her brow furrowing, but she didn't say a thing.

"Can I stand on that side?" she asked, her soft voice barely audible even without everyone else talking. "It's just… He usually asks the last person to do something, if what everyone said is true, and I don't want to?—"

"It's okay," I sighed. I had no idea what he could ask that could be so bad, but she seemed scared, and she was the last one.

We shuffled quickly, careful not to pull any attention to us, and as the students introduced themselves I realized they were getting closer and closer to me.

"Yolanda Engström," my friend said loudly, and I wanted to hug her for sounding so strong. I promised I would train her and I intended to keep my promise. Once we were done with classes today, I'd have to talk to her and check when we could schedule some time for the two of us.

"Arabella Mathies," the girl I swapped places with said, and I had no idea if the people at the other end of the row were even able to hear her.

My eyes stayed plastered to the invisible spot on the wall on the opposite side, but there was no running away from those dark eyes when they landed on me. I didn't want to look at him, to acknowledge his presence, but I also didn't want to make the first day of classes a living hell for myself.

I moved my head just a little, enough to look at him, and there was no mistaking the self-satisfied smirk on his face when those eyes I really, really hated devoured my entire body, telling me without words what was on his mind.

"Vega Konstantinova," I said, almost adding fucker at the very end, but that would've been childish, and he already managed to make me feel like I was less than, and I wasn't going to give him any further satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

"Vega," he murmured, almost as if he was tasting my name on his lips, lost in thought as everyone else looked at me. "Where are you from, Vega?" he asked, making my heart thunder in my chest, slamming against my rib cage.

That fucker.

---