I moved, shifting into something that felt a little more solid.
He lifted up the training pads. “You’re dropping your left. Keep your guard up.”
I gritted my teeth and adjusted.
“Good. Now hit.”
I did. Hard. The impact snapped through the air, but he barely moved, bracing against it.
“Better,” he said. “But you’re still relying on just your arms. Engage your core. Drive from the ground up.”
I blinked at him, still catching my breath. “Finn, I don’t fucking know what ‘engage your core’means.”
He sighed. “Okay, imagine—”
“If you say ‘imagine you’re about to get punched,’I swear to—”
“Just tighten your abs. Use your whole body, not just your arm.”
I rolled my eyes but adjusted and tried to tense whatever muscles were hidden under my stomach.
Finn nodded. “That’s it. Another.”
I did. Again. Harder.
“Better,” he said. “You good for defence?”
I hesitated. Not much. Only a second. But he caught it.
“Slow, controlled. I’ll call it before I move. That okay?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” he said, lifting the pad slowly. “First one’s low. Left side.”
He moved toward my ribs—carefully, predictably, exactly like he said he would. I blocked it. The motion was awkward, but it was there.
“Good,” he said. “Again. Right side this time.”
Another slow, deliberate tap with the pad. No surprises. No sudden moves.
I blocked.
“Nice! Hands up. Next one’s higher—shoulder level.”
I almost missed, catching it a second too late.
“You’re fine,” he said immediately. “Reset. We go again when you’re ready.”
I didn’t move right away. My heart was still pounding, breath uneven, but not from exhaustion. I let my hands drop, rolling my shoulders as I tried to re-centre myself. I wasn’t used to this, the feeling of pushing back instead of just bracing for impact. Of hitting instead of just waiting to be hit.
“You don’t have to do this, you know that, right?”
“I do,” I said, flexing my fingers at my sides.
“You really don’t. We have it locked down. I promise.”
I knew that. I did. But tell that to Silas.