Sera
The gym in the penthouse was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of my sneakers hitting the padded floor.
Adrik stood across from me, his arms folded. He looked far too amused for someone about to teach his wife how to break a person’s face.
“Okay,” he said, tossing me a pair of leather gloves. Rule number one—don’t aim for the face unless you want to send a message. Rule number two—don’t hesitate.”
I pulled the gloves on, tugging the straps tight. “I’m not trying to send a message. I just don’t want to die next time someone points a gun at me.”
His smirk faded, replaced by something sharper.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
He stepped closer and lifted my arms into a basic stance. His touch was gentle but firm, fingers adjusting my elbow, my wrist, my footwork.
“Feet shoulder
