I showered fast. The hot water found every scratch and bite mark on my body and reminded me of exactly who had put each one there. Addison's parallel lines down my back. Belle's constellation of teeth marks across my throat and chest. The faint pressure bruise on my hip from Naomi's grip during the Sanctum session. My body looked like a topographic map of bad decisions drawn by talented cartographers.
I dressed in clean tactical underlayers and the academy combat suit, which fit properly now that three weeks of Limit Breaker and Vale's torture had carved away thirty-five pounds of the original Jace Monroe's soft engineering. The suit sat snug across my shoulders and chest without pulling or bunching and the material moved with me instead of against me. I strapped the spear across my back and checked my reflection.
