Goddess Rising (8 page)

“You better run fast, pisshead!” Alejandro yelled. “We’re coming for you!”

Sam
hated
that moniker with a vengeance. But like freshman year, she bore it silently, focusing on the massive wooden planks ahead of her, a significant hurdle if she didn’t pick up enough speed to make the hardscrabble.

Today was another timed elimination event, and the obstacle course was built for men at least a head taller than her. She had to work twice as hard at every turn, but she’d grown up like that on a ranch full of cowboys and roughnecks, so she’d learned to get over the unfairness a long time ago. She had to be twice as fast and twice as smart to keep up, so she took to running flat-out to each section in the first third of the course, giving herself more time to meet each tall wall, each rope swing, each ridiculously difficult ladder.

Sam gauged the barrier ahead of her to be about eight feet tall with a slight slope. She skipped hard the last few steps with a burst of speed, scrambling a couple feet up the planks before grasping the top with a quick clench so she could swing her legs over. Sam glanced down in time to see the water waiting for her below.

Oh, shit—

The momentum was already carrying her down. Sam hit the water hard, a surprised yelp coming from her mouth as the cold wetness flooded her fatigues, simultaneously shocking her and weighing her down in the slop. She popped back up for air just as Alejandro came over the barrier. Sam scrambled in the muddy water to get out of the way, but her water-logged fatigues billowed around her like inflatables, and she just couldn’t move fast enough.

The heel of Alejandro’s boot slammed into her back so hard it knocked the wind out of her. Sam opened her mouth in a pained gasp as she was dragged down into the murky water. She felt his knee dig into her side, making her gulp reflexively, her mouth filling with liquid and mud.

Sam flailed, drowning as Alejandro gripped her arm and her shoulder, holding her facedown in the muck. Thick, dirty fluid seared her lungs as she fought for air, her arms and legs flailing uselessly as he held her down. Seconds passed in blind, wet pain. Sam toed the edge of unconsciousness, everything blurring, her lungs on fire, desperate for oxygen.

A moment passed, and then another set of arms grabbed her and jerked her up. Disoriented, Sam was distantly aware of being dragged out of the water as she gasped for air, coughing and spluttering in painful, wheezy bursts. She was laid out on the bank, water streaming down her face as she gripped the slippery earth in relief, hacking.

“She okay?” she heard someone call out.

“Yeah—I got her!” Alejandro responded. He smacked her hard on the back, making her cough up more water. She felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he leaned close to her.

“See how easy it is for me to take you out, Wyatt?” he murmured into her ear, too low for any of the other cadets working their way past them to hear. “You don’t belong here.”

Sam coughed again, glaring at him through tearing eyes, anger only highlighting her humiliation and her helplessness as he held her down. She should have knocked his knees out, she should have put him in an arm pin and snapped that thing clean off.

“Eyes on the ground, pisshead!” he hissed.

He grabbed her head, slamming it hard into the dirt. Sam saw stars, finding the hand gripping her hair, fingers gliding uselessly from the slippery wet of the mud. She couldn’t gain purchase. She was dazed and sloppy now, probably half-concussed, unable to fight him off.

“You will disqualify from the competition today,” Alejandro continued, close to her ear. “Or I’ll make sure you’re disqualified permanently. You get me?”

Sam’s only response was another round of hacking coughs as she expelled the leftover water in her lungs. Satisfied, Alejandro released her just as Rita waded over.

“My God,
is that Sam?”
Rita called out. “Alejo, is she okay?”

“Nearly drowned,” he replied, false concern coloring his tone. “I pulled her out just in time, but I don’t know if she’ll be able to finish.”

“Talk to me,
mija
.” Rita dropped beside her, pushing her friend’s hair out of her eyes as Sam climbed slowly to her hands and knees. “Are you all right?”

Sam coughed again, spitting up more dirty water. Her eyes were tearing now more from anger than anything else as she sat back on her haunches.

Satisfied that he’d gotten his message across, Alejandro jumped back into the water to finish the course.

Rita slapped her back a couple more times, worry in her dark eyes. “What happened?”

“Just go,” Sam wheezed out, pushing her muddy hair back. “You need to make up the time—don’t worry about me.”

“Bullshit, don’t worry about you,” Rita argued. “I only joined this goddamn Challenge because you need me. You think I don’t know I’ll never make the final team?”

“I don’t need you, Rita.” Sam shook her head. “You’re good enough to be here, and you’re plenty good enough to make the final cut—” She coughed hard one last time and wiped a hand down her face. “I don’t want to bring you down.” Sam saw a herd of cadets launch over the barricade, each falling into the water to begin the swim across the channel toward the next set of obstacles.

Rita jutted her chin out. “I’ll go when you’re ready.”

Sam glanced down at her watch. “Shit, Rita, I’ve already lost a few minutes. I don’t know if I can make it up.”

Rita shrugged. “So then let’s sit here and watch everyone else kick our asses.”

Sam glared at her.

“Look,
jaina
—you were at the head of the pack, and now you’re closer to the back,” Rita told her frankly. “You can sit here and mope like a little bitch, or you can get your ass back in that disgusting mud hole and finish the course with your head held high.”

“This from the girl who nearly puked in my car this weekend?” Sam muttered, standing.

The rest of the course was a long, painful drudge, but they made it to the finish just under the cut-off time. Sam was fueled with rage, imagining all the ways she was going to get her revenge when her time came. When Sam and Rita crossed the finish line, she saw Alejandro watching her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Sam walked passed him, head high, just like Rita had suggested.
Gauntlet thrown, asshole
. She wasn’t going to take any of his shit lying down. And she definitely wasn’t going to step aside for him just because he was used to getting his way. They stared each other down for a handful of seconds. Sam felt a slow smirk develop, despite the pain she was in and the embarrassment she felt at having been nearly bested by him.

“Thanks for the ‘help’ earlier, De Soto.” Sam told him meaningfully, loud enough for the cadets around them to hear. “If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have been able to finish,” her tone just this side of sarcastic.

Rita glanced back and forth between the two of them. She knew all about the tension between Sam and her cousin, and the chill just dropped another several degrees.

“Uh…what’s going on, guys… ?” Rita asked cautiously, eyes bounced between them.

“Happy to help,” he replied, walking passed her. He leaned down at the last moment and whispered in her ear, “Watch your back, pisshead.”

September—Friday, Late Afternoon

Memorial Student Center, Texas A&M

S A M A N T H A

S
am glanced down
at her watch as she neared the Memorial Student Center. She hated being late, but her last class had run over, and the professor had a bad habit of leaving homework assignments until the end. Her father and Ryland were probably already waiting for her.

Sam felt happy just thinking about seeing her little brother again. It had only been a few weeks since she’d seen him, but missing Ry was still the hardest thing about transitioning to college life after spending her lifetime caring for her little brother. She’d gone from seeing him every day to once or twice a month, if she was lucky.

As her hand touched the door to the student center, Sam caught her reflection in the glass, her happy mood diminishing. The bruise from Alejandro shoving her face into the ground had bloomed across her cheekbone. She’d tried to cover it up with Rita’s makeup, but the remaining dark smudge was impossible to miss. Her father, with eyes like a hawk, would hone in on it first thing, and Ry would wonder what was going on. She’d have to find a way to explain it without incurring her father’s consternation, or worse, his wrath.

The humiliation of yesterday’s elimination challenge still burned in her gut. She’d basically just laid on the ground, helpless and shaking, while Alejandro threatened her like she was a cowering animal.

Sam looked at the bruise again, her hand tightening on the door.
To hell with that
. She had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. She’d made it through the elimination round after all, even if by a hair. And Alejandro could go screw himself. Let that bastard do his worst. She wouldn’t bow and scrape to him.

“He can kiss my ass,” she muttered, squaring her shoulders as she opened the door to the student center.

“Hey, Sammy!” Ryland called out, eyes alight with excitement and happiness as he caught sight of her across the lobby.

“Hey, Ry,” she called back, her heart expanding.

“There’s a picture of you!” He practically shouted as he bounded toward her, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward a large student art exhibit before she had a chance to hug him.

Ry stopped in front of a large photograph, and Sam took the opportunity to wrap her arms around his small shoulders, giving him a tight hug that nearly lifted him off his feet. Ryland was still skinny and a little scrawny for a twelve-year-old, but he was so winsome and toothy, it didn’t matter. He wiggled a little, laughing before he managed to squirm away enough to point toward the photo.

“See!” he told her excitedly. “It looks like you—just like!”

Sam looked up, surprised to see a large black and white photo of her walking past the Corp Arches, her dark hair whipping in the wind in a dramatic furl. Her face was indistinct in the shot, but she immediately recalled the day it was taken, the blackening storm surrounding her, just minutes before the rains drenched the plains surrounding them.

Sam released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

It was a stunning photo—artfully done. The dark sky behind her was impressive and forbidding, both gorgeous and breathtakingly dangerous, the clouds a wicked spiral. It was just a moment in time, but it looked almost animated. Like you were almost inside the picture if you stared at it long enough.

Her eyes fell to the nameplate by the photo.

Wesley Elliott.

The beautiful photographer was clearly incredibly talented, and now he had a name.

*

September—Same Time

Memorial Student Center, Texas A&M

W E S L E Y

The fine hairs
shot up on the back of his neck as he watched his muse walk across the student center. She was headed toward a dark-haired young boy who stood, bouncing, clearly thrilled to see her.

“The journalist is setting up over there by the couches,” Professor Purcell’s TA was saying. “Hey, Wes? You listening?”

He nodded distractedly, eyes fixed on the girl in front of him. He watched as the boy gripped her hand, pulling her over to the photograph Wes had taken of her.

“The reporter will take a photo of you unless you want to submit a head shot of your own—”

“Thanks,” Wes said, cutting the TA off. “I think I’ve got it. Would you excuse me a moment?”

“But—”

Wes strode across the room, right toward his muse. As he neared her, he heard the boy say, “And it won an award—see? Did you pose for the picture?”

Wes watched her lean in, looking closely at the picture he’d taken of her, as if she were trying to discern if it was her or not.