The Sanctuary

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Three challenges; passed,” Edward intoned, staring with rather apparent disgust as I shifted nervously in my spot. He flexed his right fist against his other palm, as he paced in front me, stocky muscles rippling.

“Today’s test will be an important one.”

I gave a slight nod, but kept my eyes straight ahead. My body felt like I had been pelted by a thousand rocks. I tried to push down the uneasiness that was building up inside of me, but it was becoming a much more difficult task than I had imagined. 

Edward turned away from me, crossing his arms behind his back and nodded at the Riders who had lined up against the wall. “Jonrick!”

My eyes widened as Jonrick stood up and walked towards me, falling into place in front of me. He pushed his blonde hair back from his eyes, but steadily avoided my gaze.

Jonrick was to test me? But he had just passed his Rider training a few weeks ago. Edward looked at me with a smirk and my heart filled with dread.

Jonrick still was not speaking to me. I could hardly avoid seeing him; he was always around Michael, who was always around Reece. Yet the minute we would lock eyes, he would make up an excuse to leave. It was to a point where Reece had me cornered, asking what I had done to make Jonrick avoid me like I was a plague.

All I knew was that the minute Madame Widow gave me permission to train and become a Rider, he seemed to loathe my very essence.

“Today’s challenge!” Edward announced, grinning with something so akin to glee that I had to look twice. “Spar!”

Jonrick met my eyes, and I smiled hesitantly. He responded with a dark look.

This wasn’t going to go well.

“Begin!”

I quickly wrapped up leather strips around my fists but Jonrick was taking his time, focusing on the task as he wound the strips around his hands. He seemed lost in thought. My heart began to patter with nervousness as I waited for him to move, to tell me to do something, anything.

Suddenly, I felt myself falling to the ground, with an unceremonious oomf. Laid out flat on my back, pain began to spread through my spine and I groaned. Quicker than lightening, he had kicked my feet out from under me.

A classic Jonrick move.

“Up,” Jonrick rapped out, his voice cross. I struggled to my feet, none too soon as he jabbed out me, his fist nearly connecting with my jaw before I knocked it away. I began to rely purely on instincts, as his jabs came faster. He was moving too fast for me to think or plan. I just moved.

We began to spar, punch after punch, throw after throw. He was on the offense, and I barely was able to block his movements from connecting with my body.

I ducked, moved and blocked, all the while trying to catch my breath. I could hardly believe how Jonrick was sparring with me. Like he wanted to hurt me.

What in god’s name was wrong with Jonrick?

Finally, I saw an opening and I side-kicked him as hard as I could. He fell to the ground, but a split second later, he leapt back up to his feet, a spectacular movement of agility and had me on the ground once more.

I flipped backwards this time, giving us the space we needed to catch our breath. I had to keep reminding myself that I was the self-proclaimed best at hand-to-hand. But the look in Jonrick’s eyes was unnerving. It was throwing me off, making me a half-moment late on every movement. It was a half-moment I couldn’t afford.