Training continued for three more days. Each session, I got stronger, faster, more confident. Daren pushed me relentlessly, but I pushed back. We fell into a rhythm—attack and counter, strike and block, a deadly dance that left us both exhausted. But something was changing between us. It started small. The way his hand would linger when he helped me up. The way his eyes would track me across the training yard. The way he'd pause sometimes, mid-instruction, and just look at me like he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before. And I wasn't immune either. I found myself watching him when he demonstrated techniques. Admiring the way he moved, all controlled power and lethal grace. Noticing details—the scar on his jaw, the way his eyes softened when he smiled, which was rare, the sound of his laugh when I actually managed to land a hit on him. "You're distracted," he said on the third day, pinning me easily. "I'm tired." "You're distracted," he repeated. "What's going on in tha
Última atualização : 2026-02-01 Ler mais