Chapter 823
She was so angry she couldn’t form words. She snatched the nearest object from the desk, a folded towel, and instinctively held it up to try and hide her face.
His gaze dropped to it, then back to her mouth. The corner of his lips twitched.
“That is a terrible cover story,” he said.
“I hate you,” she snapped.
“No, you don’t.”
From the desk, he indicated a small, flat object wrapped in plain brown paper. It had already been placed there, waiting. He did not pick it up. He could not have pressed it into her hands even if he wanted to.
She stared at it, then at him, her mind blank with confusion.
“Chewing gum,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Strong mint. It won’t hide the evidence, but it’ll give you an excuse to keep your hand near your mouth.”
His eyes glinted with dark amusement. “Consider it a field dressing for your current combat injury.”
The sheer, arrogant audacity of it left her breathless. She wanted to hit him. But the small package on the desk was a grounding reality. She needed every advantage she could get to survive the walk back to the barracks without a full-scale interrogation.
She picked it up herself and shoved it into her pocket.
“In the intel you already have,” he continued, his voice dropping to a more serious register, “you’ll find everything you need on the women in your squad. Use it. Melanie Thorne’s weak point is her ego. Attack her pride in public and she’ll make mistakes. Blair Knight is a follower; isolate her from Melanie and she’ll crumble.”
Caroline processed the tactical advice even as her anger still simmered. He wasn’t just giving her comfort. He was arming her.
“I know,” she said, her voice tight. “I’ve already started.”
“I know you have.” His smirk returned, softer this time. “I was watching.”
She shot him one last, venomous glare, then yanked the door open and fled, not giving him a chance to say another word.
She practically ran back to the barracks, her head bowed, using her hand and the gum packet to shield the lower half of her face. She prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone.
Luck was with her. The paths were mostly deserted, the other trainees still at the mess hall or in the common areas.
She slipped into the Alpha squad barracks like a thief. Brenna and Beatrix were the only ones inside, sitting on their bunks, talking in low tones.
“Caroline! Where have you been? Are you okay?” Brenna asked, her face a mask of worry as she jumped to her feet.
“Mmm-hmm,” Caroline mumbled, not making eye contact. She moved quickly to her bunk, clambering up the ladder and immediately turning her back to them, pretending to be busy arranging her blankets.
She could feel Beatrix’s sharp, intelligent gaze on her back, a silent, analytical pressure.
With swift, furtive movements, she slipped the pack of gum into her pocket, then pulled her blanket high, covering her face up to her nose. She burrowed into the thin mattress, feigning an exhaustion that was suddenly very real.