The morning air inside Sentinel vibrated with fatigue and adrenaline, the sharp scent of disinfectant mingling with the faint, nervous tang of bodies pressed too close. Riley moved through the crowd with her usual guarded grace, but today, even her attempts at invisibility couldn’t disguise the restless haze beneath her skin. Eyes slid toward Elias as he entered the gym, every step a study in effortless authority. His dark gaze skimmed the rows, pausing—just the briefest flicker—on Riley, and her pulse stuttered in her throat.

Sasha nudged Riley’s side, voice pitched in a low, teasing drawl. “You’re practically vibrating. Is it the coffee, or are you actually nervous?” Her effortless smirk was armor, but her eyes tracked Elias too, and something electric crackled in the air between all three—the promise of friction, or maybe fire.

“It’s nothing,” Riley whispered, averting her eyes as Elias barked orders, his voice both cool and magnetic. They were paired for drills, partners for the day, and Riley’s breath came shallow as she realized: up close, his every word seemed laced with something molten, dangerous.

Sasha sparred with Beth on the next mat over, trading taunts and laughter that layered on top of the tension. “Try not to pull a muscle showing off for the instructor,” Beth teased. Sasha shot back, “Try not to break a nail, princess,” but her eyes darted back to Riley, irritation sharpening her movements.

On the mat, Riley’s hands shook as she took her defensive stance. Elias’s touch was businesslike at first—a steady grip teaching form, a strong arm correcting posture. But when she stumbled, he caught her by the waist, fingers flexing just a heartbeat too long. His breath grazed her ear: “Don’t fight me. Move with me.” It was meant as instruction, but for an instant, the world spun away. Their bodies aligned, hips pressed, chests rising together. For a fraction of a second, it was no drill—they were impossibly close, and his hand splayed low on her back, anchoring her in place.

Riley’s cheeks flamed as she finally broke away, pretending to readjust her stance, but Elias’s own composure was frayed—his knuckles white, eyes unreadable. She sensed his struggle—the battle between what was right and what both of them wanted.

The drill ended, but the charge between them lingered, invisible and scorching. Sasha caught Riley’s eye, brows pulled down, catching on a note of distrust. “You good?” she asked, too casually. “You’re not usually this… distracted.” Beneath her sarcasm was something raw—something almost afraid.

Hours later, as the dorm settled to a hush, Riley found herself sliding through the halls, drawn without thinking. She almost made it to the lounge unremarked, but Elias emerged from the shadows, his presence cutting through everything.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, voice soft but edged with something unyielding.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Riley said, her throat tight. “Maybe I shouldn’t be—”

Before she could finish, his hand brushed hers. Warmth flooded her skin, their fingers tangling, wordless and desperate. The hallway was dim, empty except for the sound of their uneven breathing. Elias’s thumb skated over Riley’s knuckles—gentle, trembling. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper: “You’re making this impossible.”

“I’m not trying to,” Riley managed, her voice shaking with something like longing, something like fear.

He drew her closer, the world narrowing to just the two of them, heat radiating in the space where their bodies almost touched. She tilted her face up, searching his eyes for restraint or mercy—finding neither. Their mouths met, tentative at first, then deeper—hungry, urgent. Elias’s hand curled around the base of her skull, drawing her in, while Riley’s own hands found the firm heat of his chest, clinging as if she might fall.

The kiss burned with weeks of denial, breaking open every wall the academy tried to build. Riley felt herself unravel in his arms, heart thundering, all her secrets threatening to spill onto his tongue. His lips moved against hers, tasting each shaky breath. The hallway felt impossibly small. When they parted, they clung to each other, dazed and terrified.

“I can’t—” Elias whispered, but neither pulled away. Their hands remained locked, fingers shaking.

Later, Riley slid back into her room, legs unsteady. Sasha sat on the edge of her bed, arms folded, eyes narrowed with sharp suspicion. “Where were you?” she asked, voice brittle as old paper.

“Nowhere,” Riley lied, hoping her flushed cheeks wouldn’t betray her.

As Riley turned away, Sasha’s gaze dropped to Riley’s phone, left open on the bed—a glimpse of a half-dressed modeling shot shining on the screen. Her eyes widened, mouth set in a hard, thin line. She swallowed, fighting the urge to call her friend out—or to protect her.

Outside in the hall, Elias pressed a fist to his forehead, breathing hard, torn open and vulnerable. The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

Down the corridor, Sasha’s knuckles whitened as she gripped Riley’s phone, screen still glowing with secrets.

To be continued...