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“Simple.” He beckons me over with two fingers. “Punch me.”
“I…can do that?”
“No, but you can try.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I can punch you.”
A slight twitch lifts the corner of his lip. “Try then.”
“What do I get if I manage to do it?”
“Any reward you pick.”
“You’re underestimating me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe you’re the one overestimating yourself.” He beckons me again.
“One punch, right? Anywhere?”
“In the face.”
“I’d hate to ruin your handsome features.”
A rare smirk curves his lips. “You find me handsome?”
Shit.“It’s…common sense.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t worry, Sasha. You’ll do nothing to myhandsomefeatures. Now, are you going to stand there all day?”
I don’t waste time and lunge at him. Not only does he duck, but he also hits me in the back, knocking me down on the mat with effortless ease.
Pain throbs along my lower belly and back, but I manage to get up again. Kirill stays put, his expression as calm as a monk.
Okay. I didn’t think this would be easy, but then again, while I personally witnessed Kirill being an excellent sniper, I don’t know much about his combat skills. He did throw me against the wall when I was attempting to protect him from Karina. He also hit Damien and inflicted damage, which means he does have strength.
He just chooses not to show it.
“Again.” Another beckoning with two fingers.
That motion is starting to piss me off.
I summon all my strength and sprint toward him at full speed. My feet give out from underneath me, and I end up on the ground with a more painful thud than earlier.
He didn’t even let me come close this time. I glare up at his neutral expression, and now, I do wish to inflict damage on those features.
“Again.”
I stand up on wobbly feet and fling off my jacket, toss it out of the ring, then roll the sleeves of my shirt up.
Kirill’s face remains the same. Timeless and emotionless. It doesn’t change. Not when I let out a battle cry and raise my fist, not when I attempt to punch him, and certainly not when he throws me against the ground. Again and again andagain.
One hour later, I haven’t managed to touch him, let alone punch him.
My shirt sticks to my back with sweat. I’m breathing so heavily, I’m nearly wheezing, and my organs feel rearranged from the number of impacts I’ve taken.
He doesn’t do it in a way that would inflict permanent damage, but he’s so firm in his subduing methods that I feel each and every one of them.
Other guards surround us, having finished their individual training.
