Chapter Four
Lia
“Good morning, Lia. There are bagels, fruit, eggs, and meat if you’re hungry,” Carter says as I step into the room.
He sips from a white mug, with Leo seated beside him.
The room smells like fresh coffee. “Mind if I have some coffee?”
“I’ll grab it for you,” Leo says, already moving toward the counter.
By the time I sit down, he’s handing me an iced coffee with a splash of milk.
Exactly how I like it.
“Thanks.” I take a sip.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Best sleep of my life,” I say dryly.
“Nothing a little caffeine won’t fix,” Carter says casually, lifting his mug for another sip.
I’d gone months without thinking about Julian.
Last night broke that streak.
Every time I drifted off, he was there again—the same horrid moment replaying, trapping me in that room with him. His face would morph into Abel’s.
His hands.
His voice.
I thought maybe Carter and I had bonded. But after what Abel did, after seeing what his men are capable of, I want out.
Away from this place.
Away from all of them.
My coffee tastes like ash. I push the mug aside, repulsed by everything tied to this building. If Kylo told Carter what happened, he doesn’t show it. Neither does Leo. They talk, sip, and move like it’s another perfect morning.
“Ready for day two of training?” Leo asks.
“Not like I have a choice, do I?”
He frowns. “Something wrong?”
Carter watches us quietly from across the table.
“Peachy,” I say.
“What happened?” Leo asks.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Kylo says, stepping into the kitchen.
He’s wearing the same kind of training gear, only today it’s navy cargo pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with combat boots.
He doesn’t break stride as he approaches. I straighten without meaning to, my shoulders squaring.
“Abel put his hands on Lia last night,” Kylo says, like he’s reporting a routine update.
All three men stare at me. A slow burn climbs my neck beneath their intensity.
“Come again?” Leo asks.
“Tell them,” Kylo says, turning to me, passing the silence over like a ticking bomb.
“I… he…”
“Spit it out,” Kylo demands.
He’s another man who touched me without my permission.
The harsh line of his mouth flattens. “Another?”
“Stop reading my mind.”
Carter rises from his seat. The scrape of the chair cuts through the room. “Kylo, give her a break and tell us what happened.”
“I walked in on Abel coming onto Lia. The sick bastard was touching her after she told him no.”
“Why am I hearing about this now?” Carter asks.
“You were sleeping.”
“Why didn’t you handle it?”
Kylo shrugs. “Thought I’d run his demise by you first.”
“Noted,” Carter mutters. “I’ll see you all later. I have business to attend to.”
Leo scans me for injuries. “Did he hurt you? I’m sorry, Lia. I—”
“Stop.” I cut him off. “This isn’t your fault. One man’s actions shouldn’t fall on your shoulders. Abel was drinking, and—”
“Drinking or not, it’s not okay,” Leo says, letting out a harsh sigh. “Do you want to take the day off? I understand if you need a break from training.”
Kylo lingers nearby, watching. Part of me wants to say yes, to take the easy way out. But if I do, I’ll be left alone with my thoughts. And right now, spending time with my thoughts sounds worse than spending time with Kylo.
“I want to train.”
“Take a break if you need, alright?”
“I’ll manage.”
I pull my shoulders back, scanning the room. Always checking. Always braced.
“What the hell are you doing, Carter!” Abel yells from the hallway.
Carter reappears, dragging Abel with him by the collar of his shirt.
“Apologize to Lia,” Carter says without inflection.
“I was drunk! Calm the fuck down. You’re taking this out of proportion.”
Carter kicks Abel to the floor and stands over him, aiming a blade at his chest. “This is my compound. You follow my rules. You respect our guests. Our people. You don’t lay a hand on them or try to force them into doing something they don’t want to do.
I promised Leo and Lia safety. You breached that boundary.
” He grabs Abel by the hair, yanking his head up. “Apologize.”
Abel lifts his chin in defiance. “Fuck. You.”
Carter nods at Kylo. “Your turn.”
Kylo lifts Abel off the ground without touching him. Abel hangs suspended, shoes scraping the floor as he floats limply.
“Take this dog out,” Carter says. “He’s not welcome here anymore.”
Abel thrashes. “Carter! I’ve been fighting alongside you for years!” he shouts as Kylo hauls him away. “You’re choosing one insignificant, powerless woman over me?”
Carter drags a hand down his face. “I apologize, Lia. Abel won’t be welcome here again.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, echoing what I told Leo.
Kylo clears his throat from the doorway.
“Is he gone?” Carter asks.
“Yes.” His eyes shift to me. “I’m ready when you are.”
Following Kylo into the training room, I step onto the mats, bracing myself for whatever he has planned.
“Today we’re working on surprise. I’ll attack without warning. Your job is to fight me off. Then we’ll lift. Strength matters.”
Oh, yay. Weight training.
His eyes narrow slightly, like he heard that.
“How does your telepathy work, exactly? Do you hear all my thoughts?”
“I actively tune you out, but if we’re in the same room and a thought’s loud enough, I might hear it.”
Selective mind reading. Interesting.
“Arms up. Your goal is to dodge me. Don’t get hit.”
He charges. I pivot out of the way, but he slams me onto the mat.
He hauls me up and does it again.
And again.
And again.
I’m tossed left, right, up, down. No telekinesis. Nothing but his hands on my skin and the brutal repetition of my body hitting the padded floor.
The worst part? His breathing doesn’t change. His damn hair isn’t even out of place.
“You’re not putting in effort. You won’t see results if you don’t try.”
“Says who?”
“You give up when I reach you. You freeze. You don’t fight back. That hesitation will get you killed in combat.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I’m doing the job I was assigned.”
“You’re doing it poorly.”
“Let’s talk about what happened last night.”
He steps close, and I instinctively back up. He bends down, looking right at me as I shrink away, my chin tilting up to meet his eyes.
His arms stay at his sides, but the proximity alone steals my breath. Those gray flecks in his deep blue eyes, framed by a darker ring, make it impossible to look away.
“Why didn’t you fight him off? Why did you stand there?”
“Do you believe I chose to freeze like that?”
His fingertips graze my collarbone. “I’m touching you. What are you going to do about it?”
“Get off me.”
“Make me.”
My shove connects with solid muscle. His stance remains rooted.
“Stand up for yourself,” he says. “Freezing isn’t an excuse in a fight.”
All my weight goes into the next one, and he stumbles back a few feet.
“Not bad. Keep it up. Show me what you’ve got.”
I charge at Kylo, driving a punch toward his side. He dodges with infuriating ease, shifting just enough for my fist to miss. I pivot, aiming a quick jab at his shoulder. He blocks it effortlessly, his forearm snapping up with practiced precision.
Every move he makes teaches me something. He glides backward, barely making a sound. His feet shift diagonally instead of straight back, opening angles I hadn’t considered. His arms stay loose, primed like springs.
Mimicking his footwork, I adjust my stance.
Left, then right. A feinted kick follows.
He smirks, and there’s a flicker of approval in his eyes.
He sweeps low to catch me off-balance. I jump, steadying myself.
I twist into a roundhouse kick—not perfect, but better than before. He ducks under it and spins away.
“Better,” he assesses.
We test new combinations. A high punch, a low kick, then an elbow jab into his ribs. He blocks the first two. The third almost lands.
He shoves me back, resetting the distance. “Again.”
Panting, I lunge at him, muscles burning, lungs screaming. I throw punch after punch, kick after kick, hoping one might land hard enough to take him down.
He doesn’t give an inch.
It’s not him hitting the ground. It’s me.
He slams me to the mat, holding back enough to avoid serious damage, but not enough to make it easy. He avoids my face, but the impact of each fall still rattles my spine.
“Up,” he orders.
Every push off the floor is like dragging my body out of quicksand.
His arm whips out, a blur that hits me square in the chest. The wind rips from my lungs. I collapse, gasping, the floor tilting beneath me as the room spins.
Kylo is above me now, his shadow looming. One arm pulled back like he’s going to strike, and for a split second, I’m no longer here.
I’m there.
Joaquin’s face morphs in place of Kylo’s, standing over me, hand raised, fury in his eyes. I brace for the blow—
Kylo’s hand lowers, offering it. I don’t know if it’s my equilibrium or the thought of him hitting me, but nausea churns in my gut.
Scrambling to my feet, I sprint toward the trash can. I barely make it in time before I retch. I use one hand to pull my hair back while the other clutches the rim for support.
“We’re done for the day. There are electrolyte drinks in the fridge.”
The door slams shut.
Why can’t my past stay in the past?
My gut finally stops clenching.
I keep close to the hallway wall, easing toward the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, I’m relieved to see no one there. I grab one of the drinks Kylo so kindly recommended, then head straight back to my room.
Only two days in, and my body already feels like it’s been thrown in a blender.
Bypassing the mirror, I strip down and step into the shower, letting the water rinse off the sweat and soreness. It’s not enough. I twist the knob, fill the tub, and sink into the hot water, hoping it will soak the pain out of my bones.
Even submerged, the tension and sickness linger.
It always lingers.