— • —
Mira
The training room was empty except for Wyatt and me.
Every exchange I kept my core tight and my angles deliberate, positioning my body so his strikes never had a clear line to my center. The kind of adjustment you make when you’re protecting more than yourself and can’t let anyone see it.
“Better,” he said. “You’re not dropping your guard on the left anymore.”
“I had a good teacher.”
“A stubborn student who finally listened.” He held the pad higher. “Again. Harder.”
I drove my elbow into the pad with enough force to push him back a full step. His eyebrows rose. The sickly version of me thathad stumbled into training weeks ago couldn’t have managed that. The bond being restored had changed more than my mood.
The pregnancy fed off it, and the babies fed off the pregnancy, and whatever lycan blood ran through those three tiny bodies had decided to share the wealth. I was stronger. Faster. More grounded.
My strikes landed with an authority I hadn’t possessed before, and every session the improvement accelerated.
Actually, at this rate, these kids were going to come out punching at birth.
“You’re in your best state,” Wyatt said. An observation. “Whatever you’re doing outside these sessions, keep doing it.”
If he only knew.
“Let’s just say I’ve been getting a... different kind of workout.” I adjusted my stance. “Very cardio intensive.”
Wyatt blinked. “Cardio?”
“Mm. Multiple rounds. Very demanding partners.”
“Partners? You joined a class or...”
“Something. Sure. Let’s go with that.”
He looked confused. I bit my lower lip to keep the grin from surfacing because if I laughed I’d have to explain, and there was no version of that explanation ending well for anyone.
I faked a jab at his left and swept his lead leg. Wyatt hit the mat with a thud that echoed off the concrete walls and the shock on his face was worth every bruise I’d earned getting to this point.
“Did you just...” He stared up at me from the floor.
“Topple the instructor?” I offered him my hand. “Looks that way.”
He took it and pulled himself up, shaking his head with a half-laugh that carried respect. “You’ve been holding back on me.”
“Maybe I was waiting for the right moment.”
We reset for another round.
I watched him from across the mat and let the thought I’d been sitting on for days rise to the surface. Wyatt had tolerated my questions. My rebellion. He never reported it. Just watched with that quiet intensity that told me his loyalty to the Order had fractures he wasn’t ready to name.
It was a gamble. I could be wrong about it or it could get us both killed.
But the Purifier data was burning through my brain and the pipeline Percy had uncovered meant that every day I waited was another day the Order could manufacture another rogue, create another orphan, recruit another Wyatt.
“Wyatt.”
He paused mid-stance.
