Chapter 84: Snitch Sensei Has No Mercy!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•-

Nikolai started with the fundamentals: stance, balance, foot placement, moving without crossing my legs, keeping my hands up, protecting my face, and how to fall.

The last point sounded absurd until he demonstrated it.

Then I got it. Clearly, falling wrong could turn an ordinary punch into a broken wrist, shoulder, or back.

"Again," Nikolai said for the millionth time that day.

I got up. "Are you blind? I just did it!"

"You fell wrong."

"I fell perfectly."

"You nearly landed on your elbow."

"But I didn’t."

Nikolai gave me a long look before looking away. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Then he said, "Again."

So I tried and failed. Again. I failed differently. By the sixth attempt, I was starting to think he was secretly enjoying watching me suffer.

"You’re a fucking sadist," I accused him.

"No."

"Liar."

"No."

"You have the personality of a brick wall, so I don’t know why I expected honesty."

"I am being honest."

I fell backward, and the mat caught me. My dignity did not.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. "This is humiliating."

"Get up, Alex."

I groaned and pushed myself upright, my arms already beginning to shake.

Next was blocking. Nikolai showed me how to raise my forearm, move my body instead of trying to absorb the force, and protect my head against side attacks.

It all looked easy when he did it. Then it was my turn. Suddenly, my arms forgot how to work.

"Too slow." he said.

I blocked.

"Too wide." he said.

I adjusted.

"Your feet."

I glanced down at them. "What about them?"

"They’re wrong."

"How can my feet be wrong?"

"You’re standing like you’re waiting for a bus."

I looked at my stance. "I’ve never been attacked while waiting for a bus."

"That doesn’t mean you should stand like that."

"You don’t know. Maybe buses aren’t dangerous."

"Alex."

"Yes?"

"Please focus."

I sighed. "Okay."

He stepped toward me, and I immediately raised my hands.

"Good," he said.

I blinked. That was the first compliment he’d given me all morning. I almost smiled.

Then he moved. I blocked one strike but missed the second and lost my balance, landing flat on my back.

Nikolai looked down at me.

I looked up at him. "I’m starting to dislike you."

"You blocked the first one, not too bad for your first day."

My eyebrows shot up. "Was that another compliment?!"

"Don’t get excited."

"I totally think it was!"

"Get up."

So I got up and tried again.

And again. And again.

By the time we started working on basic counters, my entire body felt heavy and hot.

Sweat had drenched the back of my shirt, my hair clung to my forehead, and my lungs seemed to be filing a formal complaint against me.

The issue was that every time I got frustrated, I became reckless, and Nikolai picked up on it right away.

"You’re rushing."

"I want to hit you."

"You’re supposed to focus on defending yourself."

"I contain multitudes."

He sidestepped when I lunged, and I stumbled past him, before I could turn, he swept my foot, sending me down again.

I stared at the ceiling. "Did you just trip me?"

"Yes."

"That’s rude!"

Nikolai extended a hand. I took it, and he pulled me up. "Again."

I was panting. "Do you have another word aside from ’again’?"

"No."

"Of course you don’t."

We tried again. This time, when he stepped toward me, I remembered what he had said: Don’t try to match strength, just move.

I shifted instead of pushing against him. His hand came at my shoulder, and I caught his wrist.

For half a second, we both froze.

Then I twisted awkwardly, stepped around him, and managed to throw him off balance just enough that he had to correct his footing.

I froze and Nikolai looked at me. I looked at him. "Did I just—"

"Yes."

A silly grin spread across my face. "I did!"

"But it was clumsy."

"I don’t even care...wooo! Fuck yeah!"

His expression stayed mostly blank while I celebrated, but there was something different in his eyes now: a little less resignation, maybe even a hint of respect.

"You learn quickly when you stop trying to overpower everything."

I wiped sweat from my forehead. "So you’re saying I’m talented."

"No."

"Fine, I’ll take what I can get."

We kept going until my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Eventually, Nikolai called for a break around noon.

I dropped onto the mat without a care, not even thinking about the hygiene as I lay there with my arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling as my chest rose and fell.

I had survived, technically. I wasn’t sure what surviving really meant, but mine involved not moving unless absolutely necessary.

Thirteen more days...thirteen.

Damn, I was going to die.

The gym doors swung open. "Alex, sir?"

I turned my head. Leon stood there, water bottle and towel in hand, looking horrified.

"Oh no." He hurried to me. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Your face is red."

"That’s because I’m exercising."

Leon crouched beside me and handed me the water and I took it. "Thanks."

"You should’ve told me you were training."

"I didn’t know I needed to make a formal announcement."

"You could’ve hurt yourself."

"I didn’t."

"You could still—"

"Leon."

He halted, I managed a weak smile. "Its okay, I’m fine...I have to do this."

Nikolai stood nearby, watching me. After a moment, he said, "You have one advantage in battle."

I looked at him. "What?"

"You’re unusually flexible...even for male onega"

I blinked. "That sounds like something you should tell me before I accidentally bend myself in half."

"Use it."

"How?"

"Don’t try to fight like an Alpha. You won’t win by matching strength."

I looked down at my hands. For most of my life, weakness had been something people used against me. Something they pointed out.

Something they expected me to accept. I had spent years being pushed around, ordered around, threatened, controlled, and told that there was nothing I could do about it because the people standing over me were stronger.

Even Lorenzo’s protection, as real as it was, had come with the uncomfortable truth that I was still dependent on someone else to keep me safe.

I didn’t want that anymore.

Maybe I couldn’t become strong enough to take down a room full of armed men. Maybe I would never be able to fight someone like Lorenzo.

Maybe in two weeks I would still end up flat on my back while he stood over me with that irritatingly calm expression. But this was different. This pain was mine.

This exhaustion belonged to me. For once, nobody else had chosen it for me. I had.

I took another drink of water, then slowly pushed myself to my feet.

My legs immediately protested, but I ignored them.

I had been beaten before. I had been hurt before. I had spent most of my life learning how to survive things I never chose.

At least this time, when the pain came, it would be teaching me something beneficial... so I would take it. I would complain about it.

I would probably insult Nikolai at least three times a day, but I would take it.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t learning how to endure being helpless. I was learning how not to be while proving to myself and everyone else that I was more than a weakling.