OUR MENDED HEARTS

CHAPTER NINE

Right. Left. Right. Left. Duck. Repeat.

    Sweat soaked every single part of my body as I rammed my fists into the pads in Noah's hands. The Warehouse had long since closed, and the only light was the one above the ring we occupied. The last few days had consisted of learning combinations utilizing all parts of my body. My hands and my feet and my head. Noah taught me every essential tip to avoid hurting myself while still causing inexplicable damage to my opponent.

    Sparring was undoubtedly my favorite exercise thus far in my training just as I had expected it to be. My body sang with each impact of my fist, and I had never felt stronger—more powerful.

Noah's face was serious as he watched me execute his combination to perfection—the same combination I had been practicing for three days straight. A groove had just started to set in when the black pad came barreling toward my head, making a hard impact.

My body remained like an unmoved stone, but I did jump a step back, asking, "What?" Confusion was clear in my voice, though I knew it would be hard to understand me through my heavy breathing.

"Don't expect your opponent to play fair. Expect the opposite." He swung again, but this time I anticipated it, maneuvering out of the pad's reach. My legs had been burning for a few hours now, but I ignored it and forced them to continue to carry me—to move quickly.

He swept his leg on the floor, aiming to knock mine out from under me, but I reacted fast enough—barely. When I jumped up, I felt one of my heels brush his still-moving leg. "They will do anything to gain an advantage."

Noah's voice was gruff and held no room for argument. I had none. All I did was focus. Focus on what he would do next. "You have to learn how to predict their next move. Know it before they make the final decision." With that, he darted both hands forward to hit me in the chest, and while I avoided one, the other snuck just low enough that it made an impact with my stomach. He didn't pull his punch either, so I felt all the air rush out of my lungs, leaving me breathless—not at all in an enjoyable way.

This time I couldn't help but stop and place my hands on my knees to try to gain my ability to breathe back. "You're an arrogant ass," I panted.

Noah just gave me the same stupid, infuriating smirk he only gave me when I was frustrated. It was as if he wished to infuriate me more. He barely gave me any time to gather myself before he swung again and made full contact with my shoulder. I had no idea how he hadn't knocked me to the ground. My core remained strong with my feet still planted on the surface of the ring.

A memory flashed as I clamped my teeth together as tightly as I could. Samuel's face while he slammed his foot into my stomach repeatedly. The sounds of my silent screams that night bounced around my mind like a sound stuck in glass. Without properly thinking, I stepped out and slammed my foot into him, making purchase. I knew the only reason I had succeeded was because he hadn't expected it.

The memories flashing in my mind made me advance once more—slamming a fist into his left pad-encased hand. He took it without hesitation. One of the combinations he had taught me took over my muscles.

I punched with both hands before lifting each leg to kick each pad.

"What drives you, Cassandra?"

His voice was a quiet whisper among the roaring in my head. A small slither hiding in a raging storm.

"What do you see, Cassandra? Samuel or your mother?"

"Shut up," I seethed.

Janette appeared with a smile dripping with satisfaction from my pain—absorbing it and wanting more. Wanting more of my blood spilled. More bruises to form.