Page 43 of Scarred Bratva King

She huffs, her smirk softening into something close to a grin as she turns to face me. “Fine, Sensei. Teach me more of your deadly ways.”

“Sensei?” I arch a brow, stepping back to motion her forward. “I like the sound of that. Now, let’s see if you can listen.”

She lunges forward, aiming a sloppy strike at my chest. I block it effortlessly, catching her wrist in midair. “Sloppy. Again.”

She rolls her eyes but resets her stance, lunging again. This time her movements are sharper, more deliberate. I block her strike once more, twisting her arm slightly and forcing her off balance.

“Again,” I say, releasing her.

By the third attempt, her movements are improving, her strikes more calculated. Sweat beads on her forehead, and her breathing quickens, but she doesn’t complain.

I stop for a drink. “Don’t think one lucky move makes you a pro,” I tell her. “You need to exude confidence—not just on the mat, but in every step you take. Your posture, your presence, even how you walk into a room. It all matters.”

“Exude confidence?” She snorts, turning to face me fully. “What am I supposed to do, walk around tossing banknotes at people?”

“Make them believe you might,” I reply, stopping in front of her. “Because if you don’t believe you’re in control, no one else will either. Now, shoulders back, chin up.”

She does as I say, mimicking my stance but exaggerating it slightly. “Do I look confident yet, or do I just look constipated?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Better. Now try again.”

This time, she lunges with precision, her strike more controlled. I block her easily but nod in approval. “Good. Now imagine your opponent isn’t me but Marco. You’re not trying to outmuscle them—you’re using their strength against them.”

“Marco, huh?” she mutters, stepping back to reset. “Alright, Goliath, let’s try this again.”

There’s a spark in her now, a mixture of determination and defiance that reminds me of myself when I first started training. It’s... impressive.

After a particularly strong move, she steps back, hands on her hips, grinning up at me. “Not bad, huh? You might even start getting scared of me soon.”

I smirk, shaking my head. “Scared? No. Impressed? Maybe.”

She winks, her grin widening. “Good. You’d better stay impressed, because next time, I’m taking you down for real.”

“Next time?” I tilt my head, stepping closer, close enough to see the flicker of challenge in her eyes. “We’ll see about that. But for now, we’re done. Good work.”

As she grabs her water bottle, she glances over her shoulder, that familiar playful glint in her gaze. “Admit it—you’re starting to think I might be a natural.”

“Natural pain in my ass, maybe,” I call back, earning a laugh as we leave the gym together.

21

MAXIM

Ihear the door creak open, and my casual lean against the wall becomes a little less casual as she steps out.

The swimsuit fits her snugly, accentuating every curve, the sleek black fabric a stark contrast against her skin.

Her hair’s up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face, and her bare feet pad lightly on the tiles as she crosses the room. She looks so good.

I force my gaze to stay level with hers, but it’s a struggle. “Took you long enough,” I say, pushing off the wall and turning toward the pool.

“Worth the wait, though, wasn’t it?” she shoots back, striding past me with a confidence that makes my pulse quicken.

I don’t answer, because I’m not sure I trust my voice right now. Instead, I head to the pool’s edge, grabbing a towel and tossing it onto one of the lounge chairs.

She follows, stopping a few feet away to dip a toe in the water. Her nose scrunches adorably, and I catch myself staring again.

“You’re stalling,” I say, stripping off my shirt and tossing it aside.

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