Page 96 of Specter Bred

"Yes, sir," he promised with a nod.

I jerked my chin toward the door.

"You’re dismissed, Farm Boy."

Hayes shot out of that chair so fast it nearly tipped over. A second later, the door shut behind him. And then I was alone. Alone in my office, thinking about two recruits far more than I should’ve been...

Maeve Archer, Samuel Hayes, and the way they smelled like each other. The way they moved together. The way they looked at each other.

And, if I were being honest, I couldn’t stop vividly picturing what they got up to behind that locked dorm door.

Chapter 13: Maeve Archer

I stood at the edge of the training course, shock rooting me in place.

I had braced myself for the worst as Alvarez read through the ten names on the instructor’s "culling list", Graves’s term for it.

One by one, the recruits whose names were called peeled away from the formation. Some looked crushed, while others looked almost relieved, as if escaping this place was the closest thing to mercy they’d get.

I had been certain my name would be on that list. Certain enough that I had made peace with it. Or at least tried to. But when Alvarez reached the end and my name still hadn’t been called, relief hit me hard and fast enough to make my knees feel weak.

Then something else surged.

Pride.

Somehow, despite everything, I had done enough to convince at least one of the instructors I was worth keeping around.

I had even convinced my fellow recruits to move forward with my plan for Assessment One. They just didn’t know it was mine. Hayes had presented it as his own.

Something in me seethed as Hayes stood there taking credit for my idea, but another part of me, the part that had spent a lifetime navigating the fragile egos of male alphas, knew it was the only reason they’d agreed to it.

Now we had an additional problem. Ten recruits were gone, which meant the plan had to change. And we only had thirty minutes to adjust before Assessment One began.

"O’Malley was supposed to carry the final set of flags," Hayes said as we huddled together, working through the revised strategy. "We need a new finisher."

"Redwood," Teller said immediately. "He’s the strongest."

Hayes shook his head. "No. That’s exactly why it can’t be Redwood."

Teller frowned. "Why not?"

"Because they’ll expect him," Hayes said, glancing at Redwood. "He’s always the obvious pick. Biggest, strongest, and fastest. The second the instructors figure out what we’re doing with the flags, they’ll start looking for whoever we trusted to carry the final set. And they’ll assume it’s him."

Redwood crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. "So?"

"So they’ll target you first," Hayes said simply. Then his eyes slid to me. "We use Archer."

Redwood barked out a harsh laugh. "No fucking way."

My jaw tightened. "Fuck you, Redwood."

He stepped toward me, towering over me as if size alone settled the argument. "You think you can carry twenty flags across that line?"

"I know I can."

"The hell you do,” he scoffed.

The air between us went thin, both of us squared up, ready to push the argument further.