“On top of our regular training?” Fenrir shakes his head. “I know it’s rich coming from me, but you might want to chill about this. At least until we’ve won the matches. There’s no use tiring yourself out and handing the win to the losers from Stoltzburg U.”
“It’s good practice,” I tell him.
It’s really not.
There are no clean fights out there. There are no refs to make sure we’re keeping things above the belt, only doing legal moves. I don’t have to worry about perfect form and scoring.
The only thing that matters is overpowering my opponent.
“Anyway, don’t worry about it,” I add. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. And if I tap you right here—” Fenrir pushes against the dark bruise on my shoulder. I inhale sharply, but I don’t budge.
I’ve experienced worse pain than this.
I’ll experience worse pain than this when I go home.
Whydo I care about Pandora Pavone?
Fenrir laughs. “Fair enough.”
He launches a proper right hook at me, and I raise my arms to protect myself. Fenrir follows up with a blow to my side, and I manage to deflect that too.
Fenrir’s attacks are relentless now, and I struggle to find an opening. It’s not until he steps back, bouncing on his feet, that I take my chance.
Fenrir avoids it easily, rewarding me with a hard punch to the gut. I gasp and stumble, but I stay upright.
“Sloppy, River,” Fenrir says. “That one was obvious.” He steps back and lowers his hands. “Take a break. Take the rest of the week off, even. You’re going to make us lose at this rate.”
Anger spikes at his words, and I throw a punch at him. He had to have expected it because he deflects it as easily as I’d dodged his attacks.
More easily.
“Yeah, okay,” I say. “I’ll take a few days off.”
Assuming I don’t get lured back by the promise of violence, the taste of blood on my tongue, and the feeling of landing blows with my bare fists.
It suddenly feels like a big ask.
Fenrir meets my gaze. “If I hear about you going to the fights, I’m going to have to snitch. Don’t do that to me. I don’t want to be a narc.”
I stare at him. “What the actual fuck, Fenrir?” I demand. “You’re the one who brought me there to begin with. So what if I’m enjoying getting to take the gloves off and have a real fight? Just because you don’t want to lose against Stoltzburg?”
“Because I shouldn’t have been able to take you that easily,” Fenrir counters. “You’re off your game, River. Those fights are fun once in a while, but you’ll end up permanently damaging your fists.”
I let out an ugly laugh. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want to get maimed or anything,” I tell him. “Whatever, man. I’ll take a break untilafter the next match. If you’re happy, I’m going to hit the showers and get out of here.”
I’ve let Pandora off the hook for too long, anyway. It’s been almost a day, and she hasn’t even texted me. It’s past time to confront her.
Fenrir nods, but I’m sure if he weren’t wearing his gloves, he’d be flipping me off right now.
I get the team gofer to remove my gloves, and I grab a towel off him with barely a grunt before I head to the locker rooms. The coach waves to me as I leave.
If he wasn’t concerned about my performance, why the fuck was Fenrir getting up in my ass about it?
I head to the locker room, my steps slowing when I pass the saunas, and my jaw clenches. I grab my phone out of my locker and stare at it for a moment, trying to figure out if I should bother with trying to help Pandora.
I’d come here with the intention of exacting revenge on her, and in a way, I have.
