book resting in her lap. She looks young, so young . It’s not hard to remember her as she was when we first came to the Academy, just barely six years old. Somehow, almost impossibly, she’s managed to keep that same sweetness and innocence with her.
My sweetness and innocence disappeared long before we arrived at the Academy.
“Where are you going?”
I grab the leather jacket off my bed, zipping it up to my neck. “I have another assignment.”
“So soon? You just finished one.”
“Maybe I’m that good,” I tease, trying to erase the worry from her eyes.
“You’re the best.”
This time my smile isn’t forced. Grace is nothing if not loyal. She’s the only bright spot in my life and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
“I’ll be back early. I’ll bring ice cream or something. We can celebrate my birthday.”
“Okay.” She grins. “I love you, X.”
The words come easier for her, they always have. For me, the words are something else entirely. But the emotion—
I love her so much it hurts.
“Ditto, Grace.”
###
Luke is waiting for me when I step outside my dorm building. He’s dressed in a black leather jacket, black military style pants. He pushes off against the brick wall, walking away without a backward glance, leaving me no choice but to follow.
Again, I bristle at his arrogance. “You’re such an ass.”
Luke ignores me, his pace steady and quick as he heads toward the main gates.
I lengthen my strides; he has to have at least eight inches on me. He’s all leg, moving with a confidence I envy. He’s always been like this—big, brash, bold, tough to keep up with.
“Where are we going?”
“Kensington.”
Henry Arnoff’s school is in Kensington. He’s jumping right into recon.
“We don’t exactly fit in for Kensington.”
“We’re not going on a social call. It’s dark out. We’ll blend in just fine.” His pace quickens.
There’s something up with him tonight. He seems tense and it’s not just my presence throwing him off.
“How are we getting there?”
“Bike.”
I scan the area. The night is dark, a slight chill filling the air around us. Nothing looks obviously out of place; everything is as it should be. And yet—
I can’t keep from looking over my shoulder.
Luke stops in front of a gleaming black motorcycle. A gasp escapes me before I can help it. My voice takes on an almost reverent tone that calls to mind Father Murphy quoting scripture.
“That’s a Ducati.”
There, in front of me, is my dream bike. It’s sleek, powerful, way more impressive than my old beaten-up motorcycle. I bet it’s fast.
“I’m not riding with you.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie. The thought of riding all the way to Kensington with Luke—my body tucked against his—is its own special brand of torture. But hell, for that bike? I’d probably ride with the Director herself.
Luke reaches down and grabs a black helmet propped next to the bike, handing it to me. “We could go back and forth, but we both know you’re getting on this bike.”
The helmet hangs between us, my hands itching to grab it. My pride gets the better of me.
I fist my hands on my hips.
Luke laughs, the sound warm and rich. I used to like that laugh. It used to make my toes curl, used to make me want things I had no business wanting. Now it just makes me feel empty inside. The loss of what we had is an ache I can’t erase.
“You’ve gotten more difficult since I left the Academy. What happened to the girl who followed orders and was a good little soldier?”
It’s not a new argument between us. It was Luke, after all, who convinced me to sneak out of the Academy on my fifteenth birthday. Luke who taught me how to steal a motorcycle. Luke who always took the blame when we were caught.
Of course, everything changed the night I tried to kill him. Or maybe it changed even before that, the night he took me to bed.
I grab the helmet,