Quaritch hadn’t expected that.

Pandora had given him a lot—new bones, sharper instincts, a world that refused to bend—but her? She was something else entirely. Confident to the point of provocation, eyes bright with mischief and challenge, movements deliberate in a way that made it impossible to tell whether she was testing him or daring him to fail.

She didn’t shrink from him. Didn’t flinch at his size, his scars, his reputation. Instead, she circled closer, tilting her head like she already knew exactly how far she could push before he pushed back. Every glance felt intentional. Every step into his space felt like a calculated risk she enjoyed taking.

Quaritch had faced ambushes, mutinies, and impossible odds without hesitation.

This was different.

There was a sharpness to her attention, a pleasure in control and disruption that mirrored his own—twisted just enough to keep him off balance. He found himself watching her more than the terrain, anticipating her moves the way he would an enemy he respected.

Dangerous. Complicated. Intriguing as hell.

Pandora hadn’t just handed him a challenge.

It had handed him a temptation that knew exactly what it was doing—and had no intention of pretending otherwise.