Bright-blue eyes shaded by tendrils of long, black hair hamper my entrance. Kai leans against the light metal door of the women's locker room. His smile curves into a smirk as he watches my approach with sniper trained eyes. On him it's more endearing than worrisome.

"Never seen you before, then you show up two days in a row? This must be some kind of cosmic miracle." I laugh at my own joke.

Kai pivots aside to let me pass. "I wanted to find out how you were holding up."

"Couldn't be better, actually." I sweep past, hold up my PAHLM at the reader on the wall, and wait for the door to slide open. When I enter the room, one glance around tells me the place is empty. We're totally alone.

I grab fresh clothes from my locker and stare at him expectantly. "You know, you're in the girls' room," I say with a limp smile, hoping he realizes I'm joking with him.

He laughs lightly and sits on the bench, picking up a towel I had just dropped and wraps it around his fist a few times in purposelessness. "What do you think they see in us?"

I lean against the lockers. "Honestly? No idea. I wondered, too."

The pause drags as we rummage around in our own thoughts.

After a few seconds, I fill the awkward silence. I think aloud while grabbing the remaining shower items from inside the locker. "How many of your commanding officers did you see at the table last night? I saw none. I didn't see Sarge, and I sure as hell didn't see any of our majors there either. Maybe she picked the people who have the biggest reasons to leave."

My voice echoes through my locker, and I hope it sounds a little stronger than what I hear.

"Yeah, maybe. But, whatever it is they saw, I'm sure you'll live up to it. I've heard things about you, Captain Janika Lorn—psychotic Reaper, maniacal rule-breaker, vigilante nutjob." He steps behind me, the heat from his body warming the air around me. "Really, really, really good things about you. Your reputation goes way beyond your own battalion."

His breath tickles my neck, pushing against the small hairs as he continues to talk. I'm more focused on that breath than any of his bullshit flattery.

"I've always been . . . an admirer of yours, I guess. It's lame, I know, but I just wanted you t'know."

The heat of his words pours a chill down my arm despite the heat permeating from the shower steam still wafting in the air. His body presses behind me. His lips hover inches from my ear.

"I'm sure I'll see you again." He turns to leave.

His boots tap to the exit. Behind me, I hear the locker room door slide open, but I don't hear the soft rap of his departure. Out of the corner of my eye, I find Kai stopped at the doorway, face-to-chest with none other than Dean.

"Is he bothering you, Nika?" Dean enunciates right over the top of Kai's head as if speaking over an insignificant piece of the furniture in the room.

Kai is nothing to scoff at. Though he is shorter, his arms and chest are large. Scars have yet to mar his face. His ragged, black whiskers draw thick shadows over his jaw. His eyes are the deepest cerulean I've ever seen. He might be what I want if I were ever to be given a choice in the matter. But I guess I'll never know.

"No. He was just leaving." I return my attention to arranging my locker. I look at my PAHLM and panic. I have to be at The Sink in less than thirty minutes for my shift. At this point, their little dog-and-pony show needs to hit the Rotunda. "And so should you, Dean. I have to go." I fling my shirt over my head.

Dean steps between me and Kai. His gargantuan body blocks me.

A brief moment resonates between the two men—Dean glowers at Kai, and Kai scowls at Dean. A poignant message is being sent and received—dangerous and primal from the outside, nothing our PALHMs could transmit or translate. Something beyond binary forms and spoken words. Silent and significant. I don't have time for it.

Whatever Dean's eyes are saying, I can't interpret.

But behind the massive man, Kai responds with an unmistakable look. We'll see about that.

Kai smirks as he exits. "Yeah, I was just leaving. Anyway, Janika, I wanted to say I hope we get paired together. We'd be the team to beat. That's for sure. Till tomorrow." His eyes linger over me.

At his departure, I strip and jump in the shower.

Dean strides just out of reach of the water's spray and jerks his thumb at the door. "That guy? Really?"

"What?" I sputter, my mouth full of water with a flavorful hint of rust and soap. "He's not doing anything wrong. We were only talking."

"Oh?"

"Not like I have to inform you of my private conversations or anything, but we were actually talking about how we found it interesting some of our COs weren't in the room last night."

Dean contemplates this data in silence.

What could have been an explosive moment in my life ended in nothing more than weak steam. I feel like absorbing the pressure, filling my bones with the force of the thick fog. I'm full and ready to burst. Unlike the bursting I felt when Kai's chest grazed my back, this bursting erupts toward the source.

Dean.

Why can't he mind his own business? I rinse the suds out of my hair and wrench off the spigot. Realizing I shouldn't take out my frustration on the ancient plumbing of the locker room, I tap it gently in apology.

Dean's eyes glaze unfocused in the far corner of the showers where a patch of long, hairs have congregated.

Why is he even here if he doesn't want to talk? I wrap my towel around my body and shamble to the metal benches.

"I don't trust him."

"You don't trust him, or you don't like him?"

"Is there a difference?"

I think about this. "I trusted you. I don't anymore, but I don't hate you."

He turns around to frown at me as I rub the water out of my hair. I bet that stings. Good.

"I don't trust him, and I don't like him. He's up to something."

At this I practically laugh in his face. "We're on the same side. We're joining this mission for the exact same purpose. You've never met Kai before. What could he have possibly done to pluck out your indignation already?"

"He hasn't done anything yet, Janika, but I can tell he will."

"What do you think he can possibly do? If you hadn't noticed, I'm more than capable of defending myself, thank you very—"

"Oh, really?" He interrupts loud enough to startle me. "You can take care of yourself? You, who is also flagrantly flirting with him, leading him on, making him believe he has a chance with you when you're already contracted. You think you are able to fight off anyone who comes near you? But what about fighting yourself? What happens then when you are the one pushing it?"

I stare open-mouthed.

"How will you stop yourself from going too far because when you two are behind the mats in the training room and the Maroon Coats come sweeping down with the rod—"

With my adrenaline pounding furiously through my veins, I lower my gaze and glare right at him—angry for bringing it up after everything we'd heard the night before.

"Don't you dare for a second think I give a shit about what the HHP wants anymore," I start, my voice low and muffled through the echoing drops of water hitting the tiles.

I stand in the middle of the room with my dripping hair, my constricting fists, my arching spine tensed to pull the pin of my self-made grenade.

"This mission buys my freedom. With this, I'm guaranteed a way out. Don't you even bother to think about the contract or what it means for us. There is no us, Dean. There may have been, but you utterly messed that up. Now there is no chance. Not now, not in five years, not ever."

"Janika, you—"

"No, I don't want to hear your excuses anymore. I've had to endure them on repeat for the last three years, and I'm sick of hearing you say you're sorry or that you didn't mean for things to end up like this. But I don't have to listen to you anymore. We'll be on separate ships, and I'll never, ever have to hear about the fucking HHP ever again."

"You didn't read the mission contract, did you?"

Caught in the headlights, feeling more vulnerable than I had felt that night with the open coat, I decide to not make myself look like an idiot and hold my tongue. No, I hadn't read any more of the paper than what my sleepless mind was able to ingest before Dean came knocking on my door at zero-three hundred in the morning.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Being part of this mission doesn't excuse you from previous obligations. The HHP's contract is still in full effect. We must have the first child within the next sixteen months, Nika. Sixteen months. Which is why you should read the paperwork before signing. Do you really want to be in full combat while pregnant?" His eyes drop to the middle of the steel floor where water swivels down the drain.

I bet he can hear my gears ticking at full speed. His words register, but there is no meaning behind them. Pregnant? Combat? This does not compute.

My limited patience vanishes. I yank my clothes over my body. My tangled hair drips down my back, soaking my shirt and my pants. Everything sticks to my skin. At this point, I just want to bolt away from this harbinger of doom. I charge past him through the door.

I never want to see him again.