Page 22 of Hunted

“Three. He’s the one who launched a laptop at my head during class today.”

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t at your head!” Sebastos whined, horrified at the prospect of that disciplinary meeting.

Evander’s face broke into an easy grin, and my stomach disloyally somersaulted at its appearance. “I guess I could be persuaded to believe you.”

When Beckett turned back around, he levelled Sebastos with another hard glare. “Bed. Now. You’ve done enough damage today.”

I could have sworn Beckett’s eyes drifted over to my shoulder—but surely, I was mistaken. Because he couldn’t possibly know Seb was the reason for the wound, could he? I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone other than my two best friends, and no one else had witnessed the attack.

Surely those trees didn’t have eyes—not all the way up there.

So, unless Seb dobbed himself in during Beckett’s office foray earlier—and there’s no way he was that thick—then he couldn’t have known. But maybe he suspected. Maybe he’d find out.

“That goes for all of you! Lights out in ten.”

And just like that, Hunter Beckett initiated a ten-minute countdown that felt more like the other shoe dropping than a bedtime story.

All initiates rushed to clean up their plates and beat each other to the communal bathroom before the lights were literally turned off at the switchboard, and we were subjected to the palpable darkness that was Assassin Academy at night.

We flew through piss stops and teeth cleaning faster than lightning strikes, switching into sleepwear quicker than cracks of thunder. The skies outside stormed racketously and no one wanted to be caught with their pants down when the instructors flicked that power switch.

Fleur, Eth, and I milled about my bed, watching the other initiates flounder.

“You know, you were right,” Fleur said to Ethan before kissing both his cheeks in her standard goodnight.

“About what?” he asked, the tips of his ears reddening.

She grasped my face in both hands and pressed her lips to my cheeks too. “Farts are hilarious,” she answered quietly, her eyes suddenly riveted to the bed beside us.

Its occupant, Lee Wong, was plumping up his pillow, readying himself for sleep when he started coughing and gagging out of nowhere. His gaze shot accusingly around the room, seconds before his shoe whacked Dallas Delaroche in the back of the head.

“What was that for?!” Dallas shouted, rubbing his close-cropped skull as Fleur collapsed into a fit of silent laughter, shaking the whole cot.

“For dropping ass near my face, you dirty prick,” Lee answered, refusing to accept Dallas’ innocence on the matter.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I whispered, overjoyed at her ease in instigating World War Three in the dorm room.

She answered with a salacious wink. “A lady never farts and tells.”

Ethan sniggered, then muttered, “Goodnight, ladies.” He pressed a kiss to both our foreheads then traipsed over to his own cot on the far side of the room.

Before I could fold myself beneath the covers, the lights flicked off, leaving me floundering in the dark with an immovable Frenchwoman atop them.

“Take mine tonight,” she murmured, dropping back onto the lone pillow. “I cannot be bothered moving now—your pillow smells, by the way. I’ll take the ice water alarm clock for one morning.”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth—seriously, where did that saying come from and had it ever made sense?—I jumped at the chance for a decent night’s sleep.

“No take-backs. Me and your two fluffy pillows have a date tonight! Great timing, too, since I just got my period and I literally feel like I’m going to expire.”

She winced, only a flash of teeth visible in the darkness. “Eesh, it’s bad again?”

“Worse every month.”

She pressed another kiss to my cheek. “There are tampons and pads—the good ones—in my trunk. And a few disposable heat packs, too. Help yourself. My mother, at least, sees to it that I have those kinds of necessities in here. Now go curl up in my comfy bed and try not to, how you say, expire.” She laughed and tucked herself neatly beneath my blankets.

“Thanks, blondie, I owe you one!” I half-whispered, half-sang, proceeding to practically frolic over to Fleur’s cot right in the middle of the room.

Her giggle followed me over, and then I snuggled into her floral-scented pillows and immediately forgot about everything else.