"Now this—I like," Robert said, staring at the black limousine parked beside two luxury cars and a minibus.
"Five minutes ago you were whining the entire way about how early we had to leave," I snapped. He'd been grinding on my nerves since the moment we woke up—and now he looked like it was Christmas morning.
Yesterday, Clyde called me in and said we'd be leaving a day earlier than the others.
Kristina told Robert the same.
And now, at seven in the morning, we were standing in front of the limo while she smiled and waved at us from inside.
As we got in, the other cars carrying aristocrats and their candidates rolled out of the academy grounds.
"Why are we leaving early?" Robert asked, running his hand over the beige leather seats like he'd never seen anything like it.
"Because you need to look presentable," Kristina said.
"And why exactly?" I frowned.
"Because, my slow friend," Robert cut in, "we're their dogs."
"Lapdogs."
"And lapdogs are supposed to look good."
"Not how I'd phrase it—but close enough," Kristina said with a faint smile. "Are you hungry?"
"Of course we are! They didn't even let us eat!" Robert shot back.
The ride took hours.
Kristina and Robert talked and joked the entire time.
Since when were they this friendly?
Clyde didn't say a word.
Didn't even look at me.
Not that I wanted to talk to him—
but it still got under my skin.
We didn't stop at a mall.
Not a boutique.
Instead, we pulled up to the gates of a massive estate.
Barely smaller than the Holivan residence.
"And what are we doing here?" I asked.
"This is my family's home," Kristina said. "It'll be easier to pick out your clothes here."
"Yeah, totally normal," Robert muttered. "Exactly like our usual environment."
"Well—mine, anyway."
"Alan here grew up in a place like this."
"He should feel right at home."
"I wouldn't go that far," I said quietly.
The real Alan probably would've.
I wasn't him.
It took effort not to stare.
Not to react.
Robert didn't even try.
"Why drag all this here when we could've just gone to a store?" he said as racks started rolling into the room.
Dozens of them.
"And they all look the same!"
"They're not the same," Kristina said patiently. "Different cuts. Different shades. And you and Alan wear different sizes."
"Then what's the difference between this—" Robert grabbed one black suit, then another, "—and this? They're identical."
"Different fabric. The second one is more fitted. And the color depth isn't the same."
"All I see are two black suits."
"Why make this so complicated?"
"You're the one who said we need to look presentable," I said.
Even though I couldn't see the difference either.
"Oh yeah?" he sneered. "Let me guess—you can totally see the 'color depth,' right?"
"Of course," I said flatly.
Didn't even blink.
I was changing into my fourth suit behind a screen when the door slammed open.
I didn't think.
I moved.
Pulled the curtain aside and ran.
Kristina and Clyde were still on the couch.
Two men in black.
Masks.
Already moving toward them.
And neither of them reacted.
Something snapped.
Rigor's words. Instinct. Didn't matter.
I moved.
Fast.
They were huge.
Easily twice my size.
One sent a wave of force straight at the aristocrats.
The other came at me.
"Robert!" I shouted—
but he was already moving.
I snapped a strand of power forward, deflected the attack, slipped past the second man's strike, hit the floor, rolled—
and came up between him and my employer.
The other one was Robert's problem.
He turned on me.
Too slow.
I twisted out of the force he threw, snapped a second strand from my other hand, wrapped it around his legs—
and yanked.
He went down hard.
I was on him before he could react.
Pinned.
Locked him down.
Tore the mask off.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I snapped—
and drove my fist into his nose.
Bone cracked.
"Stop! Stop!" he yelled. "I surrender! This was a test!"
I glanced at Clyde.
He gave a short nod.
I released him and stepped back.
"So that's what Rigor meant."
"What are you talking about?" Robert said, breathing hard. His opponent looked worse.
"That the matches start the moment we leave the academy."
"Exactly," my opponent said, wiping blood from his face. "And you passed."
His eyes dragged over me.
Slow.
"Didn't expect much from a body like that."
I looked down—
and froze.
I was standing there in nothing but my underwear.
"…You've got a pretty fine build," Kristina said.
Then she saw my face.
"No—that's not what I meant! Not feminine—just… lean. Tight. Without…" she gestured vaguely toward Robert, who at least still had pants on.
"So you picked him for the body?" the second man said, pushing himself up. "Pretty face and all?"
"Hey! Where do you see a 'pretty face' on me?!" Robert snapped.
"So he's not yours?" the man asked Kristina, nodding at me.
"He's mine," Silius said evenly.
Cold.
"Holivan. Get dressed."
"You've shown enough."
I nodded and went back behind the screen.
"Holivan? So the rumors are true?" the man I'd punched said.
"What rumors?" Clyde asked calmly.
"That he chose to become a Special. That he's insane. That he somehow forced you to pick him."
He hesitated.
"But… he didn't look crazy."
"Actually—pretty damn capable for… sorry."
"He's my candidate," Clyde said.
"And one of the most promising in the academy."
"He didn't force anything."
"I chose him."
The way he said it didn't help.
Not at all.
When I stepped out, fully dressed, the looks I got—from them, from Robert—said enough.
They heard it.
The same way I did.
Heat hit my face hard.
Great.
Now they'd think he picked me for my face.
Not my ability.
I clenched my jaw.
Fine.
Let them think that.
Clyde Silius chose me for a reason.
And I'd make damn sure everyone saw exactly what I could do.
I'd prove I could protect him.
Better than anyone else.