Chapter Two #2
But one-on-one with a strange man?
“You’ll be fine,” Leo says gently.
Kylo’s stare is flat. Disdainful.
If looks could kill…
“Let’s go,” he clips.
Hugging the bundle of clothes to my chest, I follow him down the hall. He stops at a door and points. “You can change in there.”
A toxic intensity clings to him, the kind I learned to recognize back when things turned violent. He threatened to kill us last night without a second thought, and now I’m supposed to train with him?
After changing, I pull my hair into a ponytail and meet Kylo in one of the training rooms. The fitted sports tank and cargo pants feel surprisingly comfortable. My high-top Chucks are scuffed and worn, but they’re mine.
The training room is massive, like a high-end gym crossed with a combat arena. One side is lined with weights: rows of dumbbells, barbells, and machines designed to push every muscle group to its limit.
Another area is completely padded. The walls, floors, and parts of the ceiling are covered in royal blue mats. Sections of the floor alternate between sleek black rubber and turf, with a track lining the perimeter of the room.
Dozens of punching bags hang from reinforced beams, swaying slightly as if Kylo had been in here hitting them. A climbing rope dangles from the ceiling, and the entire room is flooded with natural light from towering windows that stretch nearly to the rafters.
It’s my nightmare.
The sensation of someone behind me sends a chill down my spine. I turn, and Kylo’s midnight lagoon eyes are on me. He commands the space where he stands, arms crossed over a black trainer shirt, cargo pants matching mine.
No man should look that good in training gear.
“You should see me without it.”
“See you without what?”
“The gear.”
Oh, fuck.
He can read my mind.
I’m already picturing my gravestone: Here lies Lia Lockhart. Mortified beyond saving.
“Yes, I can read your mind,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
Wait. I didn’t say that out loud.
Shit. I did it again.
“Can you stop?”
“Stop what?” he asks, stepping toward me.
“Reading my private thoughts.”
His eyes cloud—pupils disappearing for a split second—before they clear again. He winks. “It’s my power,” he says, unapologetically. “Reading minds is who I am.”
Training with a telepath? Incomprehensible. Unethical.
This arrangement is a waste of time.
“Learning how to protect yourself is a waste of time?”
Damn him.
“I already know self-defense, and I don’t have any abilities—”
One moment he’s standing in front of me, scowling, and the next, he’s gone.
Strong arms wrap around my head, dragging me into a headlock. The soft material of his trainer shirt brushes against my cheek. I claw at his forearms, pushing against the unwelcome contact. My heart kicks, pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest.
My body freezes.
Kylo could do whatever he wanted right now.
Memories try to crawl to the surface.
Hands on me. Hands that never should have been there.
He’s not him, Lia. Don’t lose it.
The last thing I want is Kylo witnessing one of my panic attacks.
“You know self-defense, huh?” He tightens his hold. “Fight me, then.”
I shift in a sad attempt to break free, but his grip is iron.
“I’ll make you turn blue,” he threatens. His lips hover close to my ear, his scruff grazing my skin, breath warm and laced with mint.
“Fight me!” he barks.
Thinking fast, I pull my leg back and kick him in the shin. He grunts, and his grip loosens enough to give me a moment to create space between us. I shove at his chest and stumble back a few steps.
His hands curl into fists. “Giving up that easy?”
For every step I take back, he closes the distance.
“Why aren’t you fighting back? What are you afraid of?”
Men.
And you.
His mask slips, long enough for curiosity to peek through.
“I don’t know how to fight.”
“What has Leo taught you?”
“No offense. Only defense.”
He exhales sharply, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s summoning the patience to deal with me.
Stepping closer, he pauses when I retreat.
He scowls. “I can’t teach you anything if you keep backing away.”
This time, I stay rooted as he approaches.
“I’m going to adjust your arms and legs. Hold still.”
I brace myself, muscles tensing. He moves my arms and wrists, guiding them into position. He nudges my foot, widening my stance.
“See this?” He positions his body into a mirrored form. “You keep your hands up. Elbows in. Strike from here.”
He demonstrates a combination: a punch, a duck under a phantom hit, a sharp turn. His feet barely whisper against the mat as he pivots, but the air shudders from the sheer force of his strikes. I track the movements—frighteningly precise.
My fists, clenched tight a moment ago, unfurl slightly. The stiffness in my neck eases as I follow the rhythm of his movements.
He motions me forward. “Give me something. Throw a punch. Try to hit me.”
I move. Of course, he dodges every attempt with ease.
We go back and forth, switching between hits and stances. Kylo’s fist rushes toward my face, slowing only at the absolute last microsecond. The displaced air brushes my cheek, a cold rush whispering past my eye before his arm snaps back.
We trade strikes until I’m breathless, knocked on my ass and drenched in sweat.
“Good.” He towers over me. “But not good enough. Try harder.”
“Are you joking?” I pant. “I gave this my all.”
“You didn’t land a single hit.”
“Against you? Why would I, when you’re someone who kills for a living?”
His entire body goes rigid. His stare burns, unblinking. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be standing.”
He lifts his palm. My arms fly up, ready for a hit that never comes.
When I lower them, he’s already stepped back. His face twists with something like horror before it hardens into distaste. He storms off, slamming the door behind him.
The tension in my shoulders lingers.
The only certainty is the unnerving ease with which he could’ve hurt me.
Maybe assuming he’s a killer was too harsh.
But the way he fights speaks volumes.
Even with his clipped commands, he taught me more today than I expected. My confidence isn’t soaring, but it’s higher than it was this morning. And even if he doesn’t deserve my sympathy, I could’ve handled that better.
I push myself off the ground, my legs wobbling beneath me. My body protests with every step as I walk down the hall. I pass the kitchen and spot Leo standing by the table, chatting with a man I haven’t seen before.
“How was training?” Leo asks, his posture straightening.
“Fine.”
“What did you learn?”
“Leo, can I talk to you?” I ask.
The man walks over to me. He’s tall and grizzled, probably in his mid-thirties. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His buzzed hair and no-nonsense stance match the pressed utility pants and scuffed boots.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Abel.”
“Lia.”
“Room’s yours. See ya later, Collins,” Abel calls over his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Leo asks.
“Kylo and I aren’t compatible.”
“You don’t need compatibility to learn.”
“He’s…” I trail off, unsure how to explain. “He reminds me of Joaquin. And a little bit of him.”
A man I wish I could wipe from my memory.
Leo’s posture stiffens. “Did he force anything?”
“He didn’t touch me like that. It’s knowing he could.”
“I know I’m asking a lot. I know this is hard, but Kylo isn’t them. They’re all we’ve got.”
We have the option to run away, to leave it all behind.
“Why are we here?” I press. “We’re two college students who worked at a restaurant. We don’t belong here.”
“That life is over.”
“It’s over because you brought us here. We could’ve gone anywhere.”
“There’s no future for us without the Radshaw brothers.”
“What proof do you have that they’re telling the truth—besides your visions?”
He scratches the stubble on his jaw. “My visions are accurate. I know what’s real and what isn’t. Can you please trust me?”
I twirl my hair absently. “What am I supposed to do for the rest of the night? Kylo cut the session short and walked out.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Who says it was my fault?”
He gives me that look.
“I accused him of killing for a living,” I relent.
“Lia,” he exhales, shaking his head but chuckling softly. “Yes, Carter and Kylo take lives, but they hurt the enemy, not innocents. There’s a difference.”
“Killing is killing.”
“Not in this world. If people like Kylo and Carter didn’t exist, the world would be a darker place.”
The thought of taking a life doesn’t sit right. Innocent or not.
“Unless you’re training, you’re free to roam around. This isn’t a prison.”
Why does it feel like one?
“What are your plans for the night?”
“I’ve got more training and meditation to do. Then I’m meeting the guys for dinner. They try to eat together every night—it keeps the camaraderie.”
If Kylo’s there, count me out.
I’ll treat myself to a hot bath.
My muscles are killing me.