Isabelle’s POV
Six months later
The mat was cold. Again.
I stared up at the ceiling, breath knocked clean out of my lungs, limbs aching, back stinging from yet another slam.
“You need to move faster,” Nyla said above me, not unkindly, but not gently either. “You hesitate, I put you down.”
She offered her hand. I didn’t take it.
I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up, ignoring the way my elbows trembled. My knees burned from the earlier falls, and my shoulder screamed every time I moved it, but I forced myself upright anyway.
“Again,” I said, brushing hair from my face. My fingers were shaking, but my voice was steady.
Nyla raised a brow. “You sure?”
“I said again.”
I squared my stance. My muscles protested, but I didn’t care. I was tired of being thrown, tired of being looked
