Athena lunged, her training knife a blur. Giana met it with her own blade, the dull edges scraping as she deflected the thrust wide. She started to counter, but Athena had already recovered, her knife snapping back into line.
"Faster on the counter!" she barked. "Don't admire your parry. Exploit the opening I'm giving you."
Giana gritted her teeth, pushing herself. The drills became a demanding dance with Athena as a relentless, skilled partner. The ache in Giana's body faded into the background, replaced by fierce concentration and a growing sense of capability.
This was power, tangible and immediate. Not the abstract power of hacking a firewall, but the visceral power of being able to meet force with force.
The rhythmic thud of footsteps broke their rhythm. Frederica appeared at the gym entrance, dressed in sleek black running gear, her dark hair tied in a high ponytail.
"Morning mercenaries," she called out as she stepped onto a treadmill and started punching buttons. She shot a glance at Giana, pantomiming stabbing motions with her hands while she jogged.
"Looking fierce, Sorrentino. Finally learning how to use more than just your keyboard and smile to make men bleed?"
Giana lowered her training knife, catching her breath. She offered Frederica a small, genuine smile. "Something like that. Rodrigo's idea."
Frederica snorted, increasing the treadmill's speed. "Of course it was. An obsessive control freak who can't control his anger gives lessons in violence? Poetic. Knives are fun and stabby, but if you really want to make an impression, you need to learn to shoot properly. None of that 'point and pray' bullshit. I could teach you and make you deadly before breakfast."
Before Giana could respond, a cool, familiar voice cut through the whir of the treadmill and the sound of their breathing. "I believeIwas promised the privilege of being your instructor."
16
Rodrigo stood in the arched entrance to the gym, dressed in dark, loose training pants and a fitted black T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and chest.
He scanned the gym, lingering on Giana, flushed and slightly breathless, the training knife still in her hand, then flicking to Athena, and finally to Frederica on the treadmill. His expression was unreadable, but a faint tension tightened the line of his jaw.
Athena smirked back at him. "Just keeping the future Mrs. Colleoni warmed up for you, champ. I didn't want her to pull something important." She shot Giana a wink that promised future teasing.
Frederica didn't slow her pace on the treadmill. "Relax, Colleoni. We are just offering the lady options. Variety is the spice of lethal life, you know."
Rodrigo ignored them both. His eyes remained fixed on Giana as he walked toward her. "You started without me."
Giana met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She held up the training knife. "Just brushing off the rust with Athena's help."
A muscle ticked in Rodrigo's jaw. He stopped a few feet away and looked at the knife in her hand. "Put that down."
Giana hesitated for a fraction of a second then carefully placed the training knife on a nearby bench. She straightened, squaring her shoulders, meeting his dark, intense stare.
Rodrigo reached behind him to the small of his back and drew out a knife from a hidden sheath. It was about eight inches long, sleek, double-edged, and with a textured black handle.
"You want to learn? You learn with the real thing under my instruction."
A thrill, equal parts fear and excitement, shot through Giana. This was different from the drills with Athena. This was raw, dangerous, and undeniably Rodrigo's style.
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Okay."
Rodrigo didn't move. "Assume your stance."
Giana dropped into the guard position Athena had shown her: knees bent, weight balanced, left hand raised defensively near her face, right hand held lower, ready.
Rodrigo mirrored her, his stance wider, lower, radiating coiled power. He held the real knife low, the blade angled slightly inward. "You know the basics. Show me your thrust."
Giana lunged forward, leading with her right hand in a punching motion, aiming for his center mass. It was the movement Athena had drilled into her just minutes ago.
Rodrigo moved like lightning. Not away, but into her attack. His left arm snapped up, his forearm smashing against her guard hand, brutally deflecting it wide, breaking her structure.
At the same moment, his knife hand shot forward, not to stab, but to tap the hard pommel into her solar plexus. It wasn't hard, but it made Giana yelp in surprise.
"Too slow," Rodrigo's voice was cold, detached. "Too predictable. You telegraphed it from a mile away, and you left yourself wide open."
