The simulation bay opened at five-thirty in the goddamn morning.
I stood outside the entrance in my academy-issued tactical suit, black synthetic material that hugged every curve and bulge of my body in ways that made me acutely aware I still had at least twenty pounds to lose. The suit had sensors embedded throughout the fabric, tiny nodes that would track movement, impact force, vitality signs. Everything got recorded. Everything got analyzed.
My team looked like a disaster waiting to happen.
Naomi stood three feet away from me. Her pink and black striped hair was pulled back tight. Her tactical suit fit her tall frame perfectly, showing off those long legs and the curves that had been pressed against me two nights ago. She wasn't looking at me. Hadn't looked at me since she'd left my apartment last night after Belle stormed out.
Belle was worse.
