Page 53 of Specter Bred

"We've got it from here," Alvarez said.

Graves didn't respond. He simply turned and started walking.

I followed.

Judging by the rigid set of his shoulders and the muscle ticking along his jaw, whatever Graves had to say to me wasn’t going to be pleasant.

But as I trailed behind him, one thought kept circling back through my head...

He’d known.

Not just that Redwood had shoved me. Graves had known I’d provoked him. He’d known I’d spent the entire fucking day needling him, pushing a little harder every time I caught the bastard looking my way. No one had explained that part. No one had needed to. Graves had walked into that confrontation already knowing exactly what had happened.

And there was only one way he could have known...

He’d been paying attention.

Watching.

Listening.

Keeping tabs on me from the opposite side of the training grounds while he was supposed to be supervising an entirely different group of recruits.

I stared at the broad set of Graves’s shoulders as he stalked ahead of me, a nervous flutter stirring low in my stomach.

As much as I hated to admit it, Hayes had been right about one thing. Graves was paying attention to me. A hell of a lot more attention than I’d realized.

But when it came to his theory about why?

Hayes was completely fucking wrong.

He had to be.

There was no way the idiot could’ve been right about that, too.

…Was there?

Chapter 7: Nolan "Grizzly" Graves

Archer followed a few paces back. For once, she stayed silent. Which was good, because if she opened her mouth right now, there was a very real chance I was going to lose my temper.

The image of Redwood's hands hitting her chest and Archer stumbling backward kept replaying in my head.

I glanced back at Archer.

Blood dripped from her fingertips.

Too much fucking blood.

For one fucked-up second, it was Reaper behind me, his blood hitting the dirt and pooling. He looked up at me as if I could somehow fix what was already too fucking broken. Blood poured from his wound, soaking through my hands. His face went gray as gunfire cracked around us.

“Grizz—”

His plea came out wet and broken, the rest of the word swallowed by the blood bubbling in his throat.

My steps faltered. My vision blurred.

Then I blinked, and the world came back into focus.