Shields

Chapter 23: Sparring

I slammed my fist into the punching bag over and over again, channeling my anger and hurt into my arms and releasing it into the bag. Wilkson killed Brikan. I thought, slamming my fist into the bag again. Hurt crashed over me like a wave, along with an immense feeling of loss. I didn't bother to push it down. I just continued hitting the bag, harder and harder each time.

My fist smashed into the bag again, and with a loud tearing sound, it ripped free of its chain and flew across the room. Stone faced, my guards just moved to the side and let it crash into the white-washed wall.

I had to stop myself from throwing another punch at thin air. For a few moments, I just stood there, breathing in through my mouth and letting out my breath through my nose, just like Brikan had taught me. Big breaths, slow and steady. Don't think about Brikan.

One of the guards stepped forward and handed me a water bottle. Gratefully, I guzzled it down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Thanks," I said quietly as the guard joined the others.

He nodded wordlessly and I looked at them all and then at the room.

It was big, and mostly empty, except for exercising machines that were lined against the wall and the small indoor gun range installed on the opposite wall. Now that I'd destroyed the punching bag, I didn't have anything else to hit. I still had a lot of energy left to expend and I knew there was still a deep well of rage inside me that I could channel into energy and use to continue on even when I shouldn't be able to.

Brikan had taught me that. "Anger causes you to make mistakes. You have to channel it into energy and use that to take down your enemy. Until you can use your anger against your enemy, you will never be able to fight with a cool head."

The room was covered in a dark green rug everywhere except where the machines and the gun range were located. It would be perfect for fighting.

My heart sank when I saw a dark red splotch in the middle of the room. They clearly hadn't been able to get the stain out, or hadn't wanted to. It was darker than everything and I could almost see Brikan crumpling in front of me again.

I pushed back tears, anger boiling inside of me again. I looked back at my guards. "I need a partner to fight. Maybe Wilkson actually taught you something and I'll get a good workout." My voice sounded cold in my ears, completely void of emotion and everything else. I was like an emotional dessert.

They all shook their heads. "We can't fight you. The minute you got the chance, you'd run," the biggest one said.

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. "There are four of you and one of me. Do you really think I'm going anywhere? Only one of you needs to fight, although two might be more of a challenge. I wouldn't go anywhere anyway, because Wilkson would just cruelly murder Harry and Achmetha and Lyss would never forgive me for letting Harry die," I deadpanned. "And I'm supposed to work out, so which of you wants to fight me?"

They all looked at each other and then they looked at the taller, skinny man. "Gary? You're the best fighter here. Why don't you do it?" the biggest guy said.

I watched them all. Gary seemed unshaken. "Sure, I can take him. Make sure to bet on me," he said.

He stepped up near to me, and I got a good look at him. In his all-black clothing, he seemed to blur every time he stepped into the shadows. His blonde hair framed his face and a pale scar ran down the length his high cheekbone. His sharp green eyes scanned me, taking in all of the details the same way I was with him.

His wiry build could help him, if he knew how to use it to his advantage. From the look of him, he did, which would certainly make this fight an interesting one. His legs and arms were longer than mine and he was a full head taller than me. He seemed to be all muscle too, and his crooked smile told me that he'd spent his life fighting for the top, same as I had.