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I lashed out with a roundhouse kick, which he blocked effortlessly. The impact jolted through me, a visceral reminder that I was there, alive, and still fighting.
"Good!" Ansel cheered from the side now. "Now stop pulling your punches."
"Wasn't aware I was." My response came out breathless as I followed up with a series of jabs, each one parried by Kylo's quick reflexes.
"Your body remembers trauma," Ansel approached to adjust my stance. "It hesitates where your mind does not. Trust yourself, Averill. Trust that you know how to hit—and when."
"Better?" I asked and threw a mock jab at Kylo's shoulder.
"Getting there," Kylo replied with a grin.
"Let's take a break,” Ansel suggested and stepped back to give us space. "You're doing great, Averill. Really."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," I huffed, but my chest warmed at his words. I collapsed into one of the plush chairs that lined the room, my limbs heavy but oddly satisfied.
"Water?" Kylo offered and tossed me a bottle.
"Thanks." I took a long gulp and felt the cool liquid soothe my burning throat. "So, what's next? We gonna wax on, wax off, or am I going to learn how to catch flies with chopsticks?"
"Patience," Ansel chastised gently, even though his lips twitched in amusement. "Mastery comes with time and?—"
"Blah, blah, blah," I interrupted and waved a hand dismissively. "Spare me the fortune cookie wisdom."
"Fine," Kylo interjected and squatted down to my level. "What do you want, Averill? What's driving you?"
"Revenge," I locked eyes with him. "Closure. And maybe a little bit of self-preservation."
"Then use that," Kylo urged. "Channel it into every move. Make your anger your fuel, not your handcuffs."
"Guess it's time to make friends with the beast."
"Exactly," Ansel nodded. "You're not alone in this fight, Averill. Remember that."
"Right," I said and stood up to stretch. "Because nothing says 'team bonding' like beating the crap out of each other."
"Come on, Averill," Kylo taunted and circled me like a predator. "Let that anger out. You're holding back."
"Am I?" My eyes narrowed. My fists clenched reflexively, and I felt the coiled springs of frustration ready to snap. I lunged forward, faking left before striking right, but he dodged effortlessly, his grin infuriatingly cocky.
"Better," he acknowledged, "but you can do more. Push harder."
Ansel's voice cut through the tension. "Picture Oswin, Averill. Imagine it's him you're fighting."
The image of Oswin, smirking with the newspaper clipping in hand, flashed through my mind and ignited a wildfire of rage. I channeled it into my next move and braced for the impact.
But instead of the solid thud of my foot against Kylo's side, I felt myself falling, the world dissolving around me in a kaleidoscope of light and motion.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in the training room, poised to strike. Kylo circled me once again, taunting me to push harder. I blinked in confusion - hadn't I just kicked him? But no, we were back in the same starting positions.
"What just happened?" I muttered.
"I believe the kids these days would say you got your ass whooped." A knowing smirk played on Ansel's lips.
I glanced over at him and sweat streamed down my temples. "Thanks, Captain Obvious."
"Focus!" Kylo snapped, regaining his footing and coming at me again.
I parried his attacks, each block and counterstrike punctuated by the drumming rain against the mansion's windows. I moved with intent now, every muscle fiber woven with the threads of vengeance.
