Free Web NovelChapter 315: Chapter 315 Proud Costs Nothing
Ezra
I like the training field best at dusk, cool air, lights even and fewer people cutting across the mats to grab selfies. I set my chest cam to 60 fps, check the angle on my phone, and hit record. The timer app gives me three quick beeps. Rounds will run two minutes on, one off.
Allison stretches beside me, hoodie off, wraps snug, hair tied high. She rolls her shoulders and bounces on the balls of her feet. The bruise on her forearm from Darius is a faint line now. She taps it once, testing range, and then drops into stance.
’Say it clean when it’s time,’ Damon says. ’No almost.’
"Warmup first," I say. "Shadow four-count. Then we add the slip and pivot."
She nods. We mirror each other through the pattern; jab, cross, rear-step, pivot off the lead foot, recover. Her footwork is crisp. On the third pass she adds a weight shift I like. I point at her rear heel.
"Keep that light on the entry," I say. "It sets you up to leave without getting stuck."
She corrects on the next rep without losing tempo.
The timer beeps. "Round one," I say. "I’ll feed pressure. You pick the exit."
We touch gloves. I advance with a steady pace, hands up, no surprises. She slides left, checks distance, angles out and tags my shoulder with a light tap that won’t bruise. I crowd to test her, to which she drops and cuts under, clean. The cam will catch her angle and I tilt my chest a touch to frame it.
"Good," I say. "Again."
She repeats the sequence at higher speed. Breath steady, no wasted motion. I toss a feint but she doesn’t bite. She takes ground when I give it, then gets out before I can pin her. I grin despite myself. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
’Proud costs nothing,’ Damon says, amused. ’Say it where she can hear.’
"You’re fast," I say, and mean all of it. "Don’t apologize for that with extra steps."
She flashes a quick smile, but it’s gone as soon as it lands. We work through four exits; slip left, slip right, drop step, spin out. On the spin I check her hip with my palm and she uses the contact to complete the turn. It’s tidy.
The timer chirps and we break for water. She pulls a small notebook from her bag and scribbles something with her left hand.
"You take notes after rounds?" I ask.
"After everything," she says. "I forget otherwise."
I tap my chest cam. "You’ll have a video, but I like the notebook."
"I like both," she says. "Video shows the truth. Notes tell me what I was thinking."
Round two. I switch pressure to low line kicks, no head shots. She checks with her shin, steps out, answers with a quick two-to-the-body that lands where I left the gap. I grunt and she doesn’t gloat. Good. freēwēbnovel.com
"Add the inside trip off the check," I say.
She nods and threads it in on the next pass, shin meets shin, her foot hooks inside my ankle, my balance goes light. I catch myself before I go down, and she releases the hook on my reset, respectful and fast.
"Again," I say, smiling because she earned it. "Then we take it to the fence."
We jog to the far end where the chain-link runs hip-high to mark the spar space. I press her there and make her choose, frame at the neck and pivot out, or drop a level and swim for underhooks. She tries both. The first time her elbow floats and I stick her longer than she wants. The second time she sets the frame like she means it and turns me clean. I feel the corner of the fence dig my back and laugh.
"You’ll like that on a wolf," I say. "They hate being moved."
"Darius hated everything last night," she says, breath even. "Especially losing."
The timer chirps again and we break. I check the cam battery and swap packs while she rolls her ankles.
Patrol Six passes along the track just beyond the mats, two warriors and a she-wolf in a training tank, all three in a loose jog that says "cooldown." They slow when they notice us. The she-wolf, Tamsin, lifts her chin.
"Nice footwork, Grey," she calls, tone neutral with an edge people pretend is a compliment. "You move like you’re running from something."
Allison doesn’t look over. "I move to win," she says.
The warrior on Tamsin’s right snorts. The other one nudges him with an elbow and they keep jogging. Tamsin lingers half a second, long enough for me to catch the play, she’s waiting for me to say something. Anything.
’Say it,’ Damon says. ’Stop borrowing silence from people who like the sound of it.’
The word is right there. Luna, simple, clean and true.
I swallow it.
"Keep moving, Tamsin," I say instead, even and mildly. "Cooldown isn’t a gossip lap." She flushes, holds my eyes for a second and then jogs to catch up. The choice I made sits in the space between me and Allison. She doesn’t comment. That’s worse.
Round three. I set the timer and make my voice normal. "Fence again. Your call."
She doesn’t nod, she just moves. The first exchange is sharp. I feel her temper in the way she sets the frame, steady, not wild. I match it and we trade positions twice. I force myself not to overcorrect into praise that would feel like payment for what I didn’t say.
"Switch," I call, and we work the other side. Her right-hand exit is better than her left. She notices it too. On the reset she adjusts her foot position without me telling her.
’You lost ground,’ Damon says, not cruel. ’Own it before it owns you.’
I don’t answer him. I can’t yet.
We call the round and she taps gloves and steps back to the bag without looking at me. I strip the wraps off my hands and flex my fingers. The air cools a degree.
