Chapter 121
Raven
The entertainment value of this camping trip was already exceeding my expectations, and we hadn't even reached nightfall yet.
Zara scrambled to her feet, dirt and pine needles clinging to her designer hiking pants. Her face had gone from flushed to an alarming shade of crimson.
"What the fuck did you just say?" Her voice cracked on the last word, equal parts disbelief and rage. She whirled on Tyler, who suddenly looked like he'd rather face the bear I'd heard earlier than his girlfriend. "You know she stole it! You fucking know it!"
Tyler's confidence from earlier had evaporated like morning mist. "Well... we don't really have proof, and... and..."
"And what?" Zara advanced on him, fists clenched.
But Maddie was already moving, gliding across the space between campsites with the calculated grace of a predator closing in on wounded prey. She rested her hand on Tyler's shoulder, fingers curling possessively into the fabric of his jacket.
"Tyler," she purred, her voice honey-sweet and poisonous. "The sun's setting faster than you think. It's going to be a very long, cold night without food." She paused, letting the implication sink in. "Are you sure you still want to share a tent with Zara?"
The silence that followed was delicious.
Tyler's jaw worked soundlessly, his gaze darting between Maddie's confident smirk and Zara's increasingly murderous expression. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating survival versus loyalty.
"Tyler!" Zara's voice hit a pitch that probably disturbed wildlife in a three-mile radius. "Don't you fucking dare—"
"Think about it," Maddie continued, completely ignoring Zara's outburst. Her tone shifted, becoming almost conspiratorial. "Join me now, and you get access to all my supplies. Protection. Backup." She tilted her head, studying him with those calculating eyes. "Can your girlfriend offer you any of that? Or have you forgotten..." Her smile sharpened. "Who our real enemy is? The one who's humiliated both of us. Repeatedly."
Tyler's eyes flickered involuntarily toward me.
There it is.
I didn't bother looking up from my meal, just selected another piece of cheese with deliberate casualness. "This Manchego is actually incredible," I commented to no one in particular. "Miles, remind me to ask where you source your ingredients."
Maya leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Raven, they're talking about you. You're the 'real enemy.'"
"Even better." I finally glanced up, meeting Tyler's gaze across the clearing with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I was hoping they'd team up. More efficient to handle them together. Saves time."
Maya made a small sound of distress, but I caught the hint of amusement underneath. She was learning.
Tyler straightened suddenly, and I watched the exact moment his decision crystallized. His shoulders squared, jaw set, and when he turned back to Zara, his expression had gone cold.
"Zara." His voice was flat, emotionless. "We're done. Over. I'm not coming back to that tent."
The collective gasp from the other students was almost comical. Someone dropped their water bottle. Another let out a low whistle.
"Holy shit," Leo muttered. "Did he just—"
"Yep." I took a sip of San Pellegrino, thoroughly entertained.
The clearing erupted in whispers and commentary, students suddenly forgetting their own drama to focus on this spectacular implosion.
"Dude, that's cold even for you!" someone called out.
"Talk about switching teams," another added.
But a few voices cut through the mockery with genuine warning: "Fuck, you guys don't get it. Maddie's different now. She's not the same as before."
"Yeah, I'd shut up if I were you. She broke someone's hand last week."
Zara stood frozen for a heartbeat, processing. Then rage overtook shock, and she lunged toward Tyler with a wordless shriek.
Maddie stepped smoothly between them, her posture deceptively relaxed but her eyes deadly serious. "You want to hit my ex boyfriend?" The possessive emphasis was deliberate, territorial. "Sorry, correction—my official boyfriend now?"
Tyler moved to stand beside Maddie, and the united front they presented was almost impressive in its calculated cruelty. "You should leave, Zara. We don't have enough food for three people."
"Fuck you!" Zara's voice broke on the words. "Fuck both of you!"
She whirled, nearly tripping over a tree root in her haste, and disappeared into the darkening forest. Her retreating sobs echoed back through the trees.
Several students shifted uncomfortably. The entertainment factor had crossed into actual discomfort for some of them. Weak stomachs for drama, apparently.
I finished my drink with a satisfied sigh, setting the empty bottle aside. "Well. That was thoroughly entertaining."
Maya was already on her feet, gathering some of Miles's food supplies. Her expression carried that particular brand of determined kindness that made her both admirable and occasionally frustrating.
"I'm taking some food to Zara," she announced, not quite meeting my eyes. "She shouldn't go hungry just because—" She gestured vaguely at the Tyler-Maddie situation.
I studied her for a moment, then smiled—a genuine one this time. "You're a good person, Maya. Honestly." I waved her off. "Go ahead. Just don't get lost in the dark."
Relief and gratitude flashed across her face before she hurried away, clutching a bundle of protein bars and fruit.
Miles watched her go, then turned to me, completely indifferent to the Tyler-Maddie drama. "Master, when are we going hunting? You mentioned wanting to find that bear."
"Now works." I stretched, feeling the pleasant fullness of a good meal and the anticipatory energy building in my muscles. "I'm fed. Hydrated. Ready to burn off some calories." I grinned. "Hopefully whatever we track down will be strong enough to make it interesting."
His grin widened. "What hunting rifle did you bring? I didn't see you carrying anything on the bus."
I raised an eyebrow. "Rifle?"
"Yeah, for the bear hunt?" His enthusiasm dimmed slightly, confusion creeping in. "You did bring a gun, right?"
"No."
"Then... what are you planning to use?"
I reached down to my boot, fingers finding the familiar grip tucked against my ankle. The tactical knife slid free with a whisper of steel—seven inches of matte black carbon steel that had seen me through situations far more dangerous than a territorial bear.
I held it up, letting what little remaining daylight caught the blade's edge. "This. Ka-Bar BK2 Campanion. Full tang, 1095 Cro-Van steel."
Miles stared. "That's... a knife."
"Very observant." I tested the balance, the weight settling into my palm like an old friend. "It's all about knowing where to strike. Behind the shoulder blade, angled up—seven inches is more than enough to reach the heart." I traced an invisible line in the air. "Or if you're feeling particularly ambitious, base of the skull. Severs the spinal cord. Instant."
Leo, who'd been quietly observing this exchange, made a strangled sound. "You're going to hunt a bear. With a knife."
"Obviously."
Miles went pale. "Holy shit—we're going to fistfight a fucking bear."