Chapter Fifteen
The cafeteria smelled of metal and sweat, the air heavy with silence. Recruits hunched over their trays, shoveling food into their mouths as though finishing a meal quickly might spare them from the next torment the instructors devised.
Jax didn't eat.
He watched Luna.
She could feel his eyes on her as she poked at the gray mush on her tray, but she didn't look up. Trust was poison in the House of Shadows—she had learned that already.
"You're wasting it," Jax said finally, nodding toward her untouched food.
"It tastes like rot," Luna muttered.
"Rot still fills your stomach," he countered. "And an empty stomach gets you killed."
She scowled. "You sound like one of them."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "No. I sound like someone who plans on surviving. And I'm not planning to do it alone."
That caught her off guard. She looked up at him then, meeting eyes that were too calm for this place.
"You don't even know me," she said.
"I know enough. I saw you fight Sora. You don't quit. You don't care about looking pretty while you bleed. That's the kind of person I want at my back."
Luna's chest tightened. He made it sound so simple. But nothing in her life had ever been simple.
"You don't want me at your back," she whispered. "People who trust me… they get hurt."
For a flicker of a second, the image of her mother's weary face rose in her mind, followed by the memory of the blood on the warehouse floor.
Jax tilted his head, studying her. Then he shrugged. "Then let me decide if I get hurt or not."
Her hands curled into fists under the table. Part of her wanted to push him away, to snarl at him until he left her alone. But another part—a quieter, hungrier part—wanted to believe him.
Before she could answer, the bell clanged, sharp and merciless.
The recruits were herded to the training yard, where Instructor Vale waited. His presence was enough to drain the warmth from the morning sun.
"Pairs," he barked. "Today you climb."
The recruits looked up. Their eyes widened.
The wall before them rose at least forty feet, its surface a jagged nightmare of steel and stone. Razor wire crowned the top, cutting against the pale sky.
"Get to the top," Vale said, his voice cold. "Or fall."
One boy scoffed. "Fall where? The ground's right here."
Vale smiled then—a thin, cruel stretch of lips. He stepped aside, and the ground at the base of the wall split open.
Spikes gleamed in the pit below.
The boy's face drained of color.
"Climb," Vale said.
Pairs scrambled. Some clawed desperately, slipping on steel, scraping skin raw. Screams echoed when hands lost their grip and bodies fell.
Luna's stomach clenched. Her hands burned just imagining the climb.
She glanced at Jax.
He was already moving toward her. "You and me," he said firmly.
She hesitated. Trust was poison. But falling was death.
Her throat tightened. "Fine," she muttered.
The climb was brutal. The steel bit into her palms, tearing skin. Sweat dripped into her eyes. Below, she could hear the sickening sound of someone hitting the spikes.
Halfway up, her arm trembled. Her grip slipped. Panic shot through her veins.
"Luna!" Jax's voice cut through the noise.
She clung tighter, her breath ragged.
"Don't look down. Just move." His hand pressed against her back, steadying her. "I've got you."
She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, that no one had her, not ever. But his hand didn't leave. And somehow, step by step, she reached the top.
They pulled themselves over the razor wire, collapsing onto the platform, bloodied and gasping.
Jax grinned through his exhaustion. "Told you. We make a good team."
Luna lay there, staring at the sky. For the first time in years, she felt the tiniest crack in her armor.
And that terrified her more than the spikes below.