Sauter (Ironside Academy, #3)(50)

Moses rolled to his side, that devilish eyebrow of his jumping up again as he leaned on his elbow, propping his chin into his hand. “Her spine is in the wrong position.”

“It is not,” Isobel snapped back.

“Actually, it is,” Niko said. “Sit up.”

He waited for her to obey before he shifted partially behind her, flattening his hand to her stomach, his other hand pressing just above her mid-back.

“Straighten up,” he instructed, his breath brushing her neck. “You don’t want that curve when you start to bend.”

Niko never touched her like this.

She tried to correct the position of her spine, but Niko made a dissatisfied sound, both of his hands dropping to her hips, fingers digging in just above her hipbones and pulling back.

That strange, empty feeling that she had woken up with sparked back to life again, even more hollow and cavernous, an ice-cold itch creeping up through her organs.

“Better,” Niko grunted. “Now keep that rotation in your hips, keep your spine straight, and …” He pressed against her back, forcing her to bend over her legs again. He was right. Her spine had been in the wrong position.

She was too distracted to even stretch properly.

There was a spark of satisfaction in Moses’ gaze that reminded her of Oscar for an uncomfortable moment. A glint of sadistic enjoyment, as though he had just engineered a moment of chaos. A private unravelling of something just for his own private viewing.

Theodore gripped her thigh and dragged her halfway across the mat, refusing to look at the others as he went quietly back to his exercises. She returned to copying him, and Moses smirked like he had won.

“I know when people are lying.” Niko was speaking to the mat, and several heads whipped up at his confession. “That’s what my ability is.” He directed his attention to the door, ignoring everyone else. “What’s keeping Mikki?”

Isobel almost bit her tongue to hold back the barrage of questions. It wasn’t polite to interrogate people about their abilities. But being able to tell when people were lying? That was powerful. It made her think about her own father, and his claims that he didn’t have an ability. So far, all the Alphas she had met were in possession of very potent abilities. The ability to control time? To control the weather? To turn into murderous … somethings? To read the future? To turn invisible? To create chaos? To control people? She still didn’t know what Gabriel’s ability was, but she was sure he had one, and she was sure it would be illegal.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so feasible that her father was born without an ability.

“He had a rough night,” Cian answered, only a second before Easton stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“You four—” He pointed to Moses, Theodore, Cian, and Elijah. “—and Carter. On the treadmills. Now.” He grunted the words, barely even sparing them a glance. “Oscar, Gabriel, and Kilian. On the rowing machines. Fifteen minutes hard and fast and then switch.” He clapped his hands together, making Isobel twitch an inch closer to Theodore. “Go!”

Theodore pulled her up with him, giving her a carefree grin, reassuring her that Easton’s sharp mood was nothing to be concerned about. But she accidentally looked up at Easton as she passed by him, catching sight of a new scar on his cheek, deep and pink, and mottled bruising around his neck peeking up from the top of his collar.

She stumbled, her eyes stretching wide as his attention zeroed in on her, his eyelids lowering over mismatched pupils to make his gaze more severe as a hint of annoyance pinged against her chest from his direction.

“Something you want to say, Carter?” His tone wasn’t quite as sharp as when he had been addressing the group, but there was a deeply unhappy undercurrent that made her want to tuck her chin and run away.

“N-No, Professor.”

“Treadmill!” Theodore stepped between her and Easton, quickly pushing her toward one of the machines. “Hurry now.” He waited until she was tapping the buttons to increase her speed, her neck prickling like Easton was still watching her before Theodore leaned over from the treadmill beside hers.

“Keep your head down this session,” he whispered. “If you need to leave, just leave. One of us will go with you.”

She reared her head back, blinking at him in confusion. “Because of Ea—” she began to ask, but he just put a finger to his lips and hiked up the speed on his machine, kicking it into a sprint. He even pulled out headphones, but he flashed her a short, apologetic smile in the mirror as he tuned out the rest of the room.

She found her attention drifting to the left, studying Easton in the mirror as he scrolled through his phone, snarling at the boys on the rowing machines for slacking off. He was definitely in a state, but she couldn’t tell exactly what the state was, because every Alpha in the room seemed to be feeling something negative, and it was hitting her from all directions.

Wariness. Frustration. Exasperation. Dread. Distress.

They were all worked up, but they were hiding it remarkably well. On their faces, at least.

She fished her own headphones from the pocket of her shorts, choosing the latest playlist she had finalised for her practice sessions. With the aid of music, her body seemed to activate, suddenly willing and eager to move, the running belt moving too slow for the beat of the song she had chosen. She edged the speed past what she usually set it at, realising she might have a chance of running off the anxious edges of everyone in the room if she tried hard enough.