Chapter Eighteen
Lia
My feet pound against the floor.
Faster. I have to go faster.
My legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath me. The space around me is dark and empty except for the glow of his snake-like eyes.
Devoid of humanity. Of remorse. Of love.
The man who taught me what true fear is—the kind that settles into your bones and never leaves. The one who made pain a daily ritual.
He forced Leo and me to learn how to dress our wounds in silence.
Taught us to be seen, not heard.
To disappear.
To hide.
To run, because if we didn’t, we’d suffer something worse than death.
“Lia, run!” Leo yells, just ahead of me.
I’m not fast enough.
I can’t keep up.
He’s going to catch us.
Joaquin is right behind me, gaining fast.
His hand stretches out, long fingers hovering inches from my back as my feet give out and I stumble.
I wake with a gasp, heart pounding against my ribs. The room slowly comes into focus.
I’m here. Not there.
It was just a nightmare. Nothing more.
Peeling myself out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror reveals the usual dark circles and a hollowed-out version of myself staring back.
My nightmare wasn’t a memory for once. My fears had manifested under the moonlight.
That kind of terror doesn’t come from imagination or a warped subconscious. It comes from the life I’ve endured.
Thankfully, the week following my missed training has been quiet and uneventful. Carter calls me in for at least thirty minutes of meditation every day, while the rest of my day is spent training with Kylo.
I’ve learned to move and focus simultaneously, shedding the habit of standing frozen like a statue. Now, I can sprint down the line without tripping over my own feet, and my punches land where I want them to.
Yesterday, I even managed to duck one of Kylo’s swings and catch him clean across the ribs. I had to bite back a grin for the rest of the day.
The look of pure shock on his face was worth every lap I’ve ever run.
The small wins are what count. I take a breath, composing myself for the day ahead.
“Come on, Lia. Use more power!”
Kylo demands I move a thirty-pound plate, a massive leap from the ten-pound weight I barely managed to nudge the other day. I know I’m improving, but Marco’s taunts loop through my head like a parasite.
I’m nowhere near their level. It could take years to catch up.
“Fix your mindset.” He snakes an arm around my neck, pulling me into a firm chokehold. “Free yourself. You know what to do.”
Adrenaline surges, cutting through my self-doubt. I grab his hand, wrenching it as I twist my torso. I plant a solid kick into his midsection and spin out of his reach.
My legs shake with every step, and my arms feel heavy, as if my limbs have been filled with wet sand. Between the lifting, the sprints, the sparring, and more mental work than I can handle, I’m running on fumes.
“See? You couldn’t do that a month ago,” he says, circling in again.
I pivot, staying light on the balls of my feet. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
He sweeps my ankle. I lose my balance, but he catches me. His grip tightens around my wrist, and he leans in until our noses nearly touch. “Let’s turn it up a notch.”
He releases me, the loss of his touch leaving a cold trail along my skin.
We work through a variation of throws, kicks, and punches.
Nothing escapes his notice. Each time I falter, he stops me and makes me reset until I get it right.
We move in a circle, drawn together like magnets, our movements falling into sync. I’m finally catching on, and it’s exhilarating.
He steps in with a punch. I duck too fast, and my footing slips. His hand closes around my wrist. “Easy. I don’t need you tripping into a concussion.”
The contact burns and softens me all at once.
Our eyes lock, and my pulse hammers.
His attention drops, lingering on my mouth.
I’ve never wanted a kiss more. I want to lean in, to bridge the final inch.
“You’re not making this any easier on me.” His hands find the base of my neck, fingers tightening just enough to keep me where he wants me.
My mind is shouting a single, desperate command: Kiss me. Please.
His mouth crashes into mine, stealing my breath. The kiss is a contradiction—wild and urgent, yet slow, as if he’s meticulously learning the shape of my mouth.
A soft moan slips out of me. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, fisting the fabric as I pull him closer to keep myself upright.
I didn’t know a kiss could feel like this.
It’s fierce and tender, like drowning and breathing all at once. I could get lost in him—the feel of him, the way he touches me.
He lowers me onto the mat, his lips never leaving mine. He pins my wrists above my head as he explores the line of my jaw, kissing and nipping.
“You taste like everything I’ve never had and always wanted,” he murmurs against my neck.
I kiss him harder this time, catching his bottom lip between mine. His hands tangle in my hair as I move beneath him, the heat in my core tightening into a desperate ache. His fingers brush against my collarbone, sending a shiver through my entire frame.
He reaches for the hem of my shirt, his knuckles grazing my skin, and I arch into the touch.
A sharp creak sounds, followed by the slam of a door.
The veil of privacy shreds in an instant.
Kylo jerks back several feet.
The warmth of him evaporates, leaving a cold rush behind. He’s across the mat before the loss fully registers.
Carter stands in the doorway, fists in his pockets.
A pang of regret radiates from Kylo, like a stab to my core.
Shame replaces my earlier elation, quickly followed by something worse.
Rejection.
Carter clears his throat. “My deepest apologies for interrupting your… training.” His gaze shifts between us, heavy with the judgment of a disappointed parent. “Marco spotted an Aether Hunter near here.”
He pauses, his eyes lingering on me a beat before turning back to Kylo. “Zayne and I agree it’s best we pack up and leave for Canada within the next few days. I recommend intensifying your training sessions while we still can. We won’t have the luxury once we’re on the road.”
Carter exits. Kylo’s right behind him, his movements stiff and hurried, as if he can’t put enough distance between us. He doesn’t spare me a glance.
Silence takes over, the kind that sinks its teeth into the places that hurt most. The hollow, ringing quiet that follows something you can’t take back.
The hollowness isn’t just for Carter’s warning.
It’s for everything that just happened.
And everything that didn’t.