Lunch had been quiet but good—eggs, fruit, leftover bacon from breakfast, and plenty of coffee. Danielle hadn’t eaten much, but it was enough to keep her upright. Now, stepping out of Seth’s room in a sports bra and shorts, she squinted slightly at the brightness pouring through the hall windows. The sun had come out in full force, and the air smelled faintly like warm grass and pine through the open windows—reminders that they were heading outside for training, not into some temperature-controlled gym.
She wasn’t sure if “training” was the right word, really. Connor had called it sparring, but Danielle still didn’t feel like she knew what she was doing most of the time. Her muscles felt tight—not from excitement, but more from nerves, like her body was trying to decide if it was supposed
