The Mission
1158 Words
I locked the bathroom stall.
I slid the latch home with a shaking hand and collapsed against the metal door. My legs gave out. I slid down until I hit the cold tile floor.
I couldn't breathe.
My lungs felt too small for my chest. Every time I inhaled I smelled him. Rain. Ozone. Electricity. The scent was clinging to my clothes. It was clinging to my skin.
"Get it together Lyra," I hissed.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw stars.
I was an operative of the Order. I was the top of my class. I could assemble a sniper rifle in the dark. I could identify fifty different poisons by smell alone.
I was not a teenage girl having a panic attack in a bathroom stall.
But I felt like one.
I looked down at my wrist.
The skin was red. A perfect handprint wrapped around my forearm. It wasn't a bruise. It looked like a sunburn. It throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
Mine.
The word echoed in my skull.
Why did he say that?
Wolves didn't claim humans. It was biologically impossible. Their instincts drove them to find strong mates. Mates who could bear strong offspring. Mates who could lead.
I was a fragile human. In his eyes I should be nothing more than a snack or a toy.
But he hadn't looked at me like a toy. He had looked at me like I was the only water in a desert.
"It's a trick," I whispered. I needed to say it out loud. "It has to be a trick."
He must have sensed the wolfsbane on me. That was it. He knew I was a threat. The confusion was an act. The protection was a strategy to keep me close so he could interrogate me later.
But my gut told me I was lying.
My gut told me the electricity I felt was real.
I reached into my boot. My fingers brushed past the handle of the dagger and pulled out a burner phone. It was a rugged black brick of a device. Untraceable. Encrypted.
I stared at the blank screen.
I had to report in. Protocol demanded a status update within one hour of infiltration.
My thumb hovered over the keypad.
Status: Contact made.
I hesitated.
If I told the Order that the primary target had made physical contact they would abort the mission. They would think I was compromised. They would pull me out and send in a strike team to burn the school to the ground.
And if they did that... Draven would die.
My heart lurched at the thought. A sharp physical pain stabbed through my chest.
No.
I gritted my teeth. Why did I care if he died? That was the plan. That was the only plan. I was here to cut his throat.
"He is a monster," I reminded myself. "He is the enemy."
But when I closed my eyes I didn't see a monster. I saw a boy with terrified golden eyes asking me why his heart was racing.
I deleted the text.
Status: Infiltration successful. Targets identified. Maintaining cover.
I hit send.
I waited. The screen went dark.
I shoved the phone back into my boot and stood up. I went to the sink and splashed freezing cold water on my face.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked wild. My skin was pale.
"You are a hunter," I told my reflection. "Do your job."
I dried my face with a rough paper towel and straightened my uniform. I took a deep breath.
I had to get to my dorm. I needed to unpack. I needed to check the perimeter for cameras. I needed to focus on the logistics of murder so I could stop thinking about the warmth of his hand.
I pushed open the bathroom door.
The hallway was empty. The bell had rung minutes ago which meant everyone was in class. I was truant on my first day. Great.
I kept my head down and walked fast. I navigated the stone corridors using the map I had memorized weeks ago.
Dormitory B. Room 412.
I climbed the winding stairs to the fourth tower. The air up here was cooler. It smelled less like wolf and more like dust and old parchment.
I found my door. It was heavy wood with a brass number plate.
I unlocked it and stepped inside.
It was a nice room. Two beds. Two desks. A large window overlooking the grounds.
It was empty. My roommate wasn't there yet.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Safe. For now.
I walked over to the bed on the right where my trunk had been delivered. I reached out to open the latches.
Then I froze.
There was something on my pillow.
It was a small piece of paper. Folded once.
My blood ran cold.
I hadn't told anyone my room number. I hadn't even checked in at the front desk yet.
I reached for my dagger. I scanned the room. The closet. Under the beds. The bathroom.
Clear.
I moved back to the bed. I picked up the paper. My fingers trembled slightly.
It wasn't a note from a secret admirer. It wasn't a threat from a bully.
It was a printout.
It was a grainy black and white image. A screen capture from a security camera.
It showed the Grand Hall. It showed Draven. It showed me.
It showed the exact moment his hand grabbed my wrist.
There was a timestamp in the corner. Ten minutes ago.
I flipped the paper over.
There was a message handwritten on the back in neat block letters. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It belonged to my father. The Commander.
I read the words and the floor seemed to drop out from under me for the second time that day.
We saw the reaction. The bond is active.
Change of plans.
Do not kill him.
If he wants you, let him have you. Make him trust you. Make him love you. Make him depend on you for the very air he breathes.
And then, when he is at his weakest... bring him to us.
I stared at the note. Bile rose in my throat.
They didn't want me to be an assassin anymore.
They wanted me to be a honey trap.
They wanted me to use the bond—this confusing terrifying electric thing—as a weapon to break him.
My phone buzzed in my boot. A single text message.
I didn't need to look at it to know who it was. But I looked anyway.
Dad: Confirm receipt.
I looked at the picture of Draven looking at me like I was his world.
Dad: If you fail to secure the target, Lyra, do not bother coming home. We will burn the Academy with you inside it.
- Writer
