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.
She lost herself in the music, in the process, slowly siphoning off hints of their jagged emotion until her heart skipped a beat and her legs almost failed her. A hand shot out, hitting the emergency stop button for her treadmill, and she jerked to the side, thrown off balance.
“You’re done.” Elijah’s voice was cold, catching her easily, his arm wrapped around her waist as he set her on the ground, holding her up as she tried to gain her footing. Her headphones had fallen out, her music echoing back up to her from where they lay on the ground.
“Carter.” Easton. Shit.
“Good luck.” Elijah walked away, leaving her to raise her head and confront the scarred professor.
He looked like he had been pacing before the stretching mat, where the rest of the Alphas were lined up, half of them on their backs, the other half standing with medicine balls.
Gabriel was propped up, watching her closely as Elijah returned to him and snatched up the medicine ball, sending it down with so much force that it might have cracked Gabriel’s ribs if he hadn’t caught it so deftly, tossing it back up lightly. The whole time, he stared at her, until Elijah muttered something to him, and he returned his full attention to the task.
When she still hadn’t moved, Easton frowned, his finger twitching. He was pointing at the ground before him, but he hadn’t raised his hand at all … it was almost like the movement was completely unconscious.
She swallowed, shuffling over to him, her system in shock. She hadn’t noticed the others getting off the treadmills or beginning their other exercises. She didn’t even know how long she had been running for, but she could feel the heavy weight of everything she had gradually stolen from them. It sat inside her chest, swirling painfully, a dark vortex hungry for more. Combined with that horrible, persisting emptiness in her gut that still plagued her, it was enough to make her limbs tremble as she stopped before Easton.
“Take over, Niko,” Easton commanded, before striding to the far side of the gym, casting her a quick, loaded look like he expected her to follow.
She trailed him to a smaller stretching area where the mats backed onto a mirrored section of the wall. The air conditioner was right above her, making the hairs along her arm stand on end as her sweat dried under the frigid breeze. He pulled a yoga mat from the wall and flicked it out, settling it over the ground.
“I can do whatever the others are doing,” she insisted quietly, just out of pure stubbornness. She obviously couldn’t. There was strong, and then there was Alpha strong. If Elijah threw a medicine ball at her with that much force, it wouldn’t just break her ribs, it would break her, and then probably go through the floor beneath her.
Easton smirked like he knew what she was thinking. “On the mat, Carter. Floor work for you. I’m sorry you had to be here, but I’m sure you can make use of the time?”
She shrugged, her attention snapping between him and the mat. “Of course.”
“Professor.”
She blinked. “Sorry, Professor.” Usually, Easton let it slip when she didn’t call him professor. Kalen was the one who pulled her up on it every time, a hint of iron lining the soft reprimand.
Easton stared at her for a second before sighing and sinking onto the seat of the nearest weights machine. “Carter.” He paused, his mouth tightening. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” she squeaked.
His mismatched eyes narrowed. They were almost slits. “Cian sent a message—”
“Of course he did,” she grumbled.
“Professor,” he hissed.
She snapped her mouth shut, and he pulled in a deep breath, inching back until his shoulder rested against the machine behind him. He looked almost lazy, but his attention was far too heavy.
She waited for him to continue, and he waited for her to correct herself.
Swallowing, she muttered, “Professor.”
For some reason, he laughed. The sound was short and sharp, and his head fell into his hands as his broad shoulders shook, and then he was straightening again. “I know you borrowed Elijah’s power,” he said, shaking his head now. “You made Cian tell you what happened last night, didn’t you?”
She quickly moved to the mat, seating herself so that she was facing the mirror instead of him, her legs crossed.
“Sorry, Professor. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stretched out her right arm, notching it outside her left knee, and twisted her spine that way.
When she was finally, blessedly, turned fully away from him, her expression finally broke, her eyes growing wide and her lips twitching with the urge to mouth, “What the hell?” to someone. Except that the other Alphas were all busy beating each other up.
All of them except Kilian.
Since Niko had been his partner, he was mostly just moving between the other pairs, saying things she couldn’t hear, his pale eyes regularly flicking back to monitor her and Easton.
“Help,” she mouthed.
An amused smirk cracked over his face, but it was just as quickly wiped away, and he shook his head.
“Isobel.”
Her head whipped to the side, connecting with Easton’s stare before she could control her reaction. She switched her stretch to the other side, pretending it had all been part of the plan.
“Tell me what you know,” he said plainly.
“I don’t really think you want me repeating it, Professor.” She tried to direct her attention to his chin so that she didn’t break out into a nervous sweat, but she only found her attention snagging on the bruises rising out of his collar. “I don’t know where you got those marks,” she added.
“Would you like to know?” he asked, a little too casually.
An alarm immediately blared to life inside her head, telling her that she was being invited into a trap, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She nodded. A small motion, easily overlooked.
“It’s called the Stone Dahlia.” He dropped his voice until she had to lean forward to hear him. “The clubhouse your secret admirer is texting you about.” He emphasised the word “clubhouse” as though it didn’t even begin to describe it. “But we’re pretty sure it isn’t one of the students. We think it’s someone from the Track Team.”
“The … track team? As in the—”
“No.” He didn’t even wait for her to properly voice the question. “I mean the group of stupidly powerful old men who run this whole show.” He flicked his hand around, indicating the cameras stationed around the room. “The billionaires who decide which students get put on the Icon Track. They run the Stone Dahlia, and we’re going to make sure you give them what they want.”