MADE FOR HIM

Levi Veynar

The clang of the punching bag reverberated through the training room, each strike sharp and deliberate. Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes, but she didn’t slow. Every jab, every kick, every pivot was a step closer to the day she would confront Levi.

Her muscles ached, but she welcomed the pain. Pain was clarity; it reminded her she was alive, that she was sharpening herself into something stronger than grief, stronger than anger.

A shadow crossed the doorway, but Bloom didn’t look up. She didn’t need to. She could feel the presence before it even spoke.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” came a familiar voice, calm but tinged with amusement.

Bloom finally lifted her head. Adrian stood there, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression that somehow always made her pulse tighten.

“I don’t have hours,” she said, voice steady despite the fatigue. “I have what I can steal from time itself.”

He took a step closer, eyes sharp, measuring not just her strength but her resolve. “And what if all this… training doesn’t get you what you want?”

Her grip on her stance tightened. “Then I’ll make it get me. There’s no other option.”

For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the city outside and the labored rhythm of her breathing. Adrian’s eyes softened ever so slightly, but he didn’t say more. Instead, he simply nodded and stepped forward.

“Enough,” he said firmly. “You’re pushing too hard alone.”

Bloom wiped sweat from her brow, glare sharp. “I don’t need help.”

He smirked slightly. “I think you do.”

Before she could protest, he got into a fighting stance, hands raised, eyes locked on hers. Bloom tensed, adrenaline spiking. This wasn’t just practice—it was a real test.

“Show me what you’ve learned,” he said.

They moved toward each other, and with a sharp exhale, the duel began. Bloom threw a series of jabs, testing his defenses. Adrian blocked each one with precision, countering with quick, controlled strikes that pushed her out of rhythm.

“You’ve improved,” he said, sidestepping a spinning kick. “But you’re too predictable.”

Bloom growled softly, adjusting her stance. “Then adapt.”

They traded blows—punches, kicks, sweeps—pushing each other to react faster, think smarter. Sweat stung their eyes, muscles burned, and the pounding of their feet on the mats echoed through the room. Every strike was a lesson; every block, a test.

She feinted a left jab, then shifted into a low kick aimed at his thigh. Adrian blocked it effortlessly, but the slight pressure made him step back, giving her a tiny opening. Seizing it, she followed with a rapid combination—palm strike, jab, elbow—and for a brief second, she caught him off guard.

“Not bad,” he said, calm but edged with approval. “But don’t stop there. Predict yourself. Push further.”

Bloom’s lips pressed into a line as she adjusted her stance, lunging forward and ducking under his counter. A side kick grazed his side, and he stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re learning fast,” Adrian said, stepping closer, matching her intensity. “But don’t forget defense. One misstep and it’s over.”

Their movements became a fluid dance of attack and counterattack, testing every limit. Bloom could feel the strain in her muscles, the burn in her lungs, but she didn’t care. She was alive in this moment, sharper and more focused than she had ever been.

Then it happened—her foot caught the edge of the mat. Time slowed. She stumbled forward, arms flailing for balance… and Adrian was there in an instant.

His hands shot out, grabbing her just in time—but the force of their momentum sent both of them sprawling to the ground. Bloom’s chest pressed lightly against his as they landed, the mat absorbing the shock.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the sharp scent of sweat, the warmth of his body so close, and the steady beat of his pulse against hers. Bloom’s mind went blank, a jolt of something she couldn’t name zipping through her.

Adrian froze too, eyes wide for the briefest moment, then a smirk tugged at his lips. “Careful,” he said, voice low, teasing—but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

Bloom’s cheeks burned, and she scrambled backward, regaining her stance, fists raised again, though her heart raced faster than any punch she had thrown. “I… I’m fine,” she stammered, trying to sound fierce, though her voice betrayed her.

“Sure you are,” Adrian said, chuckling lightly, his eyes still lingering on her. “Accidents happen. Even to the best.”

The duel had been about strength, skill, and endurance—but in that moment, it became something else entirely.

Adrian stepped back, lowering his hands. “Enough for now. You’ve got skill, Bloom. But skill without strategy is wasted energy.”

Bloom’s chest heaved as she met his gaze, determination blazing. “Then show me strategy.”

Adrian’s lips curved slightly, a glimmer of challenge in his eyes. “Then we’ll start again. From the beginning. And this time, I won’t hold back.”

Bloom’s pulse quickened—not just from training, but from facing him fully, pushing herself further than ever before. She nodded once, fiercely. “Good. Then don’t.”

The room seemed charged with a new energy. It wasn’t just about punches and kicks anymore—it was a duel of minds, determination, and something unspoken simmering between them. And Bloom was ready to face it.

--

Months had passed since that day in the training room—the day Adrian had stepped in, testing her limits and pushing her further than she had ever gone alone.

Time had changed her. Her punches were faster, her kicks sharper, her reflexes honed to a razor’s edge. Every day, she had pushed herself, sometimes to exhaustion, sometimes to frustration—but she had grown stronger. Stronger than she had thought possible.

Adrian had become more than a sparring partner. He taught her control, strategy, the subtle balance between patience and aggression. He challenged her, taunted her, guided her—and sometimes, she thought, he believed in her more than she believed in herself.

And now, as she stepped out of the training room that afternoon, the warmth of the sun felt like proof of how far she had come.

“Hey.”

Bloom turned, spotting Adrian jogging to catch up, a casual smile on his face. He looked different somehow—less like the strict trainer she had sparred with, more like someone who genuinely wanted to see her.

“You’re out early,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, though her chest still thumped from both training and seeing him.

“I thought you might need a break,” he said, tilting his head. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

Bloom raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Somehow, the idea of walking with Adrian, letting the city air fill her lungs, seemed… right.

They moved side by side, the hum of the city around them. Adrian walked at an easy pace, hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at her with that unreadable expression she had grown familiar with. Bloom focused on keeping her breathing steady, letting the rhythm of their steps match the calm she hadn’t felt in months.

“You’ve changed,” Adrian said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. “Not just stronger… you’re sharper. Faster. More… confident.”

Bloom felt a small smile tug at her lips. “It’s taken months of hard work. You made sure of that.”

He shrugged lightly, a half-smile on his face. “I just guided you. The real work? That was all you.”

For a moment, they walked in silence again, the city noise fading around the quiet bubble of their conversation.

But then, up ahead, a sudden swell of noise cut through the air.

A crowd had gathered in front of an upscale mall, voices buzzing with excitement, phones flashing like stars. Bloom and Adrian exchanged a look before weaving through the throng, curiosity pulling them closer.

“What’s going on?” Adrian asked a man on the edge of the crowd.

The man’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe anyone didn’t already know. “Don’t you see? Levi Veynar—he’s here. The leader of the Veynar syndicate. Richest mafia group in the city.” His voice dropped slightly, awe mixing with fear. “Only twenty-three, and already untouchable. He came to buy designer clothes… for his girlfriend.”

Bloom’s breath caught, her vision narrowing as she followed the direction of pointing fingers and flashing cameras.

And then she saw him.

Levi Veynar.

He stepped out of a sleek black car, the kind of luxury vehicle that screamed wealth and power. Tall, broad-shouldered, his presence alone commanded attention. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, he walked with the ease of someone who believed the world belonged to him.

His arm rested lazily around a laughing brunette’s shoulders as they headed into the mall. Security flanked them, parting the crowd with cold efficiency.

Bloom’s entire body trembled. Her fingers curled into fists, her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. This was him—the man who had ripped her world apart. The man who had stolen her parents’ lives and left her drowning in grief.

She thought she would be ready for this moment. But standing here now, her chest burned, her legs felt weak, and rage flooded her veins like fire.

A firm hand closed around her wrist. Adrian.

“Bloom,” he said under his breath, his voice sharp but steady. “Not here. Don’t lose yourself now.”

She tore her eyes away from Levi only when Adrian tugged her back, pulling her out of the crowd as the noise and flashing cameras faded behind them.

But the image of Levi—alive, untouchable, and laughing—seared itself into her memory.

She had seen him now.

And she swore it wouldn’t be the last time.