The training room was vast. Elena stood at the entrance, her eyes taking in every detail. Dark mats covered the floor, worn in places as if they had seen years of impact. One one side was a heavy sandbag dangled to one side, swaying slightly. At the center stood a fighting ring, and along the opposite wall, weapons were lined with unsettling precision—knives, batons, firearms. The faint scent of metal and sweat lingered in the air, mixed with the low grunts and groans of men training. She felt adrenaline rush through her.
Lucian leaned against the rail in the training room, his hands crossed against his chest, sleeves rolled up slightly, his expression was cold and unreadable, his posture relaxed—but there was nothing casual about him. His presence alone shifted the air, made it heavier, harder to breathe. He looks like a model for a cover magazine. Composed and entirely out of reach. His gaze settled on her as soon as she stepped in, she wore a black tank top that matches her shorts, her hair tied in loose bun, enhancing her delicate features, she had a sneakers on her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she Looked at every equipment available, and all the men training, she yelped at the sound of a gunshot not far from them.
Lucian has never questioned his decision or actions, he was a very decisive man. But when it concerns her, she always managed to make him do those things, he was a man of his words but Elena was making him doubt if he had made a grave mistake last night.
He understood where she was coming from with her words but she was supposed to be just under his protection, ignorant of what his dark world looks like, ignorant of the cruelty of the life she was dragged into. But she was so darn stubborn, determined and persistent.
He had met his fair share of women in his life but this little lady always managed to keep him on his feet, he was aware of his possessiveness and over protectiveness and all the feelings he had long forgotten but he didn't dwell on it. He didn't want to.
His gaze never left her, as walked in towards him, he pushed himself to straight up making his way to meet her half way.
Elena halted when she got to him. "I'm here." her voice was firm, letting him know nothing said at this point would make her back out.
Lucian looked at her for a few minutes then he opened his mouth. "Attack me." The words were flat and calm.
Elena blinked trying to figure out if she heard him right. ".... What?"
But he didn't repeat himself, he simply looked at her, waiting.
Elena's heartbeat picked, her hands became sweaty, no explanations, no instructions, nothing just attacked. Her jaw clenched as she clenched her hands tighter. Lifting her hands, she stepped forward aiming for his arm, her movement was awkward and unsure be she was determined.
She didn't even touch him before the world shifted, her wrist was caught mid air, he twisted it just enough to throw her off balance and before she could react, she hit the ground. Hard.
Air rushed out of her lungs as her back met the mat. Immediately, sharp pain shot through her and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Lucian released her like she weighed nothing before he crouched beside her.
Elena looked like she would pass out.
But Lucian knew she wasn't going give up, he ran his hands through her hair gently, if he was going keep her to himself, he was going to mold her perfectly and he has no intention of going easy on her. She would either be protected… or die trying. And she had already chosen.
"You're too slow, Elena. In a real fight, you'd already be dead." The voice was soft, but the words landed colder than the floor beneath her. "Are you sure you want this?" he gave a dangerous smirk. He was taunting her while still running his hands through her hair.
Elena glared at him as she moved her head from his hand, she pushed herself up and he followed, her breath was uneven, her chest rose and fell but her eyes were blazing.
"Again." she said.
This time she didn't wait, she moved faster—stepping in, swinging her arms again, trying to predict him, trying to land something. But it all amounted to nothing. He always moved before she could think.
He shifted his body effortlessly, a turn of his wrist and she was on the ground again.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Minutes felt like hours, her breathing grew heavier and her movements were slower, slopier, even. Her hair clung to her face, strands sticking to her damp skin. Her arms felt heavier with every attempt, her legs unsteady beneath her.
And Lucian, he stood there looking at her with those cold eyes, untouched, not a single drop of sweat on him, he watched her like she was going to break any seconds.
And it made her blood boil
"I'm not done yet." Her voice came out breathless—but steady as she pushed herself up again. Her hands trembled, her body screamed for her to stay put but her eyes, they burned making the amber color brighter.
She lunged at him but this time there was zero hesitation, no careful movement, no thinking, just rage.
Her hand shot forward, faster than before.
Lucian's eyes sharpened. He reacted a fraction later but still caught her wrists. He stepped closer than before pulling her forward instead of throwing her down.
Their bodies collided and her breath hitched.
His hand tightened slightly around her wrist, the other coming up to steady her. They were too close, way too close.
Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.
Lucian's gaze dropped to her face, to her lips then back to her face.
He smirks, enjoying whatever he was doing to her "Now, that's the first real thing you've done."