1. Amala
One
Amala
Resentment often tasted bittersweet.
Your mind warned you of the dangers that came with it, a battle between logic and emotion.
Hatred could potentially consume you, control you, or worse, you’d end up becoming the person you hated.
“Why don’t you just tap out already?” Ares asked, tightening his arm around my neck. He held me in a merciless chokehold.
His condescending tone added fuel to the raging inferno that burned inside of my very being.
I held onto his forearm, digging my nails into the skin until they pierced right through.
He grunted and I watched the blood slowly trickle along his flesh, the crimson liquid seemed like a fitting representation of my abhorrent feelings towards him.
The back of my body was pressed firmly against the front of his. His large frame felt rock solid. “No.” I practically wheezed.
I gritted my teeth, feeling the air slowly escaping my lungs. Asher Braun, our Special Agent in Charge forced us to partner during our sparring sessions. He said he’d keep pairing us until we learnt to cooperate.
If I didn’t escape this manoeuvre, I’d definitely pass out due to the lack of air.
I slipped my left hand underneath his forearm and tightened my hold on the top of it with my right hand.
With all of the strength I could muster, I slowly pried his arm away from my neck and when there was enough space for me to move, I tossed my head back with brutal force.
Based on the sound of his groan and the way his hold faltered I figured I struck him directly against the mouth or nose.
His stance weakened so I flipped him onto his back. The man weighed more than me, so I had to use all of my energy and strength.
He huffed in pain when his body collided with the ground and that’s when I placed my foot on his neck. “You should tap out.” I breathed heavily, my chest rising and falling.
He attempted to remove my foot but I applied more pressure. His glare pierced my soul but I held his gaze.
Combat practice was now officially my favorite activity. He clenched his jaw, nearly crushing my foot with his unrelenting hold on it but I refused to show him any mercy.
He used his left hand, tapping the grey mat underneath him thrice. “Fine. I fucking tap.” He groaned and that’s when I slowly removed my foot from his throat.
He quickly sat up, rubbing the affected area.
If looks could kill I’d be six feet under due to his venomous gaze but he’d be buried right beside me as I glared at him.
I folded my arms across my chest, rolling my eyes. With swift movements he rose to his feet, his biceps flexing as he moved.
This was the first time I caught a glimpse of the tattoo covering the entirety of his right arm because whilst on duty he always wore long-sleeved shirts or jackets.
“You’re always under the impression that you’ve got the advantage but in the end I’ll always reign victorious, Valiente.”
He stepped forward, towering over me.
Despite his height and body mass I wasn’t easily intimidated, especially not by him. I stood my ground, refusing to falter.
He repulsed me but I didn’t want to give him the impression that his presence affected me in the slightest because it sure as hell did not.
“You’re only victorious because I surrendered.” he scoffed, slamming his bicep against my shoulder as he passed by.
I still stood in the same spot, unmoving. “Oh please.” I sneered. “Sore fucking loser,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t look back to see his reaction or wait to hear his response.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get far because there was a tight grip on my ponytail and my head was tugged back forcefully.
On instinct, I grabbed his hand but that’s when he pulled me closer by my hair and I hissed.
He was quick, too fucking quick, and before I could process the drastic change in dynamics he held both arms tightly behind my back with one hand and used his free hand to grip my ponytail again.
“Repeat that,” he said calmly, the undertone almost menacing. When I didn’t respond he tugged my hair even harder and a sharp pain seared through my scalp.
“If you don’t release me, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he mocked. “Maybe this will teach you to stop running your mouth.” He leaned in, talking directly into my ear. I shuddered at the proximity. “You were just boasting, so show me what you’ve got, Rivera. Escape this simple manoeuvre.”
I hated him. I loathed him. I wouldn’t allow him or any other man for that matter, to belittle me.
Women in the FBI were always seen as less than, never respected, never treated equally.
He tugged my hair again and I groaned softly.
His hold was once again unrelenting. I stepped on his foot, then used my heel to kick him against the shin. He muttered a throaty fuck in my ear and my body tingled.
Something about seeing a man—no, something about seeing Ares in pain brought me immense pleasure. “That’s your plan?” he tightened his grip. “You’re playing dirty?”
“There are no rules when you need to defend yourself from potential harm,” I repeated the action, kicking him harder than before.
“Fucking brat.”
With the last blow, he shifted his leg and that’s when I made my move. I pulled hard, managing to free one arm and elbowed him in the abdomen.
This easily allowed me to pull my other arm free and I immediately gave a high kick, aiming for his head.
He blocked the action and grabbed my ankle but I used his hold as leverage, clutching onto the back of his neck.
There it was.
That look in his eyes.
It was quick but I saw it and for a brief moment his grip loosened. I quickly lowered my leg and used the other to knee him in the left rib.
“Shit.”
He stumbled backward, but effortlessly regained his balance. “You really are dirty as fuck when it comes to combat, aren’t you?”
He asked rhetorically, holding the spot I landed my blow.
I moved back, creating space between us. “Is it dirty or am I just better than you?”
“Better than me?” He laughed humorlessly. “High hopes. Overambitious. Overly confident.” He slowly walked toward me. “That’s what you are.”
I stood my ground. “Arrogant. Brazen. Insolent.” I retorted. “That’s what you are.” He stopped in front of me, towering over me again.
I craned my neck, glaring at him. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face and I nearly followed through with my inner thoughts.
“Ask me if I give a fuck about what you think of me?”
“I would but I don’t care about anything you have to say.” I spat, turning around swiftly.
Within seconds he grabbed my ponytail again, tugging me back. However, this time his grip was gentle but firm.
“One day that smart mouth of yours will land you in some serious trouble, bruja.” I spun around, forcefully pulling his hand away from my hair.
“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” He pushed me away, making me stumble backward. “Did I strike a nerve?”
His blank expression faltered for a split second, anger brewing in his eyes.
He glanced at me for a few seconds, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. “No.”
He laughed humorlessly. “When are you going to realise that your words mean nothing to me, Rivera?” He didn’t hesitate to exit the training area, slamming the door shut behind him.
I released a heavy sigh, envisioning myself slamming that door against his skull repeatedly.