The tension has been thick between us all week, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. But tonight? Tonight, after training, the gloves are coming off. Because if Ash thinks he canplay this game and come out unscathed, he has another thing coming.
I turn on my heel, already planning my next move. Let the rookie think he has control.
The moment I step into the bar, the tension in my shoulders eases—at least for a second. The scent of whiskey and something fried hangs in the air, the hum of conversation wrapping around me like a familiar comfort. Nesta is already grinning, tugging me toward the bar like she can sense just how badly I need a drink. And I do.
“Two whiskeys,” she tells the bartender before I can even open my mouth.
I huff out a laugh. “You’re a mind reader.”
“No, I just know that if I let you pick, you’ll overthink it. And tonight?” She nudges me as we slide onto our stools. “Tonight is about relaxing, not brooding over a certain rookie.”
My lips part to argue, but before I can, the door swings open behind us. I don’t have to turn around to know. I feel it. The shift in the air. The prickle of awareness down my spine.
Nesta’s eyes glance over my shoulder, and her smile deepens. “And there goes your relaxing.”
I swear under my breath, turning just in time to see Ash and Noah step inside.
Of course. Of course, the one night I plan to drink, vent, and let go of the constant battle in my head, Ash has to show up. And judging by the way his gaze locks onto mine the second he spots me, he has every intention of making sure I don’t forget exactly who has been under my command all damn week.
His stance is easy and relaxed, but there is something in his expression—something teasing, knowing, like he is still playing whatever game he started back on the airfield. Like he is waiting to see if I’ll break first.
I turn back to the bar, exhaling through my nose as the bartender sets our drinks down.
Nesta laughs, lifting her glass. “To relaxing.”
I pick mine up, clinking it against hers. “To not murdering my rookie.”
She snorts. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
But as I take a sip, I know damn well that relaxing is officially off the table.
Nesta is mid-sentence, recounting the absolute disaster of a date she went on earlier in the week, when her eyes flick past me. A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face. And just like that, I know.
I sigh, already bracing myself. “Don’t.”
She ignores me completely. “Oh, I absolutely will.”
I follow her gaze to where Ash and Noah stand by the dartboard, all simple confidence and smug grins. Noah has a dart in hand, his stance lazy as he lines up his shot, while Ash leans against the table, watching with that infuriating smirk of his.
Nesta pushes back from the bar, grabbing her drink. “Be right back, babe.”
“Nesta—”
Too late. She is already strutting across the room, hips swaying just enough to make sure Noah notices. And judging by the way his gaze immediately locks onto her, he definitely does.
I roll my eyes and take another sip of my drink, watching as Nesta saunters right up to Noah, plucks the dart from his hand, and turns toward the board.
“You’re aiming too low,” she says smoothly, stepping into position like she owns the damn place. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
Noah arches a brow, clearly amused. “That so?”
Nesta just smiles, lines up her shot, and throws. The dart lands dead center, and I can’t help but snort into my drink. Of course, she nails it.
Noah lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Ash, meanwhile, is still lounging against the table, watching the entire exchange with lazy amusement. But then his gaze moves to me… and holds.
And just like that, my pulse kicks up.
