I breathe in with each defensive move I make, and out with each attack I deliver. The three of us are a blur of action, and we all move so well together, as we evade and assault one another, that if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was choreographed. I lean back to avoid a kick Kallan sends my way, and I realize too late that I’ve left my stomach exposed to Bastien. He doesn’t capitalize on the opening, and I know he saw it. His eyes flit from my stomach to my legs where he then tries to sweep my feet out from underneath me while I’m off balance.
This fucker isn’t going for the kill shot.
I pull on my Sentinel magic and send a pulse out that throws Kallan and Bastien away from me. I stomp over to Bastien on the ground, who’s slowly getting up and shaking the rattling my magic just gave him out of his limbs.
“Are you fucking pulling punches?” I demand.
“What the hell, Bruiser?”
“Don’t what the hell me; are you pulling your hits?”
Bastien doesn’t answer, but I didn’t really need him to.
“My stomach was open. You should have shoved a blade into my side and given yourself the upper hand, but you didn’t. Why?”
I’m in his face and shouting, and the other guys have stopped their training to watch.
“I’m not going to fucking stab you, Bruiser. Shoving a dagger into your stomach isn’t going to make us better fighters. I don’t have to actually beat the shit out of you to prove that I can.”
“You need to know what it feels like to go for the kill so that you can rebound accordingly. You need to be prepared for how your opponent will respond to being hurt.”
“Bruiser, that’s not how training works. We execute supes as paladin, but they don’t have us actually kill them in training as conscripts to guarantee that we know how.”
“They’re producing subpar paladin then,” I argue.
“Bruiser, I appreciate your bloodlust—it’s hot as fuck—but you’re wrong on this. Repetition of movement and muscle memory, that’s more important than actually shoving a knife, sword, mace, arrow, or any of the other magical weapons we can conjure up, into someone so that we know what it feels like.”
I know Bastien is still talking to me, but this situation triggers the memory of the first time Talon ever hit me in training. One minute I’m with Bastien in Belarus, and the next I’m with Talon in the ring.
I wipe at blood from my split lip and stare at Talon in shock.
“You fucking hit me?”
“And?” Talon asks, his breath even in spite of the hours we’ve been sparring.
“We’re training,” I tell him, confused.
“Yeah, and you need to know how to shake off a hit.”
Beth’s rage-filled face pops up in my mind, and I try to shove it away. “I know how to take a hit,” I tell him, my voice low, my eyes filled with fire.
“No, you know how to mentally and physically protect yourself while taking a beating. What I’m teaching you is how to work through the pain of a hit so hard it scrambles your senses. I’m teaching you how to navigate that so you can strike back through it. If you can learn to do that, then there will be no more beatings that you have to protect yourself from anymore, because you’ll be the lethal one doling them out.”
I shake away the echoes of Talon’s voice in my mind and the pain that bubbles to the surface of my soul with it and snap back into the here and now.
“Killer, we told you before that none of us will physically hurt you in a fight. It’s not about you; we wouldn’t do that to each other either. Because just like Bastien said, it’s not necessary,” Knox argues.
“It will make you better fighters. All of us need to be the best we possibly can be. What don’t you get about that?” I throw my arms out in frustration. “We have just a couple more hours of daylight, and you are wasting time. Let’s go!” I clap my hands together like some kind of sports coach, but none of them break away ready for action.
“Squeaks, we know you pushed hard before. You were alone, and you did what you had to do, but you’re not alone anymore; you have all of us now.”
“Yeah, that’s all fine and dandy until they wait for us not to be together to attack. Sabin and I were just grabbing supplies when those shifters came after us. I tried to do what I could, but there was just one ofme. You all need to be able to do what I can do, and that includes fighting through pain and following through on all your hits in training. We can get healed; it’s not like we’re inflicting legitimate mortal wounds or something,” I argue, and I wince at the panic I can hear in my voice.
Sabin separates from the group and walks toward the house we’re staying in. I don’t catch a glimpse of his face, so I can’t tell if he’s pissed, irritated, or just has to pee.
“Vinna, you know what sticklers we are about training,” Kallan tells me, motioning to Enoch and Nash. “And how important thethreeof us think it is that you get as caught up as you can when it comes to your abilities.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryker demands. “You three aren’t the only ones who care about her training.”
