Grace
Six whole months in Velmore had led to the dirt path at the base of the eastern range, where the engine of my bike was idling so hard it vibrated right up through my boots.
My ribs still ached from the final defense trial, and my palms were raw underneath my leather gloves, but I had held my ground.
Rook had designed a test of nerve specifically meant to break me, a blind mountain run followed by a brutal hand-to-hand spar where he did not hold back a single strike. I had tasted dirt twice, but I had gotten back up every single time until he finally lowered his guard.
The vote in the meeting room of Venom had not been unanimous. Jinx had practically thrown his vote across the table, shouting his approval, while Rook had remained hesitant for several minutes before finally giving
