She hadn't seen him move, but he was right there in front of her.
Jax held the man by the neck and lifted him up till his feet dangled in the air. "You're weak." He spat.
She wasn't sure she saw his nails elongate, but when she saw the blood trailing down his fingers from the man's neck, she realized she wasn't hallucinating.
He held the man till he began to quiver for air, "And I don't tolerate weakness," then flung him to one of the wooden posts in the corner. The sound of bones cracking rang around the clearing as the man coughed out blood and the post shattered.
She watched the man struggle to get up, blood running from his lip down his chin. Around him the drills had stopped, but none of the other men had moved. None looked at the man, and none looked away from their own position either. By the time he got up, the injury on his neck was gone.
Jax walked back to where he had been standing and yelled, "Begin!" And the drills resumed. Just like that.
She looked at the clearing — at the men moving through their sets, at Jax with his arms crossed and at the man back on the treadmill still wiping blood from his chin — and thought of Alaric's voice the night before. "Stay away from Alpha Jax. And Ronan."
She had driven up this morning thinking the warning made no sense. Standing here now, she wasn't so sure.
Her fingers had tightened around the strap of her bag. She looked down at her hand and loosened them.
She looked across the ground.
Alaric stood at the equipment rack, cleaning a dumbbell with the rag he had on his shoulder. His eyes were flat. Completely unphased by what had just happened. He might have been looking at the weather.
"Ms. Caelora."
Ronan, the second person Alaric had warned her against, stood two feet away with a gentle smile on his face, hands easy at his sides. He was no longer with the report.
Her eyes flicked to Alaric for a second and she caught him watching now.
"I was going to flag this in the next report cycle." He glanced toward the main house. "There's a discrepancy in the event inventory. East wing cellar. The count doesn't match the last submission. It would take someone with eyes on the actual stock to verify." He paused. "Ten minutes at most. I will take you down myself."
"Of course," she said.
"Excellent. Give me a—"
"She's needed at the east terrace."
Alaric stood a few feet behind Ronan, a sack of weight over his shoulder, his eyes on the ground.
Ronan's smile held. "And since when were you privy to Ms. Caelora's schedule?" He half turned.
"The head cook mentioned it this morning." Alaric's voice came out flat. "Ms. Caelora was emailed on the update. He said it was an emergency."
She had not been emailed about any update. She didn't say a thing.
"Of course," Ronan said. His smile held a quiet uneasiness that wasn't there before. "I guess we can go again some other time." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, we can." But she answered all the same.
Iphe looked back at Alaric. He had already turned, the weight shifting on his shoulder as he moved toward the storage shed.
"Bag boy."
Jax's voice landed across the ground like something thrown. Alaric stopped.
"You're carrying my personal training equipment to the storage shed." He let it sit for a moment. "Pathetic. Eavesdropping on matters far beyond your station, and failing at the simplest task. Tell me, mutt, is incompetence your only talent?"
Laughter moved through the group. She wondered why they could all laugh at this when not one moved a muscle earlier.
She watched him set the sack down, turned around, picked it back up and started walking toward the exit.
Toward her.
She knew he was heading for the mansion and she was standing at his only way out. She should be taking her leave. But his face had that stillness. That same blankness he always wore like a second skin. Like the humiliation had happened to someone else entirely and he had long since stopped being present for moments like these. And then it all made sense.
"He's targeted." The words replayed in her head.
He reached her.
"Excuse me." His voice was low and even. He looked directly into her eyes, his gaze empty of anything the humiliation should have left in them.
She stepped aside. He moved past her, and she turned to watch him go.
Fuck you, Jax. She started after him.
One clap. Then another. And another. The kind that had nothing to do with an applause.
The sound stopped her.
She looked at Alaric. He had gone still.
"Well, well. Isn't that something."