CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sam stood on the training ground, holding a long staff, facing off with yet another of Aiden's men. There were dozens of his warriors there, and by now, Sam had faced nearly all of them. None of them had posed even the slightest challenge.

Sam didn't know what it was, but it seemed as if everyone else were moving in slow motion next to him. He’d anticipated their every move, was always a second ahead of them, always felt when to sidestep, dodge, duck, or strike. It had been like cutting through butter, and Sam was amazed at his own skills and power.

Facing him now was Cain—large, muscular, and holding a long staff just like Sam's. He charged, scowling.

But he was no match for Sam. As Cain swung wildly, Sam blocked blow after blow. Cain couldn't get anywhere close.

When Sam was ready, he knocked Cain’s staff clear out of his hands with one sharp strike, and the staff when flying over his head, and into the crowd. Sam then followed up with a hard jab in the solo plexus, knocking Cai