The Mercenary's Bond

Actively Hunting

The bass from the lower-level gym was still humming through the floorboards as Linda lounged across my unmade bunk, idly spinning a bottle of dark red nail polish between her fingers.

I stood in front of the small, fogged-up mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door, adjusting the straps of a black lace crop top that showed off just enough skin to distract from the faint bruise already forming over my ribs. I paired it with tight dark denim jeans and leather combat boots. If you looked closely, you could see the subtle tactical sheaths tucked into the sides of the boots, but under the neon lights of a dark night club, I just looked like a college girl out for a good time.

"So," Linda said, popping the cap off the polish and painting her thumbnail a deep shade of crimson. "What's the official game plan for tonight? Are we just dancing, or are we actively hunting?"

I reached into my closet, pulling out a cropped leather jacket and throwing it over my shoulders. I looked at her through the mirror with a smirk. "Oh, I am definitely getting laid tonight by somebody."

Linda gasped, letting out a wild laugh that echoed in the tiny room. "Sh*t, Kira! Direct and to the point. I respect it."

"I've been training sixteen hours a day for two weeks straight, Linda," I said, fluffing my hair until it fell in soft, dark waves around my shoulders. “I need to blow off some serious steam before I have to go deal with a bunch of stupid, smelly men tomorrow.”

Linda tossed the polish onto the nightstand and dug into her purse, pulling out a small foil packet and tossing it at my chest. I caught it casually with one hand.

"Did you pack emergency condoms, or were you planning on relying on pure luck?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Always prepared," I replied, slipping the square into my jacket pocket along with two more from my dresser drawer.

In our world, we didn't need condoms to prevent pregnancy—that was an absolute impossibility. The Academy made sure we, especially the girls, were entirely infertile. They didn't want any of us forming sentimental attachments, settling down, or getting sidelined by something as human as a family. The moment we hit puberty, the boys were given vasectomies, and the girls underwent full hysterectomies.

To the outside world, it sounded barbaric. To the Director, it was just streamlined efficiency. It kept us focused, kept us lean, and kept us entirely dependent on the Academy. Besides, messing around with anyone who lived in the facility was a hard rule I set for myself. Steve was nice to look at in the mess hall, sure, but sleeping with guys from the house always got messy. The club was strictly for outside distractions.

The condoms were just to protect against STDs, because getting benched by a preventable infection was a quick way to earn a week of brutal penalty laps in the courtyard.

"Good girl," Linda chuckled, standing up and smoothing down her own fitted red dress. She looked smoking hot—lethal, but beautiful. "Well, if you're planning on finding a cute stranger tonight, we better get a head start on the shots."

I grabbed my ID and a stack of cash from my desk drawer, sliding them into my jacket pocket alongside my hidden silver pocket knife.

"Lead the way," I said with a grin. "Tonight, we forget about the Academy."

We slipped out of my room and headed down the dim, reinforced hallway toward the side exit where our cab would be waiting. The air outside the living quarters always smelled faintly of gun oil and floor wax, but tonight, all I could focus on was the promise of loud music, sticky floors, and a hot distraction.

We were barely ten feet from the heavy steel doors leading to the courtyard when a cold, sharp voice sliced through the ambient hum of the facility.

"Kira."

Linda and I both froze mid-step.

The Director stood in the doorway of her corner office, backlit by the low glow of her desk lamp. Her arms were folded across her chest, her graying hair pulled into that same indestructible bun. Her slate-gray eyes swept over my lace crop top and leather jacket with cool disapproval.

"Director," I said smoothly, turning on my heel and keeping my hands visible.

"In my office. Now," she commanded, stepping back to leave the door open.

Linda shot me a sympathetic, winced look out of the corner of her eye, giving my forearm a quick, subtle squeeze before stepping toward the exit. "I'll wait in the cab," she whispered under her breath.

I gave her a tiny nod and smoothed down my jacket, swallowing the sudden spike of annoyance in my throat. I turned and walked into the Director's office, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me, instantly cutting off the sounds of the corridor.