Jay
"Choose one to use today," I spoke with a husky undertone, watching her closely. Her shiver didn't go unnoticed, and I turned my attention back to her, waiting for her response.
"For what?" she inquired, curiosity evident in her expression.
"For the fight between you and me," I confirmed, my gaze unwavering as I guided her toward the running machine nearby. Before delving into the fight, a proper warm-up was essential.
"But before that, you're going to practice running for one hour straight," I explained, aware of the inevitable question.
"Why?"
"You don't expect to fight without a proper warm-up, do you?" I raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on my lips.
"Why the hell would I need it anyway?" Her question was laced with irritation, her anger directed at me. "I need a shaped Inna in the next few days," I replied, my tone betraying a hint of weariness. My words seemed to sting her, and I could sense a sharp pang within her, she was angry. Good.
"You know I can take care of myself," she retorted, her gaze challenging mine.
"I know, but not always," I responded calmly, yet a dangerous voice rang in the place, she inherently knew that I was right from the beginning, she was dealing with an assassin which means the underworld, and any possibility may be true.
She fucking needs to be trained.
She might know how to defend herself with the tricks of the knife but it was not enough.
I watched her as she completed her run, I noticed the exhaustion etched across her features. When her once-flowing hair now clung to her cheeks like a second skin, and sweat covered her body, I gestured for her to step off the machine. The sweat-soaked shirt and the sheen on her skin were clear indications of her exertion.
She was exhausted.
After allowing her a brief respite, I was kind enough to give her ten minutes to rest- exactly ten. I led her to the center of the ring. I had changed into gym attire – a white shirt and sports pants – and now I embarked on a series of warm-up exercises, including push-ups. She watched me, her gaze observing my movements closely.
Salty droplets flow down my face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the concrete as I sit to regain my breath. Down my back is a dark stripe showing the dark spots under my shirt, a spreading map of art tattoos.
I can feel her warm gaze on me, she wants me too. But not yet.
"What does a dagger mean to you?" I queried, retrieving the knife she had chosen earlier and handing it to her.
"The dagger is a tool, no more, either for the noble defense of evil cold-hearted deeds."
noble?
"True, but you should not forget that what is more important is not the blade but the heart that wields it" I commented, my words carrying a hint of depth. "Now, let's put it to practice. If you can manage to scratch me, you'll be the winner for the day."
Inna held the knife in her hand in a fighting stance.
Cool.
She motioned for me to get on the fight. If I wanted a fair fight, I could have one. She wouldn't kill me on the ground before I even stood a chance. I still don't have a chance to hurt her, but I wouldn't have any way of knowing that.
Inna wasted no time and charged me. She fought with her fists, exchanging harsh blows, but we both understood that I was winning because all her tries were in vain.
