“I said I’m fine,” I snap. It comes out harsher than I mean it to, but I don’t take it back. The last thing I want is their pity. I refuse to be weak.
Never again.
Hudson studies me with those perceptive eyes. “Alright,” he relents. “But take it at your own pace.”
I nod, wiping sweat and tears from my eyes, and step back onto the mat. I push the memory away, shoveling it back with all the others.
“Ready when you are,” Ethan says, still looking unsure.
“Let’s go,” I say, settling into a fighting stance.
He lunges again, and I feel panic rearing up, but this time I’m ready. I twist away from him, coming around with a roundhouse kick. He dodges, but barely. Being caught off guard made him sloppy, giving me an opening.
“That’s more like it,” he says, his grin returning as he recovers his footing.
We circle each other again, faster now, neither holding back.
This is good. I block his next strike and use the momentum to bring a stiff elbow into his side. Satisfaction pulses through me at the impact.
“Yes!” Axel whoops. “Get him, Luna!”
I’m the one pinning Ethan this time, straddling his chest, my fists ready to strike.
He taps out, laughing breathlessly. “Okay, okay! You got me!”
It’s exhilarating.
After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, Hudson calls time. I’m gasping for air, sweat stinging my eyes.
“Good effort,” Hudson nods. “You’ve got potential, Luna.”
I collapse onto a nearby bench, gulping water. Every muscle screams, but it’s a good kind of pain.
The kind that means growth.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Oli asks, plopping down beside me.
I shrug, wiping sweat from my brow. “ShifterTube, mostly. And lots of practice on my own.”
“ShifterTube?” Axel snorts. “What, did you take an online course in ‘Badassery 101’?”
“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’. “The institute’s extracurriculars were more ‘Needlepoint’ and ‘How to Smile Prettily.’ I had to get creative.”
“Well,” Ethan says, “ShifterTube or not, you’ve got talent. With some proper training, you could be formidable.”
A warm feeling blooms in my chest at his words. It’s been a long time since anyone believed in me like that.
“Speaking of proper training,” Hudson interjects, “let’s work on your form.”
For the next hour, they take turns showing me different moves. They’re surprisingly patient teachers, guiding my movements with gentle but firm hands.
I’m hyper-aware of their touch and scents—a mix of sweat, earth, and something wild fills my nose. My skin tingles where they make contact, and I have to focus on the lessons, not how my body reacts to their proximity.
“Keep your guard up,” Ethan instructs, demonstrating a series of quick jabs. “You’re leaving yourself open.”
I mimic his movements. Axel watches critically, then steps behind me. His hands settle on my hips, adjusting my stance. My breath catches in my throat.
“Like this,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Twist from your core. It’ll give your punches more oomph.”
