The Hunters

Chapter Five

Haugen licked her pinkie finger before I grabbed her wrists, wrestling back as I tried to protect my ear from her sloppy drool. "Enough, you two!" Larsen barked, and we both paused before climbing to our feet. Haugen wiped her finger on my pants behind my back, and I struggled to hold back a chuckle beneath Larsen's irritated attention. "I'm going to the office to take care of this nonsense. You two better behave while I'm gone. Is that possible?"

"No," I responded honestly, before grabbing the trays in one hand. "I'll take these to the mess hall, then hit the gym. My joints are still locked from that flight. Does that separation work for you?"

She nodded firmly before warning me, "You'd be going alone, but I trust you alone more than those two. Keep an eye out. If anyone messes with you, give them a prostate exam with your fist."

"Affirmative." I slipped my winter gear back on before following her out of the barracks. Larsen walked beside me, glaring at a group of soldiers as they walked to their own barracks. Leaning closer to her height as we walked, I asked, "Can he actually enforce punishments?"

"Oh, for sure, but I'm not allowing it," she responded sternly. "I really will pull the plug on this operation if he thinks he can get away with mistreating us. We're here voluntarily; our compensation for our assistance is experience. Experience that isn't worth being assaulted and raped because some old geezer doesn't care about those with vaginas. Admiral Bakke will agree with our decision."

"I know she'll eat that old fart alive," I added, and we flashed each other a smile beneath our masks before separating. She walked on while I ducked into the mess hall, seeing that the crowd had dispersed in my absence. Dropping the trays off at the cleaning station, I ignore the gazes of the few soldiers as they are quietly at a table on the far side of the room.

I squared my shoulders and pushed down my anxiety, heading to the gym next door. The gym consisted of a wall of organized weight racks and a large machine in the center of the room for barbell exercises. Cardio machines lined the remaining wall, and jugs of water were stacked beside the doorway.

There was one person already here, throwing a heavily loaded barbell in the air: König. Most people exercise in the morning, leaving the gym empty in the evening. His heavy gear had been removed, revealing khaki cargo pants that were skin-tight in areas that made my mouth water. His long-sleeve black compression shirt further revealed his breathtaking strength. He grunted with his movement before his eyes widened as he spotted me, nearly dropping the bar in surprise.

Sucking in a deep breath at the sound of his grunt, I turned away from him, stripping my coat and hat to hang them on one of the hangers by the door. He made a strange noise behind me while I adjusted my hair, and I stiffened in confusion. Shaking my head, I did a quick warmup on the treadmill before setting up the opposite side of the barbell machine.

König hesitated as he shifted to start his next set, observing my movements as he likely calculated what I was lifting. Preparing my breathing, I began the deadlifts, trying to minimize the noises I made. Stepping away from the machine, he reached into a plastic bin, pulling out a weight support belt that matched the one around his muscular torso.

I set the bar down when I finished my set, and he offered the belt to me wordlessly. "Thanks," I muttered nervously, strapping the belt in place before returning to my exercise. He hovered beside me as I lifted once again, seeming nervous as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Problem, König?"

He seemed surprised that I used his codename, releasing a nervous breath before apologizing anxiously, "S-sorry."

I continued lifting, switching movements as needed, while he remained rigid and focused on me. "If you're asking if I need a spotter, I don't," I informed him. "I went light today, so I wouldn't need one."

I lied; I didn't go light. I was pushing myself in an attempt to impress him. Nodding nervously, he apologized once again before returning to his exercise. I felt his gaze occasionally shifting my way, his movements slow and precise. Analyzing his behavior, I wondered if he was shy. Was that why he stuttered when he spoke? And he so rarely spoke?

I finished with the barbell and began using free weights, bending over the bench as I shifted with the exercise. König cleaned and packed everything he used away, removing his weight belt as he glanced my way. "N-night," he muttered on his way out, and I glanced at the doorway.

"Forgot your coat," I called, and he sucked back inside, grabbing the coat before disappearing from view. I sighed, muttering to myself in Norwegian, "I hate how much I like the strong, silent type. Dang, did he lift a ton? If Ghost is equally quiet, I'm in trouble."