Sasha’s hand shook as she gripped the splintering edge of the bathroom counter, heart thudding mercilessly in her chest. She stared into her reflection—dark circles under her eyes, jaw set—a version of herself she barely recognized. Through the thin wall, she heard Riley’s muffled laugh, rising in nervous, bright bursts. It made Sasha want to crack the mirror in two. She yanked open the door, letting cold air startle the ache in her ribs.

Out in the room, Riley sat on the lower bunk, phone in hand, face illuminated. The moment Sasha stepped in, Riley’s thumb froze. Their eyes met, Riley’s smile faltering, her defenses sliding up—a flick of shielded lashes, a tuck of hair behind her ear.

“Are you sneaking off again?” Sasha’s words came out sharper than intended. She sat hard on the mattress opposite, folding one leg under. “Or just texting your ‘agent’ again?”

Riley looked down, clutching her phone like a lifeline. “You know, if you’re going to interrogate me, at least wait ‘til morning,” she managed, forcing a quiver of humor, but her whole body was rigid.

Sasha couldn’t hold in the bitterness. “Why are you pretending, Ri? You disappear, you act weird, and you think I don’t notice?” She angled closer, daring. “Is it Elias?”

The name sucked all the air out of the space between them. Riley stared at the threadbare quilt, silent. The unspoken truth vibrated—a hot, dangerous thing.

Sasha’s voice broke. “Tell me you’re not screwing the instructor.”

Riley’s chin lifted, stubborn. “No. I’m—I mean, yes. I didn’t mean to. We tried to stop—”

Sasha’s laughter was jagged, half a sob. “You seriously think you’re different? That he’ll save you? That he’s not just using you like—like all the others?” Her mouth trembled. “You don’t even know him.”

Riley flinched, eyes glossy. “It’s not like that. He cares—”

“You’re going to get us all kicked out!” Sasha’s anger finally erupted. She yanked open her own drawer: inside, folded notes, all marked in curt, masculine script. Riley watched her, confused, then reached for one fallen slip.

She read the signature, voice quiet as a cut. “Wilkins?”

The silence turned deadly. Sasha grabbed Riley’s hand, shoving it away. “Don’t. You don’t get to judge me.”

Riley’s mouth opened, shut. “You—Sash…”

“It was supposed to mean something,” Sasha snapped, tears burning trails down her cheeks. “But he’s just like the rest. He’ll save himself.” She squeezed her fists, knuckles whitening. “We’re all just disposable.”

Riley’s anger melted—she reached out, tentative, clutching Sasha’s wrist. Their friendship hung in the air, threads fraying. “I’m sorry.”

But Sasha jerked her arm back, desolate. “Just—go. Be special. Let him ruin you.”

Riley lingered a moment, empty, then slipped out, leaving the door swinging. She swiped at her own cheeks, finding the corridor cold, fluorescent-lit. She wandered until she found herself outside Elias’s office, heartbeat thundering.

Elias stood at the window, back broad, jaw tight. He glanced over, face drawn. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, but his feet moved toward her, need breaking through restraint.

Riley shook as she closed the distance. “I can’t—” Her voice broke. “Everyone knows. Sash, Beth… they know.”

He cupped her face, thumb trembling along her cheekbone. “Riley. If you want to walk away, I’ll let you. But I—God, I can’t lose you. Not again. Not like before.”

She stepped into him, desperate. “Don’t let go.”

The world shrank to the heat of his hands, rough against her hips as she pressed close. He murmured a confession against her mouth: stories of mistakes, longing, the fear in being vulnerable again. His lips found hers, slow—willing her to believe he could learn, change, love.

They undressed each other with aching patience, hands reverent, skin flushed with relief and hunger. Every touch was a promise: Elias’s calloused palms tracing the line of Riley’s spine, Riley’s lips mapping the faded scar on his jaw. On the couch, tangled in each other, she gasped his name, arching as his hands and mouth explored her with aching devotion.

He moved inside her, slow at first, matching her broken rhythm, eyes locked on hers so she’d never doubt the truth of what they shared. Tears slipped free, mingling with laughter, the vulnerability dizzying. Each thrust, every whispered plea, wove them closer, stitching fragile hope back together.

After, Elias held her, breathless. “I’m scared you’ll run,” he admitted, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Then hold tighter,” Riley whispered, threading her legs with his, their nakedness a kind of armor.

Miles away, Beth crept down a hallway, voices low behind the supply room door. She pressed her ear close. Inside, Sasha and Lt. Wilkins argued in raw, desperate tones—accusations, an ending. Beth’s eyes widened as the words sank in. She stumbled back, hand to mouth.

The web of secrets quivered, ready to snap.

To be continued...