After an unknown amount of time, Eliana didn't know how long exactly since there was no clock in the gym, she slowly regained consciousness. With a groan, she sat up, her head pounding and her limbs trembling. The worst part? The vomit smeared all over her face, leaving behind a revolting taste in her mouth. She just wanted to rinse it out, collapse into bed, and sleep for a week. But, of course, life wasn't that easy.
A towel hit her square in the face.
"Get back on the treadmill. The three hours aren't over yet." Damon's cold, unyielding voice cut through her daze.
She blinked at him in disbelief. "You said I could stop once I passed out!" she snapped, her head still spinning.
"And I meant it. You could stop after three hours or once you passed out. But now you're awake again. So you either pass out once more or finish the remaining time." He twirled a blade in his fingers, the sharp glint in his eyes making it clear—he was waiting for her to disobey. He wanted a reason to punish her.
What kind of twisted logic was that? She could stop while unconscious, but if she woke up before the time was up, she had to continue? Absolute bullshit.
She didn't think she had it in her to run anymore. Every fiber of her body screamed in protest. But she wasn't about to give Damon the satisfaction of breaking her so easily. With gritted teeth, she forced herself onto her feet, her legs trembling beneath her weight. Each step toward the treadmill felt like walking through wet cement.
Thankfully, Damon had set the pace lower this time. For the sake of her pride, she would have liked to say she lasted at least ten minutes before throwing up again. In reality, it was barely one. Her stomach violently rebelled, and everything inside her came rushing out before she collapsed for the second time.
This time, she woke to a sharp, cruel kick to her stomach.
Her eyes flew open as she gasped in pain. Damon stood over her, watching with an expression of pure disgust. She already despised his face, no matter how ungodly handsome he was with his dark green eyes and jet-black hair. His eyes were especially captivating—he didn't deserve them. Maybe if she had green eyes instead of her dull brown ones, she'd actually look striking. Hell, maybe she should just scoop his out and take them for herself. Clearly, the running had driven her insane.
"Get up. It's lunchtime, and you look disgusting," he sneered before turning on his heel and walking away.
He didn't bother telling her where the cafeteria was. Or where she could clean herself up. Or even giving her a single shred of dignity.
To be honest, his words stung more than she wanted to admit. Especially after yesterday, when he had bluntly pointed out during her physical exam that she had no ass and her body was pathetic. They had stripped her down, humiliated her, and now, once again, one of them was treating her like filth.
Forcing herself up, she clung to one of the gym machines for support—she had no idea what it was actually used for, but right now, it was her lifeline. Her entire body trembled as she reached down, snatching up the crumpled piece of paper with her schedule.
Cafeteria. That's where she had to go.
Great. And where the fuck was that?
She staggered out of the gym, using the wall for balance, hoping to run into someone she could ask. The halls were eerily empty. She needed to clean up first. There was no way she'd make any allies in this godforsaken place while covered in vomit and reeking like a dumpster.
Her best bet was her room from last night. If she could just find it. Unfortunately, her sense of direction was utter shit, and after what felt like an eternity, she finally found the door—only to discover it was locked.
That was it. That was the final straw.
Tears burned in her eyes as frustration boiled over. With a heavy thud, she slid down against the door, her body wracked with silent sobs. She was exhausted. Humiliated. Trapped.
After a few minutes, the worst of it passed. Sniffling, she rubbed her face, forcing herself to think. She needed a new plan. Checking her schedule again, she spotted a potential solution—the infirmary was nearby. Maybe she could find some spare clothes there.
This time, luck was on her side. She managed to find the infirmary without getting lost and slipped inside, her eyes scanning the room. There, draped over a chair, was a hoodie. It didn't look like the standard clothes the recruits wore, but she didn't care. Anything was better than walking around in a puke-stained hoodie.
Without hesitation, she peeled off the disgusting garment and reached for the clean one—only to freeze as a voice spoke behind her.
"That's mine."
Eliana stiffened, clutching the hoodie to her sports bra-clad chest as she turned. The guy from yesterday's medical exam stood before her. Dane. His light brown hair was slightly tousled, his piercing gaze locked onto her.
"I… uh… I'm sorry," she stammered. "My hoodie got dirty, and my room was locked, so I thought I'd try my luck here. Can I have it? Please?"
Until now, every interaction she'd had with these men had been nothing short of a nightmare. She had no idea what to expect from him.
To her surprise, he merely sighed. "Take it. And fuck off if you're not injured."
For once, something went right.
She wasted no time slipping the hoodie on and scrambling toward the door. But before stepping out, she hesitated.
"…Do you maybe know where the cafeteria is?" she asked, hoping for a shred of kindness.
Dane just stared at her blankly, as if she were an idiot. "I said fuck off."
Alright then. Clearly, kindness was too much to ask for.
Without another word, she stepped out and resumed her search for the cafeteria, praying she wouldn't get lost again.