Trying To Heal

Chapter Fifty-Four

April

I work in the Secret Service's Behavioural Unit. My shift is nine-to-three; Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. I have Wednesdays and Fridays off. Sadly, I have not made a single friend, let alone a colleague. I do converse here and then. Despite the judging looks, everyone has their own lives to worry about. There are not a lot of apprentices, too, hence that is another downside. I expected to occasionally encounter General Akamai — since September, I have seen him three times. When I go to the Base, I rarely see him. He is too busy with the captives, too busy to return the rescues to their families, too busy searching for more culprits. When I do see him, he has that fatherly smile. He asks how I have been doing, how it is like to work in his force. I tell him it is not that bad — quite draining, quite tough. I pull through.

For my days off, I devise, prepare and compose for the Azrael Admission. Shehani is correct. It is remarkably resolute to endure. For her time, there were fifty candidates, and in a month twenty dropped out. The applications are supposed to be delivered on January 7th, and the results are rewarded two years later. Yes, the Admission lasts for two years.

The Admissions consists of three exams. Consciousness — to prove my knowledge on criminological theories, how rehabilitation techniques work, how the law is, and recite every law since the law birthed. I have to memorise the most significant criminals, in order to detect the pattern in their behaviour. I work in the Behavioural Unit at Mi5, therefore revising for this exam is surprisingly handy.

The somatic exam — proving my strength. The great thing of having a father as a captain is that he taught me how to fight. He taught me which bones to crack, which sensory points to overload, how to discern the opponent's fight response in their stance and the raise of their arms. The Azrael does not care about muscles — it does connote strength, not entirely. Luke is frankly slim and tall. He is quick in his movements, that makes him inviolable.

I'm renting an apartment with Ines. I heard awful stories of living with your best friend. Ines? No, we always have fun. We go to clubs, we hang out, we cook together. There is no such thing as judgement, and I am even comfortable to walk around in jogging bottoms and a bra. Most of the time, it is that peaceful, comfortable silence which I adore. Not just with her, everyone in our group. We have gone days and weeks without talking, and randomly Jasmine would call all the way from Scotland and that bond is still there.

The dilemma: how can I study for the somatic exam? I cannot train here. I hate going to a public gym — I want space for myself. And if there is someone, I want it to be a loved one, not strangers.

Luke has a wealthy flat in London. He offers to either train there, or come to the Base (which is hours way), or both. I concluded both, though for travel it depends on how tired I am, and how free I am.

Luke wants to teach me. It is dark and gloomy, splattering in violent rain. He shoved the coffee tables and sofas against the walls to create a great space, replacing the fluffy carpets with thicker mats.

"You have to hit me."

I riposte weakly, "I am."

He is shirtless. Did I mention that I used to have a crush on him when I was little? I mean, Luke Matthews is overwhelmingly handsome. He has his father's looks. Developing a whiff and scratch of a soft stubble. Curly, dark-brown hair. Two, venomous vipers encircling his arms, their forked tongues hissing at the rounded points of his collarbone. His French suit tattooed fingers, and a large skull on his back. If I did not know about his alter ego, about Spade, that kindness in his musky-ambers is believable.

Tanner Matthews was my first kiss.

I had a crush on his older brother.

I'm dating and fucking his other brother.