OffSpring | ✎

Chapter LXXI

Chapter Seventy-One | Tension
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K A I T L Y N

The slaps of my fist slamming against the material of the punching bag echoes throughout the room, my breathing drifting with its alliance. Smack! Smack! I keep my arms close to my chest, as instructed by Abel, tensing the muscles in my arm before it makes contact with the punching bag.

It has been close to a week since I started training with Abel, luckily with no appearance from Delano. The castle seemed to be in an uproar of activity this particular day, bodies rushing around the corridors as if preparing for something that has not yet arrived. I push dark thoughts to the back of my mind, returning my attention to the punching bag. I hiss out a breath through clenched teeth that hungrily search for a lung to relieve the tightening pressure in my chest as I bounce on the balls of my feet.

My fist drives forward, connecting with the weighed bag, the other quickly following afterward in a quick motion of fluid repeated advancements. I gaze harshly at the brown leather, allowing an image to slick from the back of my consciousness to the forefront and replace the assaulted bag as motivation.

"Silly girl," her sickened voice echoes within the walls of my mind.

Her disembodied voice brings forth a rush of emotions, my fist connecting with the material at an unreeling fast rate. Each connection made with the bag resonates in the room.

Smack! Smack!

The image of the bag soon transforms from Victoria's face to the creatures that rained havoc upon the castle. My blood rushes through my veins like a war of soldiers charging headfirst into battle, my movements soon creating a rhythm of ruthless advancements until finally, the sound of cracking drywall pulls me from the claws of memories.

Jumping a couple of paces away, my chest rises with fast intakes of breathing, my vision clearing from the assaulted images. Beads of sweat roll down the sides of my temples, my gaze lifting to the ceiling where the leather bag swung from silver chains. Cracks in the ceiling stretched, revealing how much power my fist was pounding onto the bag; pieces of drywall falling onto the mats below.

A whistle whips my gaze over my shoulder.

"Well damn," Abel chuckles, seemingly out of breath from his own workout, "what has you so angry?"

I shake my head, catching my breath and adjusting the mitts on my hands before reaching to the floor to pick up my water source. "Nothing, in particular, just reliving past images."

"I know not to fück with you then."

"Hey!" Kyri calls from the corner of the room, "stop cursing, we have children present."

Abel turns in her direction, flicking his ring finger as if to shoot her the finger but still being mindful of the twins that laid out before her on their bellies. A small snort of amusement escapes from the seams of my mouth as I press the water bottle to my lips, gulping the cool liquid.

"Anywho," Abel turns back around with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "How does sparring with me sound?"

I lift a brow from over my bottle in question, lowering the object as I swallow the rest of the contents in my mouth.

"Sparring?"

"Yeah! You know," he makes the motions of jabbing the air in quick, short fluid movements, "fighting each other."

I toss my bottle to the side, refreshed and calm after my small workout, basking in the throb that consumed my muscles.

"Are you sure?" I inquire, neither backing down from the suggestion.