DANGEROUS OBSESSION

10

LAUREN MOSS

I step out and simply follow those who were already walking quickly up ahead.

For sure, I wasn’t the only one to suffer painful consequences for being one hundred and twenty seconds late here.

I quicken my pace, because my arms are so weak that I don’t want to have to do another push-up, because, for sure, I’d end up face-planting on the floor.

I follow them. I don’t see Apia, so I suppose she’s already further ahead.

And well, now I’m feeling more like myself. I guess telling my sister off and talking to Miriam made me feel more me… somehow.

I’m a little more relaxed about my classmates’ reactions, although yesterday’s scenario still haunts me, and I don’t think that’s going to stop anytime soon.

But I’m like this: normal Lauren, not Lauren weighed down with guilt, clueless, and scared. Everyone is entering a room, and I go in too.

There’s no equipment here, so for sure this isn’t a physical training session. I watch them walk in and take their positions perfectly.

Obviously, they already have their fixed spots.

There’s an empty seat at the back, so I go and sit there.

This room doesn’t look like a normal classroom. Nothing extravagant, but nothing traditional either. There’s that holographic panel I saw in the room where the special agents stay—Blake’s room.

And there are tablets here. Apparently customized.

Because they aren’t from any known brand. So, I’m almost certain they were made by them. Every time I see these things, I get more impressed and nearly uncontrollably anxious, especially knowing I’m still not in command of any of it.

After all, it’s not my habit to be behind on things.

But let’s go, work the mind to try to keep up with all of them, who are more advanced than me in every possible subject.

“Good afternoon!” I hear James’s voice, and I lift my gaze forward.

Where’s Blake?

“Good afternoon!” everyone responds excitedly, and they don’t look surprised at all. So I assume that whatever we’re going to do now, the tutor is James.

“Moss,” James says, looking at me, and for the love of God…

When will this newbie wave end?

I hate the fact that all eyes have to be on me like this.

I look at him and don’t even know how to respond. His name is James, but should I call him James in front of everyone in a classroom? Or is that inappropriate?

Man…

“Sir…” I want to bury my face in a hole. He smiles as I feel my face turn red.

“I know I’m not as handsome as Agent Blake, but I’m just as young,” he says, and I can only smile awkwardly.

“Call me James,” he says, and I nod. “I’ll continue the class normally, but at the end, come see me so I can give you some book references,” he adds.

“Alright,” I respond, and he nods, fiddling with that contraption, which I honestly thought was for the future and not something that already existed.

The moment he started explaining, I was fascinated. It’s Geography, but not a superficial school-level explanation. This is simply the most complex Geography I’ve ever been introduced to in my life.

It’s not “Planet Earth, with Oceania, Antarctica, Africa, Europe, Asia, South America, and North America as continents,” and not little flags, and not even the one hundred and ninety- three countries recognized internationally by the UN.

None of that.

It’s Geography mixed with History and Politics, and I’m starting to get scared. But I’m understanding. The way he explains it isn’t just clear—it’s brilliant. He’s a genius, I think.

Wow!

We have to know every single alley that exists on this thing we call Planet Earth.

It’s useful and essential for field and tech agents, which is obvious, right? But, man, if even knowing the number of countries on this planet is stressful, am I supposed to know streets? Avenues?

I think this is similar to what pilots must study, but I’m almost certain it’s not quite on that level. After all, I thought GPS was a bit more useful than overloading your mind like this.

But alright… it would be hypocrisy to expect less when it comes to special agents, right?

They’re special for a reason.

And well, as you can see, or at least get an idea, the class was extremely intense. Because what I just mentioned isn’t even a third of what he was explaining. And when he finished, I could only let out a deep sigh, as if I had just run a marathon.

God help me…

I didn’t even use the tablet. I can’t write or organize the material if it’s not already decoded in my mind. But since he mentioned references, I’ll definitely grab a book or something to study later.

I get up with everyone else leaving and walk over to him.

“What did you think, Moss? I didn’t see you taking notes,” he says, and I look at him.

“I think you’re a genius,” I say, and he smiles, pleased with himself. “I just didn’t take notes because I need to process the material first,” I add, and he raises his gaze at me.

“How are you going to process it if you didn’t jot anything down?” he asks, and I smile.

“By studying again, James,” I tell him. “Or does seeing me write things down help with the retention requirements?” I ask.

“It doesn’t,” he says, handing me the references.

“Thank you!” I respond. “Can you give me the topics for the upcoming lessons so I can prepare?” I ask.

“Don’t you think you’ll get overwhelmed, Moss?” he asks. “Remember, this isn’t the only subject you’re behind in, and there will be more,” he warns, and I nod.

“I know, and if you could give them to me, I’d appreciate it,” I say, and he looks at me strangely but gives them anyway.

“Thank you!” I say.

“You’re welcome!” he replies, and I leave.

There isn’t much break time now, so I just rush to my room and close the door behind me as soon as I enter.

I put the references in the drawer of the bedside table, hoping I won’t be too wiped out today and that I’ll still have the energy to study a bit when everything for today is done.

“I’m going to freak out…” I literally sing it, rushing out of there.

Before I lie down and sleep.

I drink water and decide to sit in the courtyard to enjoy the sky, which will soon start to darken. I barely plop my butt on the bench when that damn alarm starts ringing, and I just follow them.

According to the schedule Sasha gave me, everything is properly organized, but since I haven’t explored this place yet, I don’t want to get lost for no reason.

Later, I’ll observe the place more carefully.

Another room again, and well, it seems like we’re moving a bit away from Geography and onto another Science.

I let them sit, then I go to the empty spot, which was at the back as well but behind some benches. They look like those anatomy or chemistry lab tables.

If it’s anatomy, it’s not the field I study at college, but it’s the area I would’ve wanted to be more involved in if I hadn’t been forced into another course.

“Hey!” I turn to the side to hear the voice greeting me, and it’s Noah, one of Apia’s group friends. He has blonde hair, kind of like Samuel, and light blue eyes.

He’s tall and handsome, but what does that matter, Lauren?

“Hey!” I greet him, giving a half-smile.

“This is a pretty complex subject. If you want, I can help you later,” he offers, and I smile, pleased with his kindness.

“Thank you!” I say, and he nods.

This time, a gentleman enters. Unlike almost everyone here, he’s kind of short. And he seems more serious than the others, or maybe a bit grumpy.

“Good afternoon!” we respond as he enters, and his eyes sweep the room until they find mine.

Good grief.

“Miss Moss,” he says, and I just nod. “Welcome!” he adds.

“Thank you!” I say in gratitude.

“As you should know, we’re very advanced. It’s normal for you to feel lost. At the end of the class, you may come here to take the references from the previous lessons,” he informs me.

“Alright, thank you!” I say, and he nods. And finally, their eyes move away from me.

He begins his lesson, which is basically the most superficially explanatory way possible: Anatomy.

But for what exactly?

First aid, weak points of any human being, identifying poisoning symptoms, knowing how to see when there has been any type of aggression, like rape, strangulation, recognizing what kinds of objects may have been used for such acts.

Literally every heavy thing you can imagine.

And although there’s a lot I don’t know, I’m superficially familiar with it because I’ve always been strangely addicted to documentaries and crime shows.

Not that I knew everything he was saying, obviously, but some terms were similar to things I’d already heard, and I was actually enjoying it.

Well, it’s complicated, but I’m almost sure it’ll be one of my favorite subjects here.

Unlike the previous class, this one lasted much, much longer. It simply got dark while we were still there.

When it ended, I stood up and went to him.

“Here you go,” he says, handing it to me.

“Thank you!” I say, he nods, and I leave. I walk back home. It’s already night.

I go inside, close the door, and store the references in the same place as the previous ones.

According to the schedule, in fifteen minutes there’s another class, and since I’ll have to change uniforms, I think I’m going to cry a little for my physical condition.

I went to the bathroom and changed, putting on the uniform described on the schedule. I put the clothes I had worn into the washing machine and took out all my clothes from the dryer. I leave them there to iron and properly put away later.

Time passed so quickly that the moment I stepped out, that alarm rang again. I walk quickly, following the others while fixing my ponytail.

This will be the last class today.

I enter and, well, another surreal place around here. It looks like a… honestly, I’m starting to question whether I didn’t die back there and am now living in a parallel universe.

“Damn…” I mumble, stopping next to Apia, who’s already here. “Hey!” she says, and I smile.

“Hi!” I greet her.

“What are we going to do here?” I ask, curious.

“We…” she starts, but suddenly goes silent, and the way her face flushes nearly scared me.

Her eyes widen slightly, gain a sparkle, and her face becomes so red I thought she might faint.

But then my eyes follow the direction hers are looking at, and I’m not surprised at all when I see Blake.

Well, who wouldn’t react like that seeing him in that uniform?

Damn…

His eyes find mine, and I almost look away because of how attractive and penetrating his blue gaze is. His black hair makes a contrast with his blue eyes and black uniform that I never thought I’d consider… sinful.

My eyes simply drift down from his gaze, refusing to obey me, tracing him millimeter by millimeter. But they didn’t return to his eyes because I suddenly regained my conscience and forced my attention immediately onto something else.

“Good evening!” everyone responds, and I decide to stop pretending I’m still admiring the room and pay attention to whatever is going to happen. I don’t want to end up in jail, right? And after today, I absolutely refuse to get more punishment over something petty.

“I’ll give you ten minutes to warm up before we begin,” I hear him say, and everyone nods and spreads out across the huge space. I decide to stay where I am.

“Moss, you at least know how to do a warm-up, don’t you?” he asks, making me lift my eyes to him.

He said it sarcastically…

Oh, he’s provoking me?

“I do,” I answer, narrowing my eyes at his sneaky little provocation.

“Then start,” he simply says, and oh, what a tiny spark of rage. I roll my eyes once he looks away from me and walks off.

I put down my water bottle and start stretching the way I used to at the gym.

First my neck, then the upper limbs—which honestly need it—the trunk, the lower limbs, the little feet and the little hands. In my pace, in my rhythm. Trying not to copy anyone, because the extent to which I feel like a fish out of water here is indescribable.

They’re doing a kind of stretching that already looks like heavy physical exercise. And I’m here with my… basic stretches.

I didn’t even dare imitate them; it’s better to stick to my basic stretches than not only look ridiculous trying to copy them, but also risk snapping something in my body here. Either a foot or a hand and, as a bonus, ending up tired before anything even starts.

Blake returned, and they positioned themselves in the center of the room, millimetrically, and I was already confused, because there wasn’t any space left for me there.

“Moss,” Blake’s voice sounds, and my entire body breaks into goosebumps.

What is that voice?

I nod, pretending to be normal and trying not to break eye contact.

“You’ll watch them carefully, since you’re behind on some terms,” he says, and I nod. “Try to pay attention,” he says, and I sit on the bench, looking in their direction.

After Blake’s signal, they start in sync, performing what I’d call a martial arts choreography. I try to pay as much attention as possible and listen to the names they chant in unison along each movement, knowing perfectly well I’d need to do each one at least twenty times to get good at it.

But still, I pay attention.

BLAKE WRAY

My eyes watch Moss’s daughter closely as she observes the other aspiring recruits of the FBI team.

How controversial to see the daughter of one of the most hunted killers in the world—especially by me—wearing the training uniform that, ridiculously enough, somehow makes her even more attractive, sitting here and being trained by me to face her own father without knowing a thing.

Looking at her specifically, more than at her sister or brothers, awakens almost the same sensations I had when looking into that filthy old man’s face at that charity gala.

The rage, the hatred, and the desire to kill her right in front of her father and then kill him right after, even as I remind myself that the only one to blame for everything was her father alone.

And at the same time, it makes me question how someone who looks so delicate and beautiful could be that man’s daughter.

And well, the question lingering in the air is: Why not one of Moss’s other children?

The answer, as simple as it is, is obvious.

The other three receive more attention from the parents—especially from Moss. But the youngest, in this case Lauren, not so much.

Which is advantageous for what we need: confidentiality.

After all, no mistake can exist. I will have that man behind bars or underground as soon as possible.

Moss wouldn’t be as worried about her as he would be about the other daughter, who obviously doesn’t have the same characteristics that would be useful as Lauren does, and would be useless here.

Adding to the fact that, ever since Lauren was born, she drew the media’s attention, a major thing for those families, is one of the reasons why there’s so much rivalry within that household.

She is completely different from her sister, and the parents always had a certain preference.

But that’s not the point right now.

The sooner she’s trained, the better for me.

LAUREN MOSS

They finish in unison for the third time, and I take a deep breath. Blake tells them to come over here, to the counter.

“Moss,” he says, staring at me. “Front.”

No, no, no… Man, you really could let me train alone later.

Why does he enjoy humiliating me?

“Begin,” he says, and I inhale deeply, trying to recall everything just so I don’t look ridiculous doing this.

Because they look like professionals, and I… I’m going to look like a chicken being chased away. Too much humiliation!

I start, but it doesn’t take long before he makes me stop.

“Moss, if you’re here, it’s because you might have to face criminals in hand-to-hand combat who weigh triple what you do. Move like it,” he says seriously, and I nod. “I need you to do what you saw here and shout the name of every movement you’re doing,” he adds, and my heart speeds up, agitated.

All right…

“Begin,” he orders, and honestly, I did it with the most energy I could muster and with the best execution I could manage, trying to match them, because I can’t be kicked out of here.

I don’t want to.

Obviously, I failed one thing or another, jumbled one movement name or another, but I made something up and kept going.

After all, I hope he didn’t expect me to know everything perfectly from here to here.

“Ah!” I finish already out of breath, but trying not to look so sedentary and I look at him. His eyes, his expression reveal nothing. He’s neutral, watching me.

“Good for today,” he says, and I let out a deep breath, feeling more relieved and calm, and still nervous.

I simply nod, and he clicks something. The entire room transforms. More obstacles appear here, and I walk to the counter, dazzled.

Blake explains the obstacle, and it’s definitely not one of the simple ones. It has a lot of complexity and demands a lot from both the body and mind, because it’s clear you have to think.

There are holograms here. It’s surreal. It feels like I’m in a real crime scene now, and he explains absolutely everything in detail.

Impressive.

And there I was, watching action movies thinking I could do everything the characters did with no difficulty at all…

Oh, where was my head when I thought something like that?

And well, besides wanting us to complete this, he also wants us to finish it in the shortest time possible.

I’m going to lose it!

I tried to focus on the obstacle, and you guys have no idea of the scale of this thing. It’s way bigger than the obstacle from earlier today, and even more realistic and intense.

I watch each of them go through it. After all, they’re far more trained than I am and perform each movement with fluidity and without risking injury, so all I can do is copy…

I watch where most of them struggle and try to see what I could do to avoid the same issues. And I watch how some, like Noah, did it. He has the best time so far.

With a tight knot of nerves in my stomach, and everyone else fading into nothing because I’m so focused and anxious…

I know I won’t match Noah’s time, but I need to at least be somewhere around the average here.

The alarm goes off, my turn.

And I was so focused that the moment my feet stepped in, my nervousness vanished, and the fear of all this holography became adrenaline.

Adrenaline that helped me and messed me up at the same time, but I pushed myself, trying to do the same things the others did.

I didn’t do everything as perfectly as they did, but that was obvious, especially because everything required a lot of strength, and I don’t have that much.

It slowed me down a lot, and I’m almost sure I dislocated my wrist.

“s**t…” I mumble, having to drag myself across the floor, and my wrist gives me a painful goodbye.

I almost hit my chin on the floor, but managed to avoid it.

I had to overuse my other wrist and use my forearm to crawl here, because if I pushed myself up even a little bit with this obstacle above me, I would definitely start bleeding.

I'm like this, with absolutely no strength, already giving up internally, extremely breathless and sore.

But did I stop?

I didn’t.

Better slow than quitting, right?

I finished in five minutes and thirty-eight seconds, to my surprise.

I just walk out of there, feeling a lot of pain in my wrist and heading toward the counter, satisfied.

I thought thirty minutes had gone by.

Well, it wasn’t a record, obviously. After all, Noah finished in one minute and fifty-nine seconds.

But, just like in this morning’s test, he has an impressive physical aptitude. But there were people who took seven or more, so I didn’t do that badly.

I sit down, trying to hide the pain and carefully watch the others, and my hand goes to my wrist, hoping he won’t tell us to do anything else that requires physical effort after this.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

And I really thought about saying something about my pain, but, first of all, I’m the rookie, and as they mentioned earlier, they think I’m “weak.”

I hate people thinking I’m weak, especially because I’m not.

There are some girls here, recruits, who have been giving me dirty looks since the beginning… Normal, but it’s not exactly comfortable, and nothing would get better if I simply said that I won’t do a training exercise because I sprained my wrist and, on top of that, I’m the new girl.

That wouldn’t help at all.

And the best of all reasons is the fact that I don’t think Blake will let me, because he’s quite strict.

It was noticeable, but I don’t think he cares about a rookie’s wrist like mine, someone who has already caused trouble since arriving.

And the worst part is that each of us had some sort of mannequin to train on before we trained hand-to-hand.

He explained a little bit from the previous class we had, about where to strike and how to strike, and guess what? I’m going to have to punch the mannequin.

And I did it, feeling my face flush from the pain because I tried not to make any suspicious grimace.

Otherwise they’ll still think I’m soft.

I pushed myself and got through it, even though it hurt like hell and I was out of breath. But did it stop there?

No.

My luck was that the hand-to-hand exercise was with Apia, and it wasn’t really for anyone to win, just to practice, so she didn’t hurt me any further.

But did it last long?

Yes, it did!

He only let us stop when the bell rang.

And everyone rushed out to get ready for dinner, obviously exhausted.

I’m feeling unbearable pain in my wrist and I’m almost sure I broke it. I walk to where I left my water bottle and grab it.

“Ai…” I mutter, groaning in pain as I hold my wrist.

“What happened?” Blake’s voice startles me, and I take a deep breath, turning towards him.

I thought he had already left too.

“I…” I mumble, a little stunned by his closeness. I feel my face flush as my eyes take him in.

He smells really good.

His eyes drop to my wrist, and I let go of it.

“Oh, uh… nothing serious,” I answer. “I think I just twisted my wrist,” I say, casually. “Twisted? Your hand is red,” he says, and I sigh.

“Uh, I’m almost sure I broke something during the first exercise, and it hurts too much,” I say honestly, because it does, and he stares at me.

There’s no hiding it anymore.

“Come,” he simply says, walking ahead.

I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding and follow him.

He walks ahead, and I follow two steps behind him. I don’t even need to say that everyone’s eyes were on me, do I?

They must be assuming a bunch of things that aren’t true.

I thought we were leaving here to go see the nurse who treated me yesterday upstairs, but we simply walked past the area I still haven’t explored in this place and entered the infirmary.

“Mr. Wray!” the nurse, who had been sitting, stands up immediately and has the same reaction everyone has in his presence, she turns red like a cherry. “How can I help you?” she asks, and I hold back my smile when I see her adjusting her uniform with her hands and staring at him.

Exactly what the women at the charity gala were doing.

Well, it’s a normal reaction.

Just so you all have at least a third of an idea that I’m not exaggerating.

“Uh, my wrist,” I say, and finally her eyes come to me, not nearly as excited as they were milliseconds ago. “I think I broke it,” I say, really feeling the pain, and she nods.

“Come here, please,” she says, and we walk into another room where there are several machines.

She just told me to open my hand on the table, under the machine, and I did so for the X-ray.Then she told me to go back to the previous room.

To my surprise, Blake is still here. I thought he would’ve left already.

Before, I thought the problem was just his beauty or how lean he is, but his manner, his presence… He emanates this aura that could make anyone tremble, but the worst is his gaze, the way he looks. It feels like he has the ability to see my skeleton or my thoughts.

And that is definitely messing with me more than I would like.

“Oh, Mr. Wray!” the nurse, who only spoke the bare minimum to me, exclaims as she walks in and sees him there. “I thought you had already left,” she says, smiling awkwardly, and I look at him.

And worse—it seems like he really enjoys seeing people embarrassed and flustered in front of him.

“What happened?” he asks her, looking at the image of my hand bones on the paper she’s holding.

“Just a dislocation in the wrist,” she says, and I sigh, more relieved. Imagine having a cast right now?

“Sit,” she says to me, pointing at the examination table, and I do so.

I’m sweaty, exhausted, aching, still breathless, trying not to feel strange things around… him.

The cause of all this.

“Stretch out your hand,” she says, and wait…

Is she going to try to put my wrist back into place again?

She grabs my hand, and I already close my eyes, biting my lips, fully expecting the pain I’m about to feel.

“I wa—” I was about to ask her to go easy. “Ah!” I scream in pain anyway, I don’t even care.

“Damn…” I mumble, still in pain.

Look, I’m not a robot. I feel pain.

“If you plan to be an agent, you’ll have to improve your reactions, young lady. It was just a dislocated wrist.” Oh, no. She did not just say that.

“Let me dislocate yours and simply twist your bone back into place as if nothing happened, just so I can see one little thing,” I say, outraged, and her face—which had been wearing a proud little smile after her previous comment—reddens with embarrassment.

I’m not even an agent, and they think I’m going to stay quiet while someone adjusts a bone without even a ‘deep breath,’ or an ‘it’ll only hurt a little,’ just a tiny warning so the person can prepare?

I’m not a robot, no.

“I say that because you’re one of Mr. Wray’s students. If you want to stay here, you have to be more… resilient,” and she doesn’t shut up.

I can already see who all this is really for. Or what, actually.

No point in arguing.

“My wrist still hurts,” I simply say, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Blake’s little smirk.

“Let me apply an ointment to ease the pain and swelling,” she says, going to get it, and she applies it. And that’s it.

For the rest of the time, she kept trying to make conversation with Blake, and I just stayed as I was.

“If you feel pain, take this pill and apply this balm to help,” she says, handing them to me. “Thank you!” I say in gratitude.