Page 9

Eight

Killian

Malcom is doing pull-ups on the metal bar in their home gym.

I woke up around 4:00 in the morning just to see what time Malcom usually does his workout. From one of the past moles that worked in the house they told me that Malcom would start his workout in the early mornings.

During his workouts, he’s by himself, not around family or focused on what could possibly be a threat to him.

Malcom releases the metal bar and plants his feet on the ground. He grabs his towel from the weight bench and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

I rest my hand on my gun that’s tucked into my waistband as he grabs his water bottle and takes a sip.

As I’m about to pull it out I hear footsteps walking nearby. I remove my hand and look behind me only to see Reign with clothes in her hands and a small smile on her face.

Why does her smile make my heart clench?

And why is she smiling this early in the morning?

“Morning,” she says and hands me the clothes. “Baba found a change of clothes for you. She thought you’d be more comfortable with that instead of your suit. She has more clothes just until we can get you a wardrobe set up here. But-”

“Thanks,” I cut her off.

Her grandma has been giving me weird looks ever since I arrived. It’s not the kind of looks that make me think she doesn’t trust me. It’s more like a sympathetic look and I hate it.

I hate when people do that.

I hate when people feel sorry for me and give me sympathy because it’s only a reminder.

“Well, I know you probably didn’t want to train or work out in the clothes you were wearing so I thought these would be good.”

I honestly thought she was going to sleep in this morning. That’s why I chose to do this early. I was hoping to study his routine, maybe get a kill in and just be done.

Reign is wearing athletic shorts that compliment her long pale legs and a black shirt that shows off the silhouette of her breasts and then her snatched waist.

And let’s not forget about that smile she wears with every single goddamn outfit.

“They’re fine,” I say, walking past her and walking towards the house.

“You still don’t talk very much do you,” Reign comments.

“So, you do remember me from that night.” I confirm.

“It’s hard to forget someone like you,” she says, which makes my heart clench again.

I don’t say anything to her as I get inside the house and slam the door shut.

I strip my white dress shirt off and dress pants. Last night I slept in my briefs and assumed I’d be stuck in these clothes for a while since Malcolm isn’t very fond of me, so I didn’t think he’d give me clothes.

The clothes Reign gave me were black shorts and a white sleeveless compression shirt. I only change into the black shorts since I don’t like working out with shirts on since it’s uncomfortable.

I have my white tennis shoes from yesterday so those should work.

I get out of the house and see Reign squatting down and looking at a flower bush.

I caught a glimpse of them yesterday as well as the garden they have. I close the door behind me making Reign turn around to face me. The smile wipes off her face when her eyes dart to my bare chest.

I ignore the feeling of butterflies in my stomach as she admires my chest and the tattoos that crawl up my arms.

“Ready?” I ask, walking towards her.

She meets my eyes and I notice her face flushes red. “Yea, what do we do first?”

I walk towards their home gym as she follows me. “What’s your favorite combat method?”

“Well, I’m familiar with hand-to-hand combat. Papa taught me a lot of combat moves,” she says. “What’s yours?”

“It’s not a combat move, but it’s my favorite choice of weapon.”

“What is it?”

“Fire.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because it can do a lot of damage while still looking breathtaking.”

“You probably learned how to walk through fire since you got me out of the fire yesterday so easily.” She jokingly says.

If only she knew how hard and damaging it actually was for me.

Once we get to the gym, I walk over to the punching bag. “Show me what your dad taught you.” Reign walks to where I’m standing in front of the bag. She wraps her hands but doesn’t put gloves on. For such a small girl with small hands, she should be wearing gloves when punching a punching bag. I don’t stop her as she walks towards the bag and starts punching hard. Another mistake which I furrow my eyebrows at. My dad always said to control your punches and to not go fast at first because you never know who you’re fighting. You could be wasting all your energy punching hard at first instead of evening every punch out. Is her dad purposely trying to get her killed in the field? “Stop,” I say and walk towards her.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Reign asks, her breathing getting heavy.

“Are you tired?” I cross my arms over my chest which makes Reign’s eyes dart to my arms before meeting my eyes.

“No. Why?” she says, trying to control her breathing.

“‘Cause you breathing like a dog who just ran down the street on a hot day tells me otherwise.” I narrow my eyes on her. “Stand straight, slop slouching first.” Reign straightens up quickly. “I’m pretty sure your dad is setting you up to fail.”

“Why do you say that?” She looks up at me through her eyelashes.

I get closer to her. “Because how you punched the bag was one of the best ways to get you tired and killed when fighting someone. You became sloppy after a minute. You shouldn’t be punching the bag that hard for the first few minutes. Because when you become tired and sloppy like that,” I put two fingers against her temple like I’m aiming a gun “boom, you’re dead.”

“They aren’t that sloppy,” she argues.

“Your breathing shouldn’t be so heavy. You should be able to hear what’s around you. Close your eyes and drop your hands.” Reign gives me a look before closing her eyes and dropping her hands from her waist and letting them hang by her side. I go to stand behind her and place my lips near her ear. “I want you to focus on the things around you. What do you smell? What do you feel? What do you think about when fighting? What do you hear?” I whisper, my lip grazing her ear as she shivers against me.

“I smell your cologne and sweat. I feel cold air hitting my body and your lips near my ear.”

“What do you think about when fighting?’

“I think about the stuff Papa has taught me and how I want to make him proud.”

Mistake number one.

Her dad has shit lessons.

“And what do you feel? What are you focused on right now to make your breathing controlled?’

“You.”

Stupid girl.

She has no clue I’m going to burn her to the ground.