Fire & Ice | Soulmate AU 1 |

chapter nine

I go back to the tower on Wednesday for more than one reason. All of the drugs I was given during my last visit to the Riveras' humble abode are quickly exchanged for money provided by the League. I tuck the white envelope full of worn money safely into the bottom of my bag and leave it on a couch of the common floor. Max accompanies me to the elevator that we take down to the athletic floor.

I can't ignore the fatigue that's blanketed over my body as I find a spot on the floor by the sparring mat to tie my running shoes. The reality of how quickly my League career has taken off is finally setting in. There's a reason that agents are typically eased into everything. The learning curve is steep. I've been forced into a position where I'm not taking a slow trek up that curve but instead forcing myself to sprint my way to the top. It's exhausting.

The "Rowan situation" is weighing on me like a ton of bricks, as well. He may not be as connected to his family's business as I previously thought, but family is still family. The relationship between two counterparts is like no other and yet I've been lying right to his face about my family, my friends, my past, and my career since we first laid eyes on each other. We've already started growing closer in the few days we've known each other. Will anything I have to say possibly be enough to make up for a betrayal as big as the one I'm actively committing?

I push all my worries aside to focus on the task at hand. Training. Anything Max can teach me is more important now than ever. Max points to the track once I'm finally ready to go, but he runs with me this time. Well, he tries, at least. He's gasping by lap six, so that's the number he decides we'll stop on for the day.

"Grab a drink of water, you look like you need it," he says, patting my shoulder as he passes by, "Don't wanna push you too hard, you know." A laugh blurts out of my mouth as he stumbles over to where he left his refillable water bottle, huffing as panting as he goes. My breathing is a bit elevated, as well, but we really only kept a jogging pace the whole time so I've barely broken a sweat.

He gets to his feet and point forcibly to the ground once he's collected himself. He has me do push-ups until my arms give out and I'm left lying on the floor like the sad sack I am. I glare up at him and see the exact smirk I expected to be on his face. This seems a bit like payback if you ask me.

"You been getting behind on your program?" he says from above. The playful tilt to his voice is hard to miss.

I groan from the floor in response. He's right. I've barely been able to remember to take a morning run ever since I started trying to worm my way into the Rivera group, let alone anything strength related.

"Alright, up, c'mon," Max commands, taking my hand and yanking me back to my feet. "Let's do some throwing, huh? Something easy."

"Why easy?" I say as I allow a smirk to creep its way onto my face. "You going soft on me now?"

"Nah," he replies, rolling his green eyes before strolling across the main floor to the knife rack. "You just look a bit run down these days, Ford. Undercover work is tricky business, so it's kind of what I expected."

"I was sort of hoping we could do some more range training. I barely know how to hold a gun."

Max's eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. I don't normally try to dictate what we go over every week. I've been letting him lead the way since the day we met.

"You think you're better than what I have planned for today?"

I stride across the room and take the knife from his hands. I definitely have the hang of knife throwing from last time so it only takes me a moment to get into the proper stance. I bring my arm back before flinging the knife forward as hard as I physically can. It lands smack in the middle of the target with a resounding thunk.