Chapter 7. Breaking Point

The gym looked different before dawn. The city hadn’t fully woken yet; the air still carried the ghost of rain, and the streets outside were slick, silvered under the streetlights.

Cassian was already there.

He was standing near the heavy bags, back to her, hands bounded, head bowed slightly like he’d been listening for her footsteps. He didn’t turn.

“You’re late,” he said.

“It’s four forty-five.”

“I said five.”

“Exactly.”

He looked over his shoulder. The hint of a smirk almost, but not quite. “Then you had time to warm up.”

“I thought that’s what I came here for.”

“Wrong.”

He tossed her a jump rope. It slapped against her palms, the sting immediate.

“Start.”

The rope cut through the air, each turn whispering past her ears. The tempo came easy at first, muscle memory guiding her. But Cassian’s presence changed everything—the sound of his steady breath, the way he watched without watching, all stillness and judgm