Page 113 of Hunted

Dek leaned over, grinning, and whispered in my ear. “He means it, too. Van burns everything he touches in any kitchen ever.”

“I do not,” Van griped, catching that last part as he dropped into the chair across from me.

“You do, too,” Beck grumbled, throwing the towel over his left shoulder in a move that was way too hot to be casual. “Now stay out so Addie can at least get something edible into her stomach before debrief.”

And just like that, their moods collectively soured.

“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

When nobody answered, I whirled on the one I figured would be most likely to cough up. “Deklan Pearce, if you ever want to use those piercings on me, you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

Dek spluttered, choking on his own breath as he contemplated the ramifications of holding his tongue. Predictably, he confessed within seconds. “We have a mission debrief in sixty minutes… and you have a psych eval in thirty.”

“Right. And?”

“And it’s with Dr Calper… she’s… not the nicest⁠—”

“Her bedside manner sucks,” Van offered, trying to be helpful.

But in the end, it was Beck who laid it all out on the table. “She’s direct. Invasive. Cruel, even. They call her Doctor Scalper for a reason.”

I nodded my understanding as he continued.

“And you cannot tell her how close you came to dying last night. You cannot mention—can’t even allude to a relationship with any of us, let alone all of us. Blackwing will have you reassigned within the hour.”

“Or worse,” Van murmured, placing a hand on my knee.

“Or worse,” Beck confirmed.

“That’s all?” I looked at each of them in turn. When Beck nodded, I said, “Easy. I can keep a secret.”

“We believe you,” Beck answered with a sad tilt to his lips as he slid something across the table to land in front of me.

It was about the length of my hand, with a crosshatching design in the handle and a wicked-sharp edge carved into the spotless silver metal.

He eyed me with a stern take it, just in case expression and I nodded, testing its weight before tucking it into my boot. Trying to be nonchalant with three intense gazes drilling holes into my face, I shrugged.

“How hard could it be?”

[ 43 ]

ADDIE

ELEONORA PELLEGRINO – IMMERSIVE

Turns out how hard could it be were my famous last words. Dr. Calper was an even bigger bitch than Marie—and that was no small stick in which to measure her by.

“Have a seat, Swallow Sinclair,” she said by way of greeting—establishing our hierarchy within seconds, without even looking up from her monitor. She tapped away on her keyboard for another few moments, then finally deigned to acknowledge me.

I didn’t know what I was expecting when the boys warned me about her, but a severe blonde bob framing the face of a woman who looked to be about forty, with the coldest, deadest eyes I’d ever seen a living person possess, wasn’t it.

She pushed her black, cat-eye-shaped glasses up the bridge of her nose, analysing everything from my chosen hairstyle down to the way I crossed both ankles beneath the edge of her hard, grey sofa.

“You are aware that all Swallows are required to undergo psychiatric evaluations following their first mission.”

She framed it as a question, but never really intoned it as one. Nevertheless, I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“You may call me Dr. Calper,” she said brusquely, already moving onto the next question. “Approximately what time did you return to Blackwing Academy last night?”