We started before the sun was even up.
Selene had me hauled down to some hidden sub-basement I didn’t even know existed. Getting there required a freight elevator and two separate retinal scans. The room was just a massive, windowless concrete box, and it looked like a literal warzone. Deep gouges in the walls. Craters in the floor. Giant, rust-colored stains that I decided not to ask about.
I stood in the center of the floor wearing black leggings and a fitted tank, trying to get my heart rate under control.
"You’ve figured out how to shift without panicking," Selene said, doing a slow lap around me. "Cute. But that’s basic survival. Combat is an entirely different language."
"Meaning?"
She stopped dead. "Survival is about not dying. Combat is making sure the other guy stops breathin
