But here we go.
Roran
Iwipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, then step back to throw another punch at the bag.
Chris wasn’t kidding when she said,“Let’s go blow off some steam.”She brought me back to the training basement floor, the same one Malec first took me to when I arrived. But now, it feels completely different.
Now, I’m allowed—no, encouraged—to imagine my father’s face on this red punching bag and hit it like my breath depends on seeing him gone.
Maybe it does.
It’s been a while since I felt this fresh and this exhausted at the same time. Like someone finally lifted a rock off my chest. But every time I dare to take a full breath and let go, Diana’s face flashes through my mind again, and I throw another punch. Harder.
“I’m not sure if you love this punching bag or hate it at this point,” Chris calls out, coming around the other side of the bag just as I throw another punch and follow it with a side kick—exactly like I saw her doing earlier.
The bag swings into her, but she catches it with both hands, steady as a rock. Not even a flinch.
It’s clear she was trained right alongside the men.
“Sorry,” I pant, catching my breath. “I just… have too much in my head. I’ve never tried getting it out like this, but I think… it’s working.”
And for a second, I smile.
Not a fake one.
A real, genuine smile. Again.
What is happening to me here?
“We all have our shit,” Chris shrugs. “But your sister is going to be fine. Now that you’re gone, they’ll need her alive to seal the marriage with Miami instead.”
I gasp, my eyes flying wide.
“How do you know?” I rip the wraps off my hands, stepping closer. “Did you hear something?”
She shakes her head, chuckling nervously.
“For these marriages, you have to marry blood with blood. They won’t just grab anyone. It’s not only your family, ours too. I’m just… putting the puzzle together.”
I blink, confused. She didn’t answer my real question.
“No, I mean—how do you know about Ivan and everything else? You’re—” I stop, biting my tongue. My gaze drops to the floor.
“I’m what?”
“You’re… a woman,” I mumble, my voice so small it embarrasses even me.
Then I hear it. A choked laugh—followed by another, louder one. Full, bright laughter filling the entire basement.
Not just from Chris, but from Kayla too. She almost chokes on her water on the bench.
My brows knit together, and I plant my hands on my hips. “Don’t laugh! I was just asking!”
“I’m sorry—” Chris raises her hands, still laughing. “I’m sorry, but you sound like you crawled out of another century.‘You’re a woman’?Most of the women in our family run everything. The men? They’re mostly for show,” she snorts.
She points at Kayla. “That girl over there? In a few years, she’s going to run… well, a lot. Me? I work and train with my parents to help Kayla in that future.”
I don’t realize how wide my eyes are until Kayla bursts out laughing again and throws a playful jab at me. I blink a few times, gathering myself, then dare to ask:
