“It means,” he said, crossing the room and standing in front of her, “you’re right. Without your magic, you’re a sittingduck. We’re starting training sessions. You need to learn how to defend yourself, with or without magic.”
Cora blinked, clearly surprised. “Training? Like…fighting?”
“Fighting. Strategy. Awareness,” he clarified. “If something happens and I’m not there, you need to be able to handle it.”
“Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel safe.”
“This isn’t a joke, Cora. You can’t rely on me for everything.”
She flinched but visibly shook off whatever thought seemed to go through her head. “Fine. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”
“I don’t care if you enjoy it. I care if you survive.”
Cora held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow,” he said without hesitation. “First thing.”
Chapter 7 - Cora
Cora’s fist hit the punching pad with a satisfying thud, though the effort behind it made her shoulder ache. She ignored the pain, focusing instead on the rhythm Grayson had drilled into her all morning. Jab, cross, jab, step back. The movement was simple enough, but the way he barked corrections made it feel like she was training for a prizefight instead of basic survival.
“Your footwork’s sloppy,” he noted, moving the pad slightly to the left. “Again.”
“It’s not sloppy,” she shot back, adjusting her stance. “You’re just picky.”
“Sloppy gets you killed. Again.”
Her jaw ticked as she swung at the pad harder than necessary. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be teaching me self-defense, you could try a little positive reinforcement.”
“You want a pat on the back whenever you punch?” Grayson asked. “I thought you said you wanted to learn.”
“I do,” she muttered as her hands dropped to her sides. “But you could at least pretend like I’m not a total failure.”
“You’re not a failure. You’re untrained. There’s a difference.”
“Wow,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “I feel so much better now.”
Grayson lowered the pad and stepped so close that Cora had to tilt her head back to look at him. “This isn’t about making you feel better, Cora. It’s about keeping you alive. So unless you want to end up back in Voss’ hands, I suggest you focus.”
The mention of Voss sent a shiver down her spine, but it only stoked the fire in her chest. She glared at him, asking, “You think I’m not focusing? You think I don’t want to be able to protect myself? Maybe if you weren’t breathing down my neck every second, I’d actually be able to concentrate.”
“Maybe if you stopped arguing with me, we’d make progress,” he countered.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snapped. “Am I not being obedient enough for you?”
Grayson heaved in a breath, and for a moment, she thought he might yell. But instead, he took a long step back. “Take five,” he said, motioning toward the edge of the clearing the pack used as training grounds.
Cora’s fists clenched at her sides, and for a split second, she considered storming off entirely. But the weight of his words—of the bond tugging at her chest—kept her rooted in place. With a frustrated huff, she turned and stomped toward the nearest tree, leaning against it as she caught her breath.
The training sessions had been his idea, of course. After the encounter with the shifter tailing them, he’d insisted she learn how to fight. At first, she’d agreed because it seemed practical. Logical, even. But every session turned into a battle of wills, and it was starting to feel like the only thing she was learning was how to tolerate his overbearing attitude.
“Let’s try again,” Grayson said after a few minutes.
She pushed off the tree and made her way back to him. He held up the pad again, and she resumed the drill, throwing punches with renewed force.
“Harder,” he instructed.
“I’m trying,” she snapped, landing another jab.
