Did it matter?
Yes. No. Maybe.
I didn’t know anymore.
But I was going to find out.
Chapter 19
Xavier
Hellhound’s fist came at my face.
I dodged left. Muscle memory perfect. No thought required. Movement.
My body knew how to kill.
Shame it couldn’t remember why.
I pivoted, drove my shoulder into Hellhound’s midsection. He grunted. Absorbed the impact. Countered with an elbow that would’ve shattered my jaw if I hadn’t rolled clear.
The gymnasium floor was unforgiving beneath our feet. Bare walls. Equipment shoved against the perimeter to clear fighting space. Winter sunlight struggled through frost-covered windows, throwing everything into gray half-light.
Havoc watched from his perch on a pommel horse. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
“Again.”
I didn’t need the invitation.
I came at him harder. Faster. Drove him back with combinations my conscious mind didn’t recognize but my body executed flawlessly. Jab-cross-hook. Knee to the ribs. Sweep his legs.
Fighting to prove I wasn’t dead yet.
Fighting to prove I was still a weapon worth keeping sharp.
He caught my wrist mid-strike. Twisted. I rotated with the momentum, broke his grip, slammed my elbow toward his temple.
Blocked. Barely.
“Good. Your muscle memory is intact.” No strain in his voice despite the pace.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words were still locked behind damaged vocal cords and whatever the hell Dresner had done to my brain.
But my fists spoke clearly enough.
We circled. He moved fluid, controlled, impossibly calm. I moved in sharp bursts and barely leashed aggression.
Different styles. Same lethality.
He feinted left. I didn’t fall for it. Anticipated the real strike coming from the right. Blocked. Countered.
My knuckles connected with his ribs. Solid hit.
He didn’t flinch. Smiled. “Better. It’s coming back.”
The approval shouldn’t have mattered.
It did anyway.
