Xaden was leaning against the wall, his taut arms crossed firmly over his chest. It was Battle Brief, a class he loathed purely because of the lies.

He raised his hand, scratching at the rebellion relic tattooed on the side of his neck. His jaw was clenched, brows furled. Out of all the wingleaders, he looked the deadliest and he was most definitely the strongest.

His eyes slid over to one of the first-year Cadets who was seated next to her friend and his eyes blazed into a hateful glare.