Chapter 5: Tipping Points
Blair's fist shot out, her knuckles cracking against Trey's open palm. She shifted her weight immediately, following the strike with a sharp elbow jab toward his ribs. He caught it just in time, twisting her arm, but she rolled with the motion, flipping herself backward and landing lightly on her feet.
"Show-off," Trey muttered, shaking out his stinging hand.
"Keep whining," Blair said, smirking. "Maybe it'll help."
Their movements were a blur of precision and speed, boots scuffing against the mat, muscles flexing with calculated power. No powers allowed—just pure, disciplined combat. And this was where Blair thrived.
Her body moved with a kind of instinctive grace, each strike, feint, and counterattack flowing seamlessly. Combat mastery wasn't just skill for her—it was her edge, her power, an art form rooted in reaction speed, muscle memory, and anticipation.
They called it Enhanced Combat Aptitude (ECA)—a perfect fusion of peak physical reflexes and the ability to read the tiniest shifts in body language, allowing her to predict attacks almost before they happened.
"Focus, Trey!" Sienna, with her razor-sharp bob and deadly green eyes—snapped as Trey stumbled back from Blair's next punch.
"I'm focused!" he shot back, grinning. "She's just a nightmare!"
Blair didn't wait for him to recover. She darted forward, sweeping his legs out from under him with one smooth kick. He hit the mat with a thud and groaned.
"Point made," he muttered.
Sienna rolled her eyes as she tossed a water bottle to Blair. "We all get it. You're terrifying."
Blair caught the bottle, cracked it open, and took a long drink. The water was cold, refreshing, but it didn't do anything for the restless twist of frustration sitting heavy in her chest.
"You okay?" Trey asked as he sat up, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Fine," Blair said flatly.
"You don't look fine."
Blair's jaw tightened.
The silence stretched until Sienna arched a perfectly manicured brow. "You've been a mood since lunch."
"I said I'm fine."
Trey exchanged a look with Sienna and the other girl, Tess, the one with dark waves and too many rings. He stood, brushing himself off. "I'm done for today. Freshers' party's starting soon anyway. I want to see what kind of fresh meat showed up this year."
Sienna smirked. "Fresh meat does sound fun."
Tess nodded. "We could use a break." She cast a sidelong glance at Blair. "You coming?"
Blair unscrewed the cap of her bottle again, staring into the water as if it held answers she didn't want to find.
Trey grinned slyly. "Bet the little redhead's going."
Blair's hand twitched. The cap cracked between her fingers.
"Don't," she said, her voice low.
Trey blinked.
Sienna narrowed her eyes. "Huh."
Blair turned away without another word, grabbed a towel, and headed toward the showers.
The party was already in full swing by the time Beatrix arrived with Leo, Vivienne, Kian, and Reina. Music pulsed through the air, the heavy bass vibrating the floor. The space was dimly lit, neon lights flashing in time with the beat.
Vivienne led the way, her heels clicking confidently as she scanned the crowd. She spotted the drinks table and motioned for the others to follow. "We need drinks," she announced. "Come on."
Beatrix trailed behind, feeling the hum of energy in her bones. She wasn't much for parties, but there was something about the way the air buzzed with possibility that made her chest tighten in a not-unpleasant way.
"Glad you all made it," Vivienne said as she poured herself something fizzy and purple. "If we're going to survive living together, we need to start getting comfortable. And what better way to bond than a party?"
Kian's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "Therapy?"
"Group meditation?" Reina added, smirking.
"Sleeping," Leo offered.
Vivienne glared at them. "Don't be cute." She downed her drink in one gulp.
Beatrix was about to laugh when Vivienne's eyes locked onto something—or someone—across the room. Her expression shifted instantly, her sharp confidence softening into something almost vulnerable.
"Excuse me," Vivienne murmured, brushing past Beatrix without another word.
Leo snorted. "What's the over-under on her ditching us for a boy?"
Beatrix chuckled. "Pretty high."
Leo turned his gaze to her, his eyes lingering just a second longer than usual. His smirk softened. "You look…" He hesitated, then let it slide into a grin. "You clean up nice."
Beatrix's cheeks warmed. The black dress she wore wasn't exactly subtle—short, snug, with a plunging neckline that she wasn't used to. "Thanks."
"You want to dance?" Leo asked, offering his hand.
She blinked. Her mind flickered, briefly to Blair's hand on her chin, her fingers warm and deliberate, he didn't possess the same confidence she had.
She pushed the thought away.
Blair wasn't here. Blair didn't…whatever. It didn't matter.
"Sure," Beatrix said.
She took Leo's hand.
Meanwhile, Blair had arrived late.
She had told herself she wasn't going to come. Parties weren't her scene. But no matter how long she stayed under the water in the showers, no matter how many times she closed her eyes and told herself to stop thinking about a certain fiery redhead—
She was here.
The music thudded against her chest as she slipped through the crowd, her eyes scanning the room. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for.
And then she saw her.
Beatrix. Dancing with Leo.
Blair's breath hitched.
Her heart twisted, and a sharp, hot anger surged through her veins.
She watched the way Beatrix moved, the sway of her hips, the curve of her smile as Leo's hand settled on her waist.
Blair's jaw clenched.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't jealous. If Beatrix didn't want her—if she didn't feel that pull, that spark—then Blair wasn't going to force it.
She turned away, forcing herself to look anywhere but the dance floor.
She caught sight of a small curvy brunette with dark eyes and a tipsy smile, leaning lazily against the drinks table.
Reina.
Blair's lips curved into a slow, dangerous grin.
Fine. If Beatrix wasn't an option, she could have a little fun elsewhere.