A Crow in the Meadows

(ty for reading, the corner star welcomes you)

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be fixed to be in line with the new edits)

C5H10

Cyclopentane.

Cycloalkane. Colorless liquid. Blowing agent for insulation. Highly flammable, can cause respiratory arrest.

_________________________________

For all our sakes, I'll keep the next two weeks brief. Unless you've got the patience for another several essays of my complaints and dashed dreams.

Exactly. Start rolling.

February came for me in the same way a flash flood would: cataclysmic, unwarranted, and necessarily conspicuous. Living away from the Splinter, cutting my time up between classwork and Corvus and surviving both, managing the incessant intrusion of Mercy, feigning numbers in my bank account, ignoring the numbers above my head, was a far more difficult balance to maintain than I'd anticipated.

No one seemed keen on making it easier, either.

"Dinner." Zoe pushed open my door with a smile. She wiggled her fingers in a greeting, and I looked up from my stack of genetic code diagrams and nucleic acid models just long enough for her to go, "Oh. Are you dying?"

"Efficiently." I turned my attention back to the papers. "I'll eat later."

"Fuel for the brain."

"I need morphine more than food," I sighed. "I'll eat later."

"You can't skip another dinner." Diego popped his head in, sending me a frown. He pointed at me. "It's taco night. You're gonna miss taco night, in broad daylight?"

"It's 7PM."

"Can't hole yourself up in here forever, cobayo. Gonna have to face the crows one way or another!" he announced. "I'll drag you outta here myself."

"Do it," Wynter said from behind him. "He can't avoid us forever, I thought this was mandatory. Something about a pamphlet?"

"There's no pamphlet." Kane dragged everyone from the doorway. His glasses were still perched on his nose, giving away his own studies prior to this encounter. He glanced at me, his eyes twice as large like a caricature of himself as he looked at me through the lenses. For a moment, the sight was so out of character, I could almost laugh. "Come on. Put a jacket on, it's cold, let's go."

"I'm not—"

"You've got five."

He turned away without another word. I tilted my head back, and sighed. But I pushed the papers aside and got to my feet, snagging my one good hoodie on my way out.

Wynter raised a brow. "Are you following directions right now? In broad daylight?"

I shook my head. I brushed past her. "Before the tacos get cold."

Nia let a secret slip barely a week later.

"A baby crow, out in the wild." Nia slid onto the bench beside me, her bag of lunch sharing a similar leg with my two packs of gummy bears as my own. "Are you alone? Isn't that against the rules?"

"How do you know that?"

Nia shrugged. She reached into her bag and withdrew a wax paper-adorned turkey club. "How is it? You seem intact." She gestured at the large bandage over my cheek. "For the most part."

"For the most part," I agreed. "I've got practice in ten."

"Have they raced you yet?"

"No," I sighed. "Not once."

Nia grimaced. "Jeez, still?" she snorted. "I knew you were a rookie, Yun, but I didn't know you were that bad."

"Your encouragement is gonna bring me to tears, Nia." I tossed a gummy bear into my mouth. "Turns out I'm the worst anomaly that's crossed Corvus's path since its creation."

"Says who?"

"The mother crow," I muttered, and Nia pushed my arm.

"Give yourself a chance," she argued. "You've gotten this far. The season starts soon, too. They'll have to put you on the track at some point."

"At some point," I agreed bitterly.

"King might just be being cautious," she tried. "Corvus is still recovering from what happened a few years ago."

That made me pause. "What happened a few years ago?"

Nia did a double take. Her voice lowered. "Poppy," she said. "Wilder? Their old captain."

It was a foreign entity to me and it must've shown. Nia gaped. "Yun, you're kidding. You don't know—"

Her phone shrieked, breaking the conversation to bits. She sank away to answer it, and when she returned, could give me nothing but a, "I have to go, something came up for my group project and we're meeting in half an hour."

I snagged her sleeve. "Wait," I pressed. "What about their old captain?"

She hesitated. "Look it up," she implored. "You should know."

She left me with that, and nothing more.

And, so on.

Despite Kane's looming threat from the first round of midnight practice, we'd found some semblance of middle ground between us in fleeting gaps. Nothing impressive, but something neutral.

"Here." Zahir handed me the box of protein bars on the bench during a break. "Pass it around."

I passed it by to Kane. When Zahir frowned, I said, "I'm allergic to cashews."

Kane took it and passed it on as well. At my frown, he said, "Me, too."

I shrugged. "Bad taste anyway."

He hummed. "Too soft."

"Flavorless."

"Not missing much."

"Nothing."

We nodded. He pushed it towards Wynter.

It was worth noting that Omegas didn't bounce back as fast as Alphas or Betas, as our metabolic rate was far closer to humans' and our regenerative ability was thinned by mediocre stem cells. Racing had been made, dominated, and molded by lycans for that key reason: the violent brutality of the sport was a pale match for their inhuman healing rate. It was also a key reason why Omegas had become extinct in said sport.

The biology didn't take long to catch up with me. I hit the middle of February before the consequences of daily practice and weekly training struck my body with urgent need. In a different world, I'd buck up and face Ramos. But it would take a lot more bruises to push me into that world.

I slumped onto the concrete of the track, my breath thin as vellum. My ribs ached like an invisible fist was smashing into them over and over and over. Fire infested my blood, racing down my arms and legs, cloying at my throat and ears. A vise closed around my body—open, close, tight, tighter.

"We're not done," Kane said from ahead. He walked towards me. "Get up."

I didn't reply. I didn't have the wherewithal.

Kane waited. "Are you done?" I closed my eyes. Kane sighed. "Your silent treatment is not an answer."

"I'm done," I gasped out, and I hated the gravel in it, the scratch of desperation and dampness of exhaustion that I knew he and every other Alpha or Beta could never imagine feeling for more than a second. "I'm done, okay? I'm done."

Kane was quiet. But that wasn't anything new. Neither was the endless stretch of time, where I was sure he had left me behind to rot on my own time. But then there was the crack of a system shutting down, the blackout coating the Corvidae, the ending. The doneness.

A hand closed around my shoulders and hauled me to my feet. I stumbled. Another hand caught me. Not with compassion, but more with exasperated expectation.

"Stop," I snapped. "I didn't—"

"You're done," he agreed. "Come on. Before you keel over completely."

I'm not a man of enough humility to tell the rest.

So on.

The morning after that practice came with an excruciating, skeletal ache not yet known to a living body. Even my eyelids seemed to creak in protest at blinking awake.

It took me an extra ten minutes just to draw my feet out of bed, shuffling over the hardwood to head for the kitchen. I was fully prepared to abandon my 8AM with Kane, as no lecture was worth the effort it'd take to get myself there. But fate wasn't that lenient.

"You're up."

I looked up. Kane stood in a merino sweater and pants meant for the outside world, a pair of obnoxiously red high-tops breaking the sickly dawn in two with its intensity. I glanced from the shoes, to his face, to a spoon in his hand, to a pot the spoon had just dipped into. An aroma registered with it.

I said, "Are you cooking?"

Kane shrugged. "Something like it."

"It's seven AM."

"Seven-twenty." Like it made a difference in his insanity. Kane pushed a bowl at me. Something whiter than porridge sloshed in it, and I cocked my head. At my confusion, Kane said, "Yachae juk."

I blinked. "What?"

"What?" he replied, like I was playing dumb. "Never had juk?"

"What is that?"

Kane stared at me, like trying to decipher if I was kidding. When he decided I wasn't, he frowned. "You've never had juk," he said decidedly. I shook my head. "It's porridge. Good if you're sick."

"I'm not sick."

"You look a cough away from death," he replied. "Whatever you are, fix it."

Despite the caustic words, the aroma was admittedly inviting. I swallowed my pride and sat down at the island, taking the bowl with a hesitant hand.

"Take some painkillers, we've got class," he said.

"Aren't you a third year? You actually go to your eight AMs?"

"No," he said plainly. "But you need to and you won't go if someone isn't dragging you by the hood, so we're going."

"Spare me."

"You should go see Ramos."

I stiffened. "I'll be fine."

"It's not really a suggestion."

"I forgot you don't really do those," I sighed.

"Not with you," he retorted, and I made a face. "Go see her. She's there for a reason."

"And there she'll stay. I'll be fine, it's nothing I can't bounce back from. With your witch's potion—" I held up the juk. "—what could stop me?"

"Stop talking before I regret trying to help you." He pushed a spoon at me, and it was the only thing that startled me out of echoing help over and over in my head. "Start eating."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I said, "Thank you."

Kane turned his back to me. "Eat."

By the time I was finished, Kane had cleaned up any trace of the porridge, and had his bag over his shoulder, his red shoe already over the threshold.

I never went to see Ramos, but it worked in some way, because we never spoke of the encounter again.

And, so on.

The first match came in the first week of March.

Diego broke the news first, naturally. He came bounding towards us after practice, helmet in his hand.

"Hey, cobayo," he said. "You just might get your wish."

I frowned. "What?"

Zoe caught on first. She shot to her feet. "When is it? Where is it? Who are we up against?"

"Reel it back," Wynter said, then turned to Diego. "But, since she asked."

Diego beamed. He opened his mouth, but Zahir came up behind him to hook an arm around his mouth and muffle whatever answer he would've offered up.

"What's he talking about?" I asked.

Zahir gave him a look, but then turned an easy smile on us. "First match of the season is next week," he said. "First match for the rookies."

I gaped. It was expected, what with February ending, but it didn't make my heart beat any slower. The very words were mosquitos buzzing under my skin.

"Which was supposed to be revealed at dinner," Rosalie said from behind, helmet in hand, blonde waves frizzing with helmet head and sweat in her Dutch braids. She elbowed Diego. "Is the word 'secret' just not in your reality?"

He pulled Zahir's arm off. "And never will be," he replied with a wink. "Let me tell them, come on, it's such a good one."

"We're going to race?" I said.

They all glanced at me. Meredith bounced over to us, wiping beads of heat from her brows. At my question, she slowed.

Kenzo was less forgiving at my right. "No."

"Kenzo," Meredith chastised.

"No?" I repeated.

"No," he affirmed.

"We aren't," I said, my excitement dulling to dread, "or I'm not?"

"I hear talking." Kane approached the group, his eyes cold as they swept over Corvus. "Why do I hear talking?"

"Someone buy him earplugs," I muttered.

Kane said, "Since Diego already spilled his guts—"

"Partial guts," he argued. "At most, my left kidney." I grimaced.

"—we'll tell you three now," he finished. "First match is next Friday, we're leaving Thursday morning since Coach has to meet with one of the reps there about us competing considering the last time we did, someone broke someone else's entire damn leg."

Rosalie shot an acidic look to Kenzo. Kenzo shrugged. "He recovered."

"This team has guaranteed me death by thirty," Rosalie sighed.

"But where?" Zoe pressed.

"Las Vegas, Nevada!" Diego burst, then grinned, pleased. "Make that two kidneys."

I got to my feet. "We're coming with."

"Obviously," Kane said.

"So, are we racing?"

Kane cocked his head at me, like the question was not only irritating, but exhausting. I waited for the answer, but I knew it wouldn't come. Still, when he turned on his heel to go, it didn't make me any less frustrated.

"Just be ready by 7:30 that morning, or you can find your own way there," he said. "We'll talk about it closer to the match."

"Where are you going?" Zoe asked.

"I've got a meeting with the board," he said, and every muscle in my body seized up. If it were up to me, I would've said no.

I pursed my lips and said nothing, my heart in my stomach.

"Will we?" Wynter asked. "Race, that is."

Corvus glanced amongst each other. Meredith gave a sheepish grin, and shrugged.

"We'll see," she replied.

Kenzo got to his feet to head after Kane, and said, "That means no."

Ergo:

Las Vegas, or bust.

_______________________

The Birdhouse was relatively idle so early on Thursday, most of its usuals peacefully sleeping in and being far too occupied with assuring they were functioning human beings for the day to bother frequenting the town square. Most shops were opening up, their signs still turned to the SORRY WE'RE CLOSED side or their neon OPEN props still dark. Bakeries were busy shuffling in the last batches of bread to the windows, trinkets shops unlocking their glass cases full of knickknacks, retail stores folding fresh pairs of jeans that would be inevitably ruined by careless patrons. The air was damp with nascent dawn, cold dew, and the first day of March.

Nancy's was the only restaurant open other than a few coffee shops and a militant Chinese fusion place down the block. The most alive thing inside might've been the pixie that served us, her golden skin a pulsating sight with a fang-tooth grin to match.

It certainly wasn't us.

Rosalie snapped her fingers in front of Kenzo's face for the third time that hour, his omelet still only half-finished in front of him. "Finish your food," she said.

Kenzo said, "Mm."

"Are you listening?"

"Mm."

For all of Corvus's chaos, they were nothing if not consistent. Their seating pattern was an unshakeable habit, holding up from the bus ride to the booth arrangement. I would've put up a fit for sake of revolt, but even I was too tired from the early hour to play instigator, leaving me slumped against the booth with Kane at my side.

"Why'd you pick such an ungodly hour? I need my beauty sleep," Diego groaned through a mouthful of rosemary potatoes. "I think I'm gonna pass out on the way to the damn van."

"Told you not to get something so high in carbs," Kane snapped. He was on his third cup of coffee by now. "Fall asleep on the way. It's a five-hour drive."

"It's a what?" Zoe said, and slouched over her waffles, leaning on Wynter. "I'll never survive."

"It'll be like a road trip," Meredith said, who might've been the only one of us that managed cheer without the need of unholy amounts of caffeine. "And it'll be a good bonding experience between us and the underclassmen."

Kane and I scoffed in unison. I glared. He glared back.

Wynter raised a brow. "That sounds hopeful."

"And a good way to learn how to get along," Meredith added, giving Kane a significant look, to which he ignored in favor of draining his coffee. "This is the first match of the season, so we should be as in unison as possible. Right, King?"

Kane said, "Yes."

I bit my tongue, and looked away.

Zahir frowned across the table to me, though it was hard to see his hazel eyes through his drooping eyelids. It seemed even he and his usual gregariousness could barely withstand the morning.

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" he asked. "Coffee can't be your whole breakfast."

I shrugged. "It's nature's nectar," I said, which was partially true, the missing half being it was the only thing I could afford as their refills were free.

"Tell me you're kidding," Rosalie exclaimed. "How are you a D1 athlete that doesn't eat breakfast?"

Wynter looked me up and down, and made a move as if to measure my height. "I think your nectar is bunk," she snickered.

"This is genetics," I snapped. "And this nectar is delicious."

Kane shoved his veggie sandwich over to me and snagged my mug from my hand. "Your 'nectar' strips your bone calcium," he said, and copied Wynter's gesture. "Which I don't think you can afford."

"This is vertically disadvantaged discrimination," I announced. "What kind of bigoted team are you running here?"

"Not a disadvantaged one," he said. "Eat the rest."

"Maybe if you eat more, you'll grow," Wynter added. "There's still time."

"You witch."

"Witch? You look like a pink poodle runt."

"I'm a pretty poodle, at least."

"Better bite your tongue, Yun, or these pancakes are gonna end up on your face."

"Do it."

"Don't do it, he can't handle it," Zoe said.

Diego hummed. "I don't think he could. And why ruin that pretty hair?"

"Diego thinks I'm pretty," I said, then raised a brow. "How pretty?"

He held up his hands. "Hey, hey, that's out of my jurisdiction." He gave a smug grin to Rosalie. "Why don't you ask Rosie?"

"I'll stab you," she said, holding up her syrup-soaked fork.

"I've got a poll going, Rosalie," I said.

She pointed it at me. "I'll stab you, too."

I glanced at Kane. "I've got a poll going. What do you think?"

"About her stabbing you? I don't think you wanna know. Whether you're pretty? I don't get paid enough to answer that."

I considered that. "Kane thinks I'm pretty. Zoe, write this down."

Kane put his hand in front of my face like just seeing me took too much energy. "Just eat the damn sandwich."

Meredith closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "A great bonding experience," she repeated, and Zahir patted her shoulder.

I shoveled the last of Kane's sandwich into my mouth and snagged my mug back from his hand to take a swig, to which he looked wholly unhappy about.

"Superlative," I agreed. "Can we go?"

They looked between each other. Meredith relaxed and nodded.

"Great idea," she said.

It took me the least amount of time to pack since my belongings were about a fourth of everyone else's. The spare time was spent staring into the laptop and phone from Mercy.

Leaving the devices in the Talon was a terrible idea, but it was debatable whether taking it with was even worse. Stealing was only one issue. If Mercy happened to contact me while I was away, and I missed it, it was guaranteed she'd find me in a far less conspicuous manner. The last thing I needed was Corvus and the Bengals in the same vicinity.

I looked between the two on my bed for another minute before I decided on shoving my phone deep into the bottom of my duffel and pushing my laptop beneath my mattress. I could only pray the phone wouldn't ring.

I yanked on my long-sleeve, and zipped up my duffel. A few thumps outside my door said the rest of the guys were busying themselves with getting ready to go down, so I headed out to join them, locking my door for good measure on my way out.

Kenzo leaned against a leather rolling suitcase, seemingly still catching up on lost sleep while Zahir dragged his Rimowa across the living room to stand beside him. He waved at me with a grin.

"Hey," he said, then raised a brow at my duffel. "Is that all you've got?"

"We're only there for two days," I said.

"Two days in Las Vegas is just enough to fill the rest of this suitcase," Diego yelled from his room. He wheeled out his Bellagio and patted its face to emphasize its half-hollowness. "Everyone knows Vegas is only good for two things, cobayo. Spending money, and winning it."

Kenzo pulled his head up, staring at Diego, unimpressed. "Just spending, in your case," he said.

"Don't be mean, Kenzo. It's a five-hour drive. I'll get plenty of time to annoy you."

Kenzo let his head fall back to ignore that. I pushed pink and purple bangs away from my eyes to look up at Diego.

"Is Kane not coming? Is he sick? Did he sleep in?" I said eagerly. "Maybe took the train there instead?"

"Maybe busy packing the snacks you all asked for?" Kane snapped as he emerged from his own bedroom, setting a Triomphe bag down on the couch. He held a separate paper bag already filled with a variety of snack packages, and headed for the kitchen to throw in energy drinks and protein bars from the fridge. "Including you and your sugar-saturated coffees?" He held up two bottled coffees for emphasis.

I shrugged. "Nature's nectar."

"No wonder you're built like a straw," Kane sighed.

"No wonder you're built like a mother hen," I muttered.

"I heard that."

"You gotta be careful about what you say in these walls, Yun," Diego warned, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "King is always listening. No matter what you do."

"I heard that, too."

"Oy vey," I sighed.

That was everyone's cue to head out and we grabbed our things. The girls were waiting by a large black van parked in front of the Talon, Edwards chatting with Jasmin Ramos next to them. My blood froze a little and my fingers went numb around my duffel. I thought of my phone buried in my shirts.

Edwards was dressed for comfort, her hair free from her hat in a discombobulated bun on her head, her Avaldi hoodie hugging her frame over jeans and Timberlands. She raised a brow at us. "We're going for two days."

"Two lucrative days," Diego replied, and Edwards sighed.

I shoved my duffel in as far to the side as I could to yank it out faster later. Ramos caught my eye for a moment, an almost pleading look swimming in them. I clenched my jaw, scooting to the other side just to put some feet between us.

It was futile.

"Echo," Ramos said, heading for me. "I was wondering if we could talk."

I glanced at Kane. His face was still blank, eyes focused on Corvus's conversations, but I couldn't tell if that was an indication of where his attention was angled. I pursed my lips.

"It's all right," I tried, putting my hands up between us. "No need."

Ramos frowned. "I think we should."

"I think it'd be better for both of us not to."

"I won't ask about—"

"No."

I didn't give her the chance to try again. I turned on my heel and weaved into the nest, blocking myself off from her. Kenzo's eyes followed me, not curious and not accusatory, just watchful. In some ways, it was even more unnerving.

Kane gave me a look like he wanted to say something, but decided against it in favor of, "Let's get on the road."

Coach clapped her hands in agreement. "Faster we move, faster we get there—"

"Faster we take to the tables!" Diego said.

"—faster we start practicing," she corrected with a pointed look. "I see any of you at a table during this trip, I'll skin you alive right then and there. Got it?"

"Got it," we hurried.

She opened the door for us to pile inside. To my dread, the seating arrangement held up even in the van.

Ramos was, to my gratitude, taking her own car behind us, leaving Meredith, Diego, and Kenzo in the three seats at the back, with Kane and I in the next pair of seats, Rosalie and Zoe ahead, Zahir and Wynter in the first row, and Coach in the driver's seat. The seats were connected, leaving everyone elbow to elbow, and Coach's enviable passenger seat filled with nothing but her own luggage and our hopes.

"Listen here," she called. "I pull over for dire bathroom breaks and life-threatening medical emergencies only. Someone tells me to pull over for a frappuccino, I'll throw you out the window. No, cool rocks in the distance are not reasons to pull over, Cruz, put your hand down." He put his hand down. She sighed. "All right, any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one," I said.

"Here we go," Wynter murmured.

"Can I change seats?" I asked.

Kane raised his hand. "I'd also like to change seats."

"We can do that?" Meredith asked.

Rosalie raised her hand. "I can hear Kenzo's music through his headphones. It's not good music."

Kenzo raised his hand at that. "There's a wasp sitting in the backseat," he called, and Rosalie lunged for him.

Zahir said, "I'm hungry."

"We just ate," Kane said.

"Hey, Z's right, I'm hungry. Hand over those snacks, King." Kane handed him the bag. Diego made a face. "Did you buy organic fruit roll-ups? Are you a sadist? A serial killer? A vegan?"

I raised my hand. "Another question, Coach, who eats organic fruit roll-ups?"

"I do," Kane snapped. "And you're closer to vegan than any of us."

"Make that two wasps in the backseat."

"Make it a wasp and a gnat."

Zoe raised her hand. "Who gets the AUX?"

"Me."

"Would all of you shut up?" Edwards yelled. "What is this, a counsel meeting? I meant real questions, for Christ's sake." She rubbed her temples. "You're all lucky you're contractually bound."

I cleared my throat. "So about the seating—"

"What did I just say?"

"What seating? No seating. No seats. Floating. Like clouds," I ratified. I paused. "Hey, Coach, I got a poll going, by the way—"

Wynter swung her arm around from the front and slapped her hand over my mouth. She said, "I'll wire that mouth shut, kid."

"Thanks, Wynter," they chorused.

I took that as a no.

Edwards muttered something to herself about getting a nanny, and began the five hour endeavor to Las Vegas, Nevada.

The peace was short-lived.

I had sat with Kane before, but I'd never been left with only Kane to talk to. However, the van had been made with a wide berth of space for those going in and out through the doors. It left the black leather seats pushed into the sides and no one staggered enough to see anything but the back of the seats in front of them. There were always the tinted windows to gaze out from, but they'd been a bit too darkened for anything beyond it to be enjoyable to look at anyway.

My options were slim.

Everyone had their places carved out for them within the group. I had taken certain refrain from Corvus for practical reasons; saying too little was always a safer option than saying too much. Corvus filled any and all silences with their unruly humor and anarchic conversations anyway, no room for me to slip out or slip in. Kane observed the group like watching a racing match: waiting for the first thing to go right, for the first thing to go wrong, and what to do when it did.

I sighed. "People couldn't just go in separate cars?" Because I knew they had them.

"Best if we go and leave together," Kane replied.

"What's that? The buddy system? Were all conjoined at some point or other?"

"Are you just here to be a pretty face in the team photo or something?" he sighed. "Can't we just have a civil conversation?"

I blinked. I turned to face him, although there wasn't much space to go without my elbow digging into his arm. He didn't look at me, but he tilted his head to the side, waiting for whatever I'd say.

"We're coming with you to the match," I said, "but we're not racing, are we? I'm not, at least."

Kane didn't seem surprised. "You joined this team, you come to the matches. It's not rocket science."

"Am I racing or not?"

"Not everything in racing is about racing," he snapped. "We've been over this. You're not stupid."

"No, I'm not," I gritted. "But you could at least tell it to me straight. You decided it, after all."

Kane finally turned to look at me. I was at once grateful and regretful at garnering the attention. "No," he finally said. "You're not racing."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "But Zoe, Wynter," I said, keeping my voice low. "They're racing."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They're reliable," he said plainly.

"I'm not."

"You seem like a loose cannon constantly waiting to blow. And you're not ready to get on a track."

"They haven't raced once with you all. How is that fair?"

"Is this Girl Scouts?" he sighed. "This isn't about being 'fair', it's about what's good for Corvus."

"You said you weren't recruiting benchwarmers."

"I could put you out on that track and watch you break every bone in your body, humiliate yourself and this team, and lose this match if that's what you want," Kane snapped, tone like icicles. "But that's a press issue, and frankly, gets us nowhere." He rubbed his temples. "I'm trying to help you. This isn't news. Stop making enemies where there are none."

When his gaze turned back to face front, I knew I'd already lost. I glanced at the clock. Half an hour had passed. My mind would explode. Blood and gray matter and veins. POP! Spew.

I slumped in my seat. There was a childish anger in my throat, the kind that was more upset than it was furious. I could only accept the defeat with a bitter taste. Kane was betting on time that I didn't have, that I couldn't afford to lose. All I could do was wait.

"Jinjja jjajeungna," I muttered. Kane paused. I said, "Stop eavesdropping."

"What else is there to listen to?" he retorted. "And you're not exactly quiet."

"Oh? All right. Then you can listen to this—"

"Spare me." He held his hand up between us. He slumped back against his seat. "Can we not have one normal conversation?"

"Is talking to a Stirling beneath you?"

"It's not my first choice."

"What's your first choice?"

"A civil discussion, for Christ's sake." He shook his head, then in mumbled Korean said, "You're only matching stereotypes."

I bristled on every edge. "Stereotypes?" I repeated.

Kane didn't seem abashed that I'd heard him. "It's an observation."

"It's an insult."

"For the stereotype you match, maybe."

My eye twitched. "Then it probably helps you to know you're a spitting image of your pack, too."

He sneered. "What's that mean?"

"Means your ego is so big I'm surprised there's space in this van for the rest of us."

Kane's eyes widened. His mouth twisted up, and he narrowed his eyes in a serrated glare. But the calm encasing him like plastic wrap didn't crack, and it only served to make me more irritated.

"You're one to talk about ego," he said, voice low.

I waved him off, which only made him bristle. "At least I'll admit it," I replied. "You're too busy convincing everyone otherwise."

"What's your problem?" The casing cracked around him. His voice shot up, and the conversations around us quelled at the sudden shift and the signal of a foreign language. "The only person who's against you here is you. No one here is trying to get you, we're trying to help you out, but you're so set on making an enemy of us that you're willing to disregard sound advice just to make yourself feel better?"

"You said it yourself, you would've told me no right out the gate if you could," I snapped. "The only reason you aren't is because I'm a new social experiment in this team. You'd be the first to vouch against me to the board."

"No, I vouched for you."

I went quiet. Corvus sent us inquiring looks. Diego hauled himself over the seat to gape at me.

"Cobayo, you speak Korean?" he said, dumbfounded.

"You speak Korean," Rosalie said, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you two all right?" Meredith asked.

I glanced at Kane, then at them. I said, "We're fine."

It took them a few minutes to be convinced, but they eventually settled back into their conversations and abandoned us to the ever-persistent silence. Kane had returned to his cocoon, eyes trained ahead, face still.

I slumped against the seat, running that confession over in my head. "You vouched for me," I repeated. "You said you'd say no."

"Would have," he reminded.

"What changed?"

"Do you care?" he scoffed. "My opinion doesn't mean anything."

"If you don't even think I can race—"

"No one is out to get you," Kane repeated, his anger quelling into something imploring. "I'm not having this conversation again."

Pink flesh. Neurons. Squelch. Ugh.

I took that in silence. I mulled it over in my mind, tossing it between my ears. I was tempted to keep scratching for an answer, but I knew from the look on Kane's face it'd get me nowhere, and we'd be going in circles for the next four hours. I was left to my own devices, nothing but the white noise of Corvus around me, and Kane's unceasing presence beside me.

Zoe pulled herself over the seat. "Have you two figured out how to have a civil interaction yet?" she joked.

I didn't laugh, and Kane, although clearly able to hear, didn't even twitch.

My smile was bitter. "Not even close."

_____________________

Las Vegas was noon-time light show situated in the dead left of the even deader desert. Dust roiled in the air, coated roads or rocks with greed to devour them. Every breath you took was corrosive in your lungs, the heat aging every molecule at rapid rates. But Las Vegas itself was a neon hellhole, Sin City in gold and green. It pulsed with bad ideas, its blood potent with fluorescent alcohol and silver quarters. The population was predominantly fae folk and lycans, the culture of taking bad risks and worse bets perfectly aligned with Vegas's target victims.

Since Corvus was Corvus, and Avaldi allotted an ungodly amount of money to their star-studded team, we were staying in a hotel rather than the usual motels most teams stayed in for matches. The hotel stood miles upon miles high, obsidian black and trimmed in cream, every inch of it carved like a Grecian statue, the entrance lined with pressed bellboys and well-watered fauna. A slick one waltzed to us and offered his white-gloved hands. He sparkled in the sun, right alongside the hotel.

"May I help you with your luggage?" he said.

"Yeah, I'm the wrong guy for that question," I said, and stepped aside to let the rest of Corvus hand off their bags to him instead.

I glanced at Wynter and Zoe. "I'm hallucinating. Direly."

"It's a damn good delusion, let me tell you," Wynter whispered.

Kane pushed us forward. "Just move."

We moved.

The lobby wasn't much better, each inch a perfect marble, the floors nothing better than a reflection. Mahogany desks wrapped around women and men glowing under golden lamps, smiling residents in and out of the vicinity. I took it in with a, "I can't breathe."

"It's the air," Wynter said. "Too expensive for our lungs."

"I'm breathing fine," Zoe replied.

"More air for us," Kenzo said.

I shook my head. "This team is too comfortable with eavesdropping."

Coach and Kane went for one of the desks to check us in, leaving us half-asleep in the lobby as we waited. Diego was still hooked on where we should go first, or at least what bets we should make and where, while Rosalie and Zoe were discussing  shopping centers. What I really needed was a damn nap, but Kane had already told us to forget relaxing in favor of practice.

"Practice," Meredith repeated, dumbfounded. "I can barely feel my legs."

"That van is not as comfy as it looks," Zahir admitted. "If we can get King close enough to a bed, we might be able to get him to fall asleep before he remembers."

"Are you plotting?" Wynter said. "Against your captain? And here I thought all you had was sunshine."

"Sunshine and an appetite," he said. "I'm starving."

I glanced to Zoe and Wynter. "Seems you all got along well."

Zoe grinned brightly. "You know Rosalie's been to England almost every spring? We spent the whole ride talking about it."

Wynter shrugged. "Zahir is predictable. Predictable and sunshine. I almost had an aneurysm." Wynter eyed me. "I saw you talking to King."

"'Talking' is a stretch," I said.

"Stressful times with changing lineups," Zahir assured me. "He'll warm up to you eventually. Guy's got an abrasive tendency, don't take anything too personally."

"As in anything," Diego added pointedly, popping his head in between us. "Don't get me wrong, I'd commit some serious crimes for the man, but King is notorious for crappy first impressions. I'm convinced he's made an art form of it."

"What's with that?" Wynter inquired. "I thought captains were the most welcoming ones."

Zahir smiled, but it was more remorseful than anything, a certain regret in it. "If you're lucky like that."

Edwards approached us with four key cards in her hands. She distributed them accordingly, pushing them into Corvus's hands.

"Girls, take a room," she said, pushing one into Rosalie's hand. She slumped with relief at that and took Meredith by the arm.

"If I got Diego, I'd be fighting," Rosalie said.

"She likes me," Diego told me. "I think she's in love."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," I murmured.

The other card went to Wynter, who gave me a sympathetic look before looping her arm around Zoe. Edwards faced the guys.

"Rest of you are in the suite next to them, two to a section." She handed a card to Zahir and the last one to Kane. "I'll be in the room across from you all with Ramos, so you need anything—that's an actual need—just knock."

We nodded. Edwards swerved on her heel to head for the elevators, Ramos on her tail. All four guys glanced at the cards.

Diego held up his hands and snagged Zahir by the back of his hood. "I'm with this one. Kenzo is too boring, and King runs on seventeen-hour days. I need my beauty sleep."

Kane turned to Kenzo, but he held up a hand in front of his face, and displayed another key card from seemingly-thin air. "Don't try," he said.

Meredith put her hand on her hip. "Where'd you get that?"

"I plan ahead."

"Team bonding, Kenzo."

"Seventeen-hour days," he replied, and headed after Edwards.

Wynter, Zoe, and I gaped after him, although Corvus looked more mildly bemused than surprised. Kane's face was concerned more with dread than shock. If my luck had ever been worse, no. No, it hadn't.

Meredith gave Kane a grin. "Team bonding, King," she sang in reminder. "We have a few hours before practice, after all."

"Maybe you two will have a normal conversation somewhere in there," Wynter drawled.

Everyone but Kane and I laughed at that. He pinched the space between his eyes, and tucked the key card into his pocket.

"Let's just get to the rooms," he muttered.

The day had never seemed longer.

The rooms were not much better than the rest of the building.

It was about three of my old apartment's square footage combined, spanning a wide length to accompany one queen bed, a TV, a coffee table, and a bathroom equipped with two sinks across from a black granite shower. The same black coated the walls, the sheets, only taking a break on the pale gray carpeting and drapes.

"You guys own this hotel or something?" I murmured. "It's too Corvus to be coincidental."

"We have a rule about only staying in dark-colored hotels for image purposes," Rosalie said from the hall.

I turned to her. "You're joking."

She blinked. Then said blankly, "Yes. Obviously."

"Helps to smile," Zoe said, and smiled. "Like this. Haha!"

"Yeah, I'm not doing that," she snorted. "Tell King to come get us if he needs to."

Diego grinned impishly at Zahir from their door. "We gonna cuddle to sleep, Z?"

Zahir patted his shoulder. "Whatever you need, man."

"Don't say it like that."

"Don't say it at all," Kane sighed. "Get your stuff unpacked. We'll hit the track after this."

"Aw, come on, King. You'll have Yun. He's a great snuggler, I bet, he's the size of a stuffed animal. Looks just like a Care Bear." Diego patted my head.

I closed my eyes. "There should've been a height clause in that contract." I headed for Kane as Diego began to explain his Care Bear analysis to Zahir behind me. I lowered my voice. "I can sleep on the couch, you know. Not 'cause of the snuggles, that's a Diego thing. Or a Care Bear thing. Which I'm not," I hurried.

Kane raised a brow. "I don't care where you sleep," he said. "Unless you do...snuggle."

"Like a bug," I replied.

"Seriously?"

"No, man. No."

Kane was wholly unamused. Corvus disappeared into their respective rooms and suites. Kane let his rings hit the doorknob, then the sensor, before he flashed the card at its face and a resounding click let us inside.

I set my duffel on one side of the bed. It looked far smaller up close, and with the prospect of two bodies on it. My skin crawled. I thought of the phone buried in my shirts and heat raced up my throat.

Kane set his luggage on the other side. He wasted no time in unzipping it to lay it on top of the sheets. I said, "Practice is in two hours."

"I'll go early to check out the track," he said simply. "Make sure they got our bikes here safely."

"Corvus is going out."

"Okay."

"You're not gonna go with them?"

"No?" he said, frowning.

I cocked my head. "What about your rule?" I asked. "Something or other about being attached at the hip."

Kane discarded his sweater for a training jacket and zipped it up to his throat. "Coach is gonna be there. And since when did you care about the rules?"

"Since when do you not?"

Kane turned around. "Then you can come with. You should go early for extra practice anyway."

For a race I'm not racing. I bit my tongue. "Never said that."

"I'm saying that." He gestured for me to get dressed. "Let's go."

I knew it wasn't an open discussion. I acquiesced, grabbing an undershirt and jacket to change into in the bathroom. When I came back out, Kane was already halfway out the door, heading down the hall.

I hurried after him, stumbling on my untied tennis shoes.

"Do you ever actually ask people things?" I huffed out as we rounded a corner to head for the elevator. I yanked on my jacket. "As in, genuinely ask a real question."

Kane scowled. "Do you ever actually answer people when they ask?" he shot back.

"Depends on who's asking."

"You're gracious," he sighed, pushing the button.

"That sounds sarcastic."

"I wonder."

"Well, sarcasm is where you say one thing, but you really—"

"Spare me, please," he said. We got in the elevator. "If all you're gonna do is find ways to irk me for the next three hours, then you're free to join them downtown until practice."

I turned to him. "Why'd you say that?" I said. "Why'd you say you vouched for me?"

Kane paused. His eyes found mine in the mirror doors of the elevator, which had taken it upon itself to move as slowly, as slowly, as possible.

"I didn't vouch against you," he corrected.

"Why not?"

"For someone who couldn't care less what I think," he said, raising a brow, "you care a lot."

"Guess I'm just curious," I drawled bitterly. "It's only my life."

"It's only my team."

"You vouch for me, you don't let me race, you practice with me, you won't race me, I'm a thorn in your side, I'm a promising prospect, you've got so many sides of an argument going on in your head, how am I not supposed to ask?" I snapped. "If you're not gonna answer me on anything else, then at least tell me why you had a chance to cut me and you didn't, only to keep me on the sidelines."

Kane blinked. He considered me in the mirror.

He rubbed his temples. "Listen. You're a Class III Stirling. Whether you like it or not. That's just not done in D1, and on top of it, you're a complete rookie on the track. You're a press issue and a match risk," he said. "But, you made it past the audition, and you've kept up so far. Coach said you've got potential."

I stared. "Potential."

"We're not racing you right now because that's the deal we made with the board," he explained, and my heart tumbled. "You won't race for the first few matches, it gives you time to catch up and it gives them time to brace for the backlash."

"Backlash."

Kane shrugged. "You'll probably be the most hated D1 rookie for a few months."

I was an idiot if I overlooked the sheer amount of eyes Corvus had on them. They'd been on magazines, talk shows, trending searches, for fuck's sake. Public opinion was only one iron fist around them.

"So, you're not just keeping me off the track because I'm clunky," I said.

"No, that's definitely still a reason," he corrected. "It's just not the only reason."

"Good to know I'm in trusting hands."

"Just be grateful none of them dropped you."

"You're gracious," I mocked, and Kane turned to stare. I slumped against elevator's wall. "Coach says I got potential?"

I waited for him to correct that, but he just hummed. I tilted my head.

"You think I've got potential?"

"I thought you didn't care what I thought."

"But you'd sure like me to," I replied smugly, and his lip curled. "Besides, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, you might know a thing or two."

He leaned against the other wall. "Gracious," he echoed. He shrugged. "You're still here."

"What's that mean?"

Kane cocked his head from side to side. "You...just need practice."

I let out a surprised laugh. "Was that a compliment? Are you complimenting me?"

"I can't see how telling you your technique is severely unprofessional is at all a compliment," he replied.

"But that means you think I have the potential part down."

"You're deluded," he muttered. "You're making up memories."

"You know, someone could argue that you're keeping me around because I'm good midnight practice company."

"Who would argue that? Who would competently come to that conclusion at any point ever?"

"Jeez, Kane," I scoffed. "If you like me that much, you could just say so."

Kane shook his head, closing his eyes. "Every conversation with you costs me a year of my lifespan," he muttered.

I considered responding to that, then paused when another issue dawned on me. I straightened. "Are we moving?"

Kane opened his mouth, then closed it. We glanced around the elevator. Kane pushed the button for the floor once more, and when it failed to light up, pushed the button to open the doors. It remained quiet.

The response was immediate. I turned on him, holding up my hands. "I'm too scrawny to eat."

"What?" he snapped.

"No nutritional value to me," I continued. "I'm at least three grams of protein."

"Can you go five minutes without spouting nonsense and be helpful?" he replied. "Where's your phone?"

"Don't have one," I lied.

"Trend continues," he muttered. "Push the help button."

I did. But no buzz came. I said, to no one in particular, "I think I was hexed as a child."

Kane pulled out his phone. He typed something in to someone, before waiting a few seconds to get a reply. When he did, it didn't ease his mood. He slouched against the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

"Everyone's out," he muttered. "Meredith said they can be here in thirty."

"Thirty seconds?"

"Minutes."

"Bad hex." I sat down opposite of him. If anything was more awkward, no. No, it wasn't.

Kane drummed his ringed fingers against his knees. He let me have all of one breath before he said, eyes narrowed, "Why don't you have a phone?"

"You've asked that."

"I couldn't tell if you were being serious."

I shrugged. "Probably not," I replied. "Wasn't worth the expenses. I didn't really need it. The computer lab is open twenty-four-seven anyway."

Kane frowned. "Your parents don't want you to have one?"

I stiffened. The truth battled against itself in my skull, tumbling about and chewing between a half-lie or an outrageous one. I chewed my lip hard.

"No," I decided. "Similar feelings."

He blinked. Kane crossed his legs. "Where did you say you were from?"

Panic was an icy snake down my spine. "Downtown. LA county."

He considered me for a long, long moment. "Are you near Cat's Eye?"

So much for the half-lie. He'd figured the debate out for me. "What?"

"Nia told me you and her are nearby each other," he said, and I immediately saw everything I'd let slip falter at its feet. I hadn't accounted for what Nia would tell them. "Cat's Eye, the Splinter, off of Inglewood, right?"

"You...know it."

He shrugged. "Better gas prices." He said it too casually for comfort. The neighborhoods weren't really on radars like his; those in Avaldi didn't even breach the Arts District. He must've seen something on my face—likely horror—because his expression dulled into something almost amused. "You could've just said so."

"Said so," I repeated, incredulous. "I figured I'd dug myself enough of a hole with the secondary profile."

"It's downtown LA, not a ring of Hell," he replied.

"Maybe just a farther out one."

He let out a sharp breath, and it occurred to me it was supposed to be a laugh. I pressed my lips thin, then dared to ask, "Does Corvus travel a lot? For matches."

Kane hummed. "Within the country."

"Outside of?"

"Maybe if they feel like a vacation."

"You do."

"Do you?"

"Can't even afford a phone, man," I snorted. "What business do I have taking vacations?"

Kane frowned. When he spoke again, it was in Korean, and the sound of it made my ears buzz. "What do your parents do?"

I debated how much of a risk it was to answer in either language. I hadn't spoken Korean for several months, the likes of it left in my old dayjob in the Splinter. I scraped it out for sake of saying, "Family business. They run a few shops in Washington."

"You didn't live with anyone here?"

I shrugged. "No curfew," I said, and mustered a grin.

He considered me. I waited for it to twist into something disbelieving, or at the very least, bored, but it was a surprisingly soft look on his face. The expression looked foreign, but not unempathetic.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That you lived alone."

I stared. The sentiment sent my head spinning. I tugged at the hems of my pants. "It was my choice," I lied. "No hard feelings, really. Other than the fact I can't cook to save my life. I think I became a number one buyer of instant ramyun that year."

Kane took that subject change swiftly. "You should learn to cook," he said. "It's a life skill."

I likely wouldn't live long enough to put any life skill to use, but I still nodded. "I pity anyone who has to witness me try to cook, but thanks."

"That's why you should learn. Diego or I can teach you."

"Spend more time with me than necessary? Ya, ige mwoya? Jigeum naega joha?"

"Did you just 'ya' me? I'm two years older than you."

"What am I supposed to say? Jogiyo, sunbaenim."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not funny. And don't call me that."

"Ahjussi?"

"Never mind, sunbae is better."

"Halabeoji."

"I'll throw you, Echo."

I smiled. "Alasseo, hwanan sunbae."

"Hwanan," he repeated, scoffing. "I think you've thrown more fits than me."

"All in good humor."

"Says you."

I let my head rest against the wall. "Maybe if you teach me to make that dakjuk, I'll consider being reasonable for a few weeks."

"If all I have to do is feed you to keep you manageable, you've made my life a lot simpler." It only then dawned on me it was a joke. My laugh was a pop of surprise. Kane's lip twitched. I swore it was something dawning on a smile. "You don't eat Korean food?"

I shrugged. "No one to make it." Partial lie.

Kane hummed. He said, "You could learn to."

"Careful, man. That sounds like an offer."

"For as long as you're manageable," he warned.

I let my mouth shed a grin. I said, "Was that an actual, civil conversation?" I put a hand against my chest. "There is a God."

Kane gave me a deadpan look. "Seems He's gracious." And he almost smiled.

I smirked. "You're pettier than you look."

"You're as petty as you look."

"Hwanan."

"Jajjeungna."

I snorted. "Touché."

Kane shrugged. "Riposte."

I stared. When he finally smiled back, I had half a thought to go pry open the doors myself and go running right back to the Splinter, Vegas be damned.

But my chance was swindled when a creak and a shout interrupted us. The doors screeched a bit in protest, before they were drawing apart in a slow, gargled manner, revealing Meredith on the other side. She was bent over, hair a disaster on her head, Corvus behind her and a security guard at her left, looking wholly unsurprised at the entire ordeal.

"Happens sometimes," he said with a shrug. "Cold weather. Bad gears. You get it."

"Do we?" Meredith panted.

"We ran here for bad gears and cold weather?" Rosalie snapped, glaring at the guard. "You know we waited in line for that buffet for a whole fifteen minutes."

"Not helping," Zahir said, directing her back to us.

Zoe hurried inside the elevator. "Are you two all right?" she asked.

Kane and I glanced at each other. I hauled myself to my feet, and shrugged.

"Civil," I replied, and meant it.

(this chapter is once again ridiculously long, but hopefully isn't too boring with the lack of more active action. ty for your time, the little star thanks you :D )