Fifteen
LIANA
“I want you to watch their footwork, their tactical moves, and their skills,” Remi says, dragging a chair for me to sit on. “Their moves are always premeditated, their eyes scanning each other’s movements in search of a weakness to make it easy to sweep the other off their feet. I need you to watch them carefully and repeat their moves to me.”
“Repeat it to you?” I ask, my eyes never leaving Cass and Silas as they stand on opposite sides of the open sparring area.
“If you’re going to learn, you first need to understand what they’re doing and how they’re doing it.”
“Okay.”
“You two ladies ready?” he calls out.
Both Silas and Cass don’t spare a second glance in our direction, nodding at his question. “Ready.” Their steady voices sound around the arena in unison.
“Then get to it.”
Without hesitation, they both lunge at each other. Their bare fists collide with each other’s faces, torso and any bare skin they can reach.
“It’s all a manic mess. I can’t make out anything they’re doing,” I admit, my voice shaking with nervous energy, squinting my eyes as if to get a better look.
“What do you see?” he pries.
“A bunch of flailing limbs, I don’t know.” My tone comes off as annoyed. “Do I really need to play this game with you, Remi? It’s almost impossible to catch anything. They’re moving too fast.”
“Then you have to look harder, Liana. This isn’t for my enjoyment, you know. Watching them work shows you how they defend themselves against each other’s blows. It’s an example of how difficult this can be, but how rewarding it’ll be when you have use it in a life or death scenario. We’ve all had to defend ourselves at some point in our lives, and it’s saved us. Being my brother’s wife, you’ll need it… So tell me, what do you see?”
Inhaling deeply, I focus my sole attention on them in an attempt to dictate every single thing about the way they move. “It’s obvious Silas is more skilled,” I start. “It’s like he can predict Cassian’s next move. He throws fewer punches—”
“Why?”
“Why what?” I ask, tearing my eyes off them to find his side profile.
“Eyes back on them, Liana,” he states, sounding like my fourth grade teacher telling me to keep my eyes on my own paper. “Why isn’t he punching as much as Cass?”
“To be able to counteract the next few blows. He’s looking for a pattern, something that tells him where and when Cass will strike next, and with how much force. He’s reading him like an open book.”
“Okay, now Cass. Focus on him now.”
“He’s… too predictable. He uses the same sequence over and over—one jab with each fist before plowing into Silas’s torso with two strikes of his right fist. Then, finishing it off with a single hit with his left one. It’s like a broken record on repeat. He needs to switch it up, let impulse take control, not habit.”
“Good, now back to Silas. What’s that keen eye telling you about the way he’s holding himself?”
“He’s withdrawn, almost as if he’s not there with Cass. His emotionless eyes mock Cassian, almost as if daring him to get so worked up that he’ll wear himself out. It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s strategic, actually,” he clarifies. “He’s saving his strength for the final moments. In real-world scenarios, he’s never this laid back, but with Cassian, he enjoys toying with him. He knows he’s more skilled and experienced, so he’s resigning himself until the fatal blow is necessary.”
“It’s a unique way of fighting, I suppose,” I say, tilting my head side to side as I process all the information and try to decipher more. “Why does Silas do that?”
“Do what?”
“He shifts a bit as Cassian strikes. It’s like he bobs and weaves, as if the strikes are hitting him, but they don’t. They’re subtle movements, easily missed if you aren’t paying attention.”
“He’s counting Cass’s punches with his body. He’s growing bored, ready to counteract Cassian’s moves and wrap this up. He knows exactly what to expect now, making this an easy win.”
“Why doesn’t he just fight? He already knows how predictable Cass is, he’ll win it, no questions asked. There’s no effort on his end.”
“That’s just the way Silas is, Lia. Boredom sets in pretty fast with him, if you couldn’t tell already.”
“You told me to watch, observe them and their moves… Silas isn’t doing shit.”
Almost as if he heard me, he delivers the final blow to Cassian’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to call it quits. With a devilish smile on his face, Silas helps his brother up before wandering off to the gun range.
I watch as Silas takes aim. The bullet leaves the chamber, but no noise erupts through the room like I was bracing myself for.
“I thought guns made a loud noise?” My statement comes off as a question.
“Soundproofed room,” Cass says, walking towards us as if the dried blood that decorates his skin is there for show, and he wasn’t injured. “When we train, we don’t want gunshots to interrupt us.”
That’s smart. Nothing to disturb them.
“You did good,” Remi says. “You surpassed my expectations. What else have you got?”
“What else have you got to give me?” I counter.
He laughs, directing us to the shooting range. The moment we step foot inside, Silas rings up his target, yanking it off the clip it clings on and removing himself from the room.
“What’s up his ass?” I ask, scoffing as the door shuts behind him.
“He doesn’t like people,” Cass says with a shrug as he grabs a pair of protective headphones. “You might need these.” He places them on my head, offering me a flash of his sweet smile. Removing them, he places them around my neck. “I’ve got this, Remi. Let me show her what I’ve got.”
“Sure, I’ll be out there if you need me.”
With Remi gone, Cass follows for a second before revealing himself again, two magazines and a gun in hand.
“We can share. A magazine each,” he says, inserting the first one with a loud click. “Watch what I do, and mimic my moves, okay?” He gets ready, holding himself in a stern stance.
“Don’t you need some?” I ask, my hands finding their way to the headphones.
He shakes his head with a laugh escaping him. “In the outside world, you don’t have time to put that shit on, Lia. You eventually get used to it, but right now, you’ll need them.” He flashes me another charming smile, putting the headset back on my ears.
He feels like such a comfort here. In the last few minutes he’s made me feel more accepted than anyone else has in days—besides Kat and Elaina, of course. Already, he’s doing everything he can to make me feel accepted in some weird way.
His mouth begins to move and I slide the earpieces off. “Mimic my stance and my outstretched arms. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I nod, putting the earpieces back and doing as he asks. With my right foot less than a step in front of my left, I outstretch my arms and wait for him to shoot. As he does, I hear the bullet leaving its rightful place in the chamber, and a startle rocks through me.
I watch as his mouth moves, his words muffled, but he hands me the gun, insinuating it’s my turn.
Placing my hand out, he places the gun in it. His mouth moves again and I huff, removing the headset once more.
He laughs. “Take the old magazine out and replace it with this one.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, staring at the gun. “This is all so new to me. I don’t—”
He picks the gun back up and clicks a small button on the side, making the magazine drop into his hand before he clicks it back in place. “Now you try,” he says, placing it back in my hand.
“You only shot it once; there’s more ammo in there.”
“You need to learn your way around a gun, though. Just do it.”
Following his lousy instructions, my finger grazes the edge of the gun near the trigger until I feel a small rise, and I click it, the clip releasing and I watch as it falls to my feet as if in slow motion.
He sweeps it up, placing it on the stall’s counter in front of us. “Might need to work on your reflexes, too,” he jokes.
Grabbing the second magazine, I pop it in place with a click.
“Okay, now assume your previous stance and fire away.”
I nod, putting my headset into its rightful place on my head, doing as he asks.
Bracing myself, my finger grazes the trigger and it settles in front of it, begging to press into the metal.
Giving in to the temptation, I press it once…
Twice.
Three times.
Each shot fired makes my eyes squeeze shut, my bullets are probably embedded in the wall behind the target.
Pressing the button below the countertop, the target slides towards us, Cass squints his eyes as he looks at it.
He hums, ripping it off the clip and folding it up into his pocket. “I think that’s enough for one day.”
“Don’t I get to see?” I ask, motioning to his pocket.
“Not this one,” he says. “This is mine. House policy.” He says nothing more on the matter, leading us out of the room into the empty arena.
I follow him out into the long, stretched-out corridor, back into the main hall and through the doors of Remi’s office.
“We’re done,” he says with a nod. “Want me to take her back?”
“No need,” Dario says, from the couch in the corner. “Dinner’s in an hour. Be late and Mama might make good on her threats to take you out of the world. She’s on a rampage today. You do NOT want to get on her bad side.”
“Noted,” Cass replies, leaving the office with a pat on Dario’s shoulder.
“I’ll rearrange my training session then,” Remi says, sarcasm lacing his tone.
“Good idea,” Dario replies with a laugh. “Let’s get going, Lia.”
“Family dinner again?” I ask, walking towards him.
“My mother has an announcement, and as always, she must make a show of it.”