Damian's P.O.V.
The sun hung high, beating down on my bare back as I exhaled, gripping the edge of the wooden beam. Sweat dripped down my temple, muscles burning from exertion, but I welcomed the strain. It kept my mind busy. Kept me from thinking too much.
“Getting slow in your old age,” Jonah taunted from below, tossing a wrench onto the ground as he wiped his brow.
I scoffed. “I’d still put you on your ass, and you know it.”
He chuckled, adjusting the tool belt around his waist. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry up before Greg starts whining again.”
We were rebuilding part of the training grounds—a project that had been put off for way too long. The sparring dummies were shot to hell, the barricades half-rotted, and the weapons storage shed was barely holding together. Since there was no immediat
