Every muscle in my body burns, but I keep going, driving my fist into the padded target Isabella holds. My knuckles ache with every impact, but I don’t stop. Pain is part of the process. Weakness isn’t an option anymore.
“Again!” Isabella barks, her sharp voice cutting through the pounding in my ears.
I grit my teeth and throw another punch, then follow it with a swift knee to the target. The woman doesn’t believe in breaks. Or mercy.
“Better.” She steps back, lowering the pad. Her ice-blue eyes bore into mine. “But not good enough. You want to survive this? You need to hit harder.”
I wipe the sweat from my brow, trying to catch my breath. It’s been three weeks since Damien attacked me, and I’m still haunted by the feel of that knife so close to my throat.
That night, something shifted in me. I realized no one is coming to save me-not Ethan, not Xavier, not my uncle. If I want to stay alive, I have to learn how to fight back.
And that’s exactly why I’ve been training with Isabella. She’s a former assassin, ruthless and precise-everything I need to become if I’m going to survive in this world.
“Your form’s sloppy,” Isabella mutters, circling me like a predator. “You’re relying too much on brute force. A real opponent will see that coming a mile away.”
I nod, adjusting my stance as she instructed, but frustration simmers beneath my skin.
“This isn’t just about strength,” she continues. “It’s about control. Discipline. Knowing when to strike-and when to wait.”
I lunge forward, throwing a punch, but she sidesteps it easily and sweeps my leg out from under me. I hit the mat hard, air rushing from my lungs.
“See what I mean?” She crouches beside me, her voice calm but unforgiving. “Recklessness will get you killed.”
I lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling. Everything hurts. But what hurts more is the reminder that I still have a long way to go.
“I’m not trying to be a killer,” I mutter, pulling myself up.
Isabella raises an eyebrow. “You’d better start thinking like one. Because I guarantee Xavier and Ethan won’t hesitate to put you down if it serves their interests.”
The mention of their names sends a wave of anger crashing through me. I’m done being their pawn.
“Again,” I say, setting my feet.
We train until my limbs feel like lead, every muscle protesting with each movement. Punch, block, dodge, kick. Over and over. Until the motions become instinct. Until the rage inside me is tempered into something sharper. Something deadly.
By the time we finish, I’m dripping with sweat, but there’s a spark of satisfaction in my chest. I’m getting stronger.
Survival Is the Goal
Isabella tosses me a bottle of water, and I catch it with shaky hands.
“You’re improving,” she says. “But remember, strength isn’t enough. You have to be willing to do what they won’t.”
I unscrew the cap, taking a long sip. Her words hang heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the path I’ve chosen. There’s no going back now. Not if I want to survive.
“You ready for what comes next?” Isabella asks, tilting her head.
I nod, wiping sweat from my brow. “I don’t have a choice.”
She studies me for a moment, then gives a small nod. “Good. Keep that mindset. In this world, hesitation is the same as pulling the trigger on yourself.”
The weight of her words settles over me. This isn’t just about self-defense anymore. This is about survival-and winning.
Later that night, after I’ve showered and bandaged my bruises, I collapse onto my bed. My muscles ache, but the exhaustion is almost comforting. At least it drowns out the chaos in my mind.
I reach for my phone, intending to check my messages, but a new video notification pops up-an encrypted message.
My heart skips a beat. I sit up, frowning as I open the file.
The video loads slowly, but when the image finally appears, my blood runs cold.
Ethan and Xavier, sitting across from each other at a dimly lit table. Ethan’s expression is hard, unreadable. Xavier leans back casually, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
They’re talking-no, they’re negotiating.
I lean closer, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. What the hell is going on?
The audio is fuzzy, but I catch snippets of their conversation:
Xavier: “We both know she’s dangerous if left unchecked. You want control. I want closure. We can help each other.”
Ethan: “But it has to look real. No mistakes.”
My stomach churns. This can’t be happening.
They’ve been at each other’s throats for months. Why the sudden alliance?
The conversation shifts, but the implication is clear: They’re planning something-and I’m right in the middle of it.
My hands shake as I pause the video. The two men I thought I could at least manipulate, the two people I was trying to escape, are working together.
A knot tightens in my throat. What game are they playing?
I thought I understood the rules, but now it feels like the ground is shifting beneath my feet.
The video ends with Xavier leaning closer to Ethan, a predatory gleam in his eye.
Xavier: “We’ll be patient. She’ll come to us-eventually.”
The screen goes black.
For a long moment, I just sit there, stunned and furious. They think they can play me. They think they can control me.
Not anymore.
But as I reach for my phone to call Isabella, a flicker of doubt creeps in.
If Ethan and Xavier are working together, what else are they hiding from me?
And more importantly, who else is involved?
The phone buzzes in my hand, startling me. Another message-this one just two words:
“Tick tock.”
I stare at the screen, my pulse racing. The clock is ticking, and I’m running out of time.
And now, more than ever, I can’t afford to trust anyone.