The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 381

Chapter 381: 381 | Jealousy, Promises, and an Unwelcome Witness

I thought about Sloane. About the Bond Resonance humming between us. About the night we’d spent together and the morning after and every complicated feeling that had emerged from both.

"No," I said. "It’s not going to be a problem."

Petra studied me for another long moment, then nodded once. "Good. The faculty liaison should be arriving shortly. Try to look professional."

She returned to her seat and opened her planner again, effectively ending the conversation. I sat in the silence she’d created, thinking about the web of relationships I’d built since arriving at Halloran and wondering which threads would hold and which would snap when the pressure increased.

The door opened and Steele walked in with her coffee and her usual energy, bringing the meeting officially into session. But even as I focused on the agenda items and the coordination requirements and the logistics of the Crucible exercise, part of my attention remained on Petra Lang and the way she’d looked at me when I said the word survival.

Like she recognized something. Like she understood something she hadn’t expected to understand.

The meeting lasted two hours. By the end of it, I had a clearer picture of what the Crucible would involve and a marginally better working relationship with my co-representative. Petra and I had managed to agree on three separate items without arguing, which felt like progress.

I found Sloane waiting in the hallway outside the faculty building.

She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and her pink hair catching the late afternoon light, and the moment she saw me, the Bond Resonance flared with a possessiveness so intense it was almost physical. She pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us in three quick steps.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"How was the meeting?"

"Productive. Petra and I managed to be in the same room for two hours without violence."

"Impressive." But her voice was flat, and her eyes were searching my face for something I couldn’t quite identify.

"Sloane."

"You were with Felicity." Not a question. A statement. "Earlier. In the cafeteria."

The Bond Resonance meant she’d felt something through our connection. Probably nothing specific, just a general sense of my emotional state shifting in ways that suggested proximity to someone who affected me.

"We talked," I said. "About Percy. About the Crucible. Nothing happened."

"I know nothing happened." Her jaw tightened. "I would have felt it if something happened. That’s not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

She looked away, and I could see the conflict playing out across her features. Sloane Fitzgerald, who had spent nine years watching me without acting, who had agreed to an arrangement that went against every possessive instinct she possessed, who had told me she loved me in the darkness of her room while her body trembled against mine.

"I don’t know," she admitted quietly, her voice carrying a vulnerability that made my chest tighten. "I just... I needed to see you. I needed to remember what you look like when you’re looking at me and not someone else."

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