And just like that, he walks off the mat.
I sigh and follow him over to the heavy punching bags. I watch silently as he tapes up his hands, trying to commit it to memory so I can tape up my own.
He takes his stance. His bag rattles with brutal precision. Every strike is clean, efficient. Controlled fury.
I silently tape up my own hands, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I try to copy his strikes with the bag next to his.
No taunts. No barking commands. Just… working.
I focus on the bag and keep in mind everything I’ve been taught this far. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I pause to wipe my forehead. That’s when I feel his gaze.
“You’re not bad at this.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Careful, Ward. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
He huffs a short laugh and drops his gloves, pulling the wraps off his hands.
“You ever fight before all this?”
“Notlike this.” I shrug. “Mostly stayed small and fast. Easier not to be noticed that way.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
I’m taken aback by the personal confession. I wait for the usual silence to return, but instead, he leans back against the wall.
“I didn’t grow up like the others.” He glances over. “I had a mattress on the floor. Moved foster homes nine times. One of them had bedbugs. Another had a guy who locked us in the closet when we ‘talked back.’” His jaw tightens as the memories pass in front of his eyes. “You learn real quick either to disappear or fight.”
My hands freeze on the tape I’d been unwrapping.
“I’m not saying this for pity,” he adds. “Just figured… you’d understand. More than anyone else here.”
I don’t say anything at first. Just meet his eyes, something flickering between us. Then I nod. “I do.”
We stand there for a second. Not training partners. Not enemies. Not Guild initiates. Just two people who have been through hell and learned how to fight their way through it.
He pushes off the wall, grabbing his towel, and tosses me a protein bar on his way out.
“Eat. You’re gonna need it.”
I spendthe next couple of days mostly in silence, focusing on my task. I have five days left. I’ve gathered as much intel as I can based on the Guild files we are given access to, but I know I’ll need to do some recon. I’ll have to go tonight and maybe even tomorrow.
The academy is unnervingly quiet at night. I move through the stone halls like a ghost, each step muffled by the boots I’ve taken from the Guild armory. Black hoodie, black gloves, hair tied back, nothing to catch the light. My bag is packed with recon gear.
I turn the corner near the east wing stairwell, only to slam straight into a solid wall of muscle.
“Shit.” I stumble back, heart spiking.
Tex.
His hoodie is half-zipped, his hands in his pockets, and he looks at me like he’s only half-surprised.
“You don’t look like you’re sneaking out at all.” There’s a bit of laughter in his voice. Like he’s caught a child playing dress up.
I square my shoulders. “Should’ve known you’d lurk around in the dark.”
He gives a half-smirk. “Better than getting caught.”
There’s a beat of silence between us.
