Chapter 19: You’re Blessed

Finn was itching for a real fight now. One goal burned in his gut: get into Arlan A-Class Military Academy. Before, his odds were slim—barely a flicker. Now? He'd bumped it to fifty-fifty. Not bad for a guy who'd been stuck in a gravity rig nightmare for two weeks.

"After school, no bailing. You're training with me," Finn said, smirking at Mark.

"No way, you're serious?" Mark groaned, slumping dramatically.

"Dead serious. Even a gossip reporter needs stamina. Your body's a mess—don't even think about running. You're no match for me."

Mark was toast. He'd tried fighting back yesterday and got flattened—Finn didn't even break a sweat. No clue his buddy's skills could now give a pro assassin a run for their money.

Finn and a wilted Mark shuffled into class, but once the lecture started, Finn's energy tanked too. He still couldn't stomach this classroom junk. Sure, he was a smidge better at it than before—just a smidge—but within minutes, his head hit the desk, out cold.

Big, open-style lectures like this? No one cared. The teacher droned on about studying for exams, then plowed ahead, ignoring the snoozers.

The bell jolted Finn awake, along with half the class. He rubbed his eyes, unimpressed. Waste of time. He'd rather cook up a new workout plan. Physical tests for Arlan? Nailed it. But the other stuff—written exams, strategy drills—he needed prep.

Yeah, that's the move. I'll hit the net later, dig up some tips.

The rowdy classroom fell dead silent. Mark elbowed Finn hard. "Dude, look!"

Finn glanced up—and froze. Taylor Lynn.

What's she doing here?

She was still drop-dead gorgeous, no doubt, but that old flutter in his chest? Barely a twitch now. Weird.

Taylor had wrestled with herself before showing up. She couldn't swallow the sting of Finn ditching her party—no call, no note, nothing. She'd marched over to demand answers, ready to chew him out.

But the second she stepped in, her senses locked onto him. Not just her eyes—her gut screamed it. Finn stood out like a neon sign, impossible to miss. And for the first time, she felt it: danger. Before, he'd just piqued her curiosity. Now? He was a beast in human skin.

She steadied herself, walking toward him slow and deliberate. Every eye in the room tracked her—Taylor Lynn, the untouchable GAD princess, a future VIP bound for headlines. The rest of them? Background noise.

"Finn, can we talk? Alone?" Her voice was smooth, but firm.

The class went bug-eyed, jaws on the floor. The GAD princess talking to a guy? That guy? Finn, the class nobody?

Mark snapped out of it first, gripping Finn's arm like a lifeline. "Hell yeah, he's free! Hey, Taylor Lynn, I'm Mark—Finn's best bud!"

"Nice to meet you," she replied with a polite smile, her gaze sliding back to Finn.

"Go, man!" Mark hissed, practically shoving him. "Don't keep a girl waiting—gentleman 101!"

They stepped out, and the room erupted—classmates swarming Mark, desperate for dirt. GAD's golden girl slumming it with Finn? Minds blown. But Mark was as clueless as they were. Finn had shrugged it off, saying Taylor just handed him an invite one day, barely a word swapped.

Outside, silence hung heavy. Taylor wanted to snap—unload her frustration—but Finn's vibe shut her down. Something raw and powerful rolled off him, smothering her usual fire.

"Sorry about the party," Finn broke the quiet. "I meant to go, but I ended up in the hospital. No excuse—just bad timing."

"Hospital?" Taylor blinked, caught off guard. "What happened? Injury? Sick?"

She regretted it instantly. I should've grilled him, not gone soft. But concern slipped out anyway.

Finn grinned, brushing it off. "All good now."

Taylor stared, thrown. No guy had ever stayed this chill around her—calm as a rock.

"Well, you still owe me a birthday gift," she said, half-teasing, half-serious.

Finn froze. GAD's princess? What could she possibly want from me? He didn't have squat to offer.

"Uh… what do you want?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Hmm…" Taylor tapped her chin, a playful glint in her eye. "Let me think about it. I'll tell you later. Back to class for now."

Finn watched her go, puzzled. What's her deal? He couldn't figure out why she'd waste time on him. With her status, she didn't need to. Still, a little thrill sparked up—being this close to his old crush felt damn good.

But Taylor wasn't his main target anymore. He was gunning to be a real warrior—maybe even a general.

Back in class, Mark pounced, the mob of gossip hounds hot on his heels. This was prime dirt—human curiosity dialed to eleven.

Mark, future gossip king, couldn't let it slide. "Spill it, man! I'll die if you don't!" He was ready to dig, but then glanced around, wary. "Wait—after school. Slow and juicy. Exclusive scoop!"

Finn smirked. "Fine, but you're finishing today's workout. No slacking."

"Yeah, yeah, naggy old man," Mark grumbled, but he didn't fight it. Only a real bro would care enough to push him.

The gossip crew stared, drooling for details. Mark soaked it up—this is the life. He'd be the top scoop-chaser in USE—no, the whole damn world.

Training was a breeze for Finn—Mark's "workout" barely registered. They jogged, Finn keeping pace, spilling the bare bones of his chat with Taylor. Nothing major, but Mark's eyes lit up like he'd struck gold.

"Bro, you're blessed!" Mark crowed, panting. "With my genius and street smarts, I'm calling it—Princess Taylor's got a thing for you."

Cliffhanger

Finn stopped mid-stride, eyebrows shooting up. Taylor? Into me? Mark's wild guess hung in the air, but before Finn could laugh it off, a shadow flickered at the edge of the track—Zoe Weaver, watching from afar, her gaze sharp and calculating. Finn's gut twisted. Something big was brewing, and he was smack in the middle of it—whether he liked it or not.