Dread fills every inch of me and Ben feels precisely the same. Thirty-four people are still left standing on this field, and only ten of us will become cadets.
What are the chances that both of us will make it?
Hell, what’s the chance that even one will?
About 30 percent chance for one, my wolf unhelpfully supplies, and inwardly I scowl at our propensity for fast math. But just about 6 percent for both of you…
Shit. s**t. I mean, I know it’s more than just a random selection – that our previous rankings come into play…
But as the Captain continues to announce names? Our odds continue to go down.
The Captain announces number 90 and I hang my head, wondering what the hell I’ll do next. I mean, I guess I’ll go home, but how the hell will I get there? Rafe and I – we never even discussed
