Chapter 8. The Collapse

The world had shrunk to a loop of movement and noise.

Punch. Breath. Pivot. Breath.

Lia’s knuckles were raw under the tape; her sweat had long since stopped feeling like water. The floor gleamed slick where the light hit it. Cassian’s voice drifted in and out like static over a radio—low, steady, always there.

“Reset. Again.”

Her muscles didn’t ache anymore—they screamed. Every command he gave hit her nerves like an electrical pulse.

“Lower.”

“Faster.”

“Guard up.”

Her lungs were in fire.

When she looked at him between rounds, he didn’t look back. Not once. He stood by the ring ropes, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the bag or the timer or anything that wasn’t her face.

She hated him for it.

She needed him for it.

By now, the gym smelled like iron and ammonia.

She couldn’t remember when she’d started training that morning. The clock on the wall had stopped two hours ago.

Cassian’s voice cut through again.