Can't Cheat Death - Brennan Sorrengail

VII: Cassian Moren

In the days leading up to our final match before Threshing, Brennan did his absolute best to avoid my existence. Without his constant nagging and pestering, classes and mealtime have been much more enjoyable, not to mention the fact that he hadn't even been sitting with our squad for either. Whoever that girl was he'd walked in with the morning after he'd attacked me, they'd become attached to the hip. They walked to classes together, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner while basking in each other presence. It was disgusting, but if his attention was solely focused on her and not on me, good riddance. 

Even during squad training, he'd almost made it a point to pair up with anyone else possible, keeping his eyes, and his hands, to himself. 

Sloshing a big gulp of water from my canteen, I lean back on my heels, watching the matches around me. My side ached from where Iosaph had nailed me with a kick, but besides a few extra bumps and bruises we'd both walked off the mat with minimal injuries. Sweat pours into my eyes and I have to use my shirt to wipe it away. 

"Riorson! Cormac! You two've been going at it for half an hour, change partners!" Breas, our squad leader, snaps, not even bothering to look at us before turning back to the match he's watching.

"Does the power go to his head or something?" Iosaph huffs.

"I think he's just a dick." I shrug, pushing myself back to my feet. 

"A massive- wait, no, a tiny, miniscule dick." She snickers, clearly enjoying her own joke.

I roll my eyes but offer her my hand. "I'm not too keen on getting yelled at so let's split up before Squad Leader Tiny Dick decides to come over here."

Iosaph nearly chokes on her water, but after a few hard slaps to the back, she's laughing again, nearly tripping over her own feet as she stands.

"Cormac! Over here!" 

We both turn toward the shout, and I see Hugh waving at her from across the room.

Iosaph smirks. "Duty calls!" She salutes and then darts through the crowd, weaving between swinging fists and poorly aimed kicks.

I chuckle, taking another sip of my water before throwing it back onto my jacket and glance around, looking for an open partner to steal. 

"Need a good ass-kicking, Riorson?"

"Fuck..."

I suck in a sharp breath, then glance over my shoulder. Fuck. Me.

Brennan stands there, that arrogant smirk still plastered on his face, like we're old friends and he hasn't ignored my very existence for five days. I don't even have time to process the irritation creeping up my spine before he steps forward, his posture casual.

"I think you need a good challenge, and I need a cool down." His voice drips with that same condescending tone, like he's doing me a favor by offering his presence.

I narrow my eyes. "I can manage, thanks." My gaze flicks past him, searching for anyone else.

He doesn't move. Not an inch. "Oh, come on. I don't bite. Much," he adds, his grin widening. He even flashes his still-healing hand from his pocket, the one I bit. The one where my teeth are still indented in his palm. 

"Not interested," I mutter, ignoring the way my stomach rolls.

He steps in front of me, closer than I'd ever care for him to be. "Well, that's too bad. Because if my eyes don't deceive me, I'm your only option."

I bristle as he leans in, but I keep my mouth shut. He's unfortunately, not wrong, as much as I hate to admit it. Everyone else is paired up, and unless I want Breas breathing down my neck, it's him or kitchen duty for a week.