DALTON POV
I could still feel the soreness in my shoulder where Derrick’s elbow had connected during our final round, but it felt good. A deep, satisfying kind of pain that reminded me I was alive. That I still had control over my own body, over something—anything—in this cursed Academy. After all, punching Derrick in the face, even during a sanctioned sparring match, was as close to therapy as I was going to get.
Letting out steam and testosterone in more than one way was my only real alternative to cornering Kai in a hallway and demanding answers to questions I shouldn’t be asking yet. Shouldn’t—but wanted to. Craved to.
But the sparring helped. For now.
I could actually manage to listen to more than two words in the morning lecture. Big achievement. Not that I cared much for the det
