Elora’s POV
My gaze dropped to the golden box cradled in his arms, then climbed back to his eyes.
“I told you to be here on time.
You’re late,” he said, flat.
“I’m not late!” I shot back, checking my watch.
I was three minutes late.
“You’re just early.”
He said nothing.
Just leveled me with that judgmental stare.
Making the Elite Team wasn’t a given for me—but Varek had far more riding on it.
He was gunning for captain, and thanks to me he now had a three-minute delay on the record.
Which, I was fairly sure, had crept to four.
“She’s here,” Declan said, coming to my defense with a look at Varek.
Varek grunted.
“Good thing you’re not a warrior.
Healing suits you,” he spat.
“Your condition’s tragic.
You’re breathing like a pig.”
I called him every filthy name in my head, aching to fire something back—but I didn’t have the breath or the nerve.
Not if I still wanted a shot at this team.
Varek fit a key to the gate and unlocked it, leaving me to wonder how in the world I was going to survive a whole night with him.
It was going to be a disaster.
We’d been walking what felt like forever, though it had really only been about twenty minutes.
No one was talking.
The silence was killing me, my legs had gone numb, and I couldn’t see a thing.
The only sound was our footsteps crushing through the leaves.
The box had to be delivered all the way across the river, and we weren’t allowed to shift unless we were in real danger.
No shortcuts.
No tricks.
Just a long, mind-numbing march.
Varek and Garrett strode ahead, caring about no one but themselves, while Declan was decent enough to hang back at my side.
Even so, I struggled to match his pace.
Why did I have to do this with three men and their absurdly long legs, while I was, well… short.
Varek glanced back at me out of nowhere, eyes raking me up and down, and I just knew some garbage was about to fall out of his mouth.
“Cardio, Four-eyes,” he said.
“You can’t always lean on your wolf.”
Furious, I waited until he faced forward again, then mouthed his words back at him.
I had never once leaned on my wolf.
Not ever.
He had no idea what he was talking about.
Declan let out a soft laugh.
“Sorry,” I whispered to him.
“He’s your prince and everything, but he is really getting on my nerves.”
“Don’t apologize.” He smiled.
Then, without warning, he lifted my backpack off my shoulders and carried it in one hand.
The instant the weight left me, relief flooded through.
I glanced down at my legs and realized I was moving so much faster.
“You really didn’t have to do that.”
Declan shrugged.
“I don’t mind.
This is nothing.” He grinned.
“You should see what Varek makes me haul back home.”
“Yes, but your back—”
“I’ve got it, beautiful,” he cut in, winking.
I chuckled.
“Thanks.”
Declan was one of those people who was simply, effortlessly good.
He didn’t have to prove himself to anyone.
He did it anyway.
We walked on a while longer until, out of nowhere, Varek stopped and brought a hand to his head.
“Ky, you alright?” Declan asked, concern threading his voice.