Page 28 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

twenty-three

Alina

F ollowing Kade to the training facility, I step into the vast room, my jaw dropping.

Kade stands in the center, his presence commanding the entire room. "Center of the mat, Bennett."

I bristle at his tone but comply, moving to join him. His intense blue eyes scan me from head to toe, assessing every detail of my stance.

"First lesson," he rumbles. "Situational awareness. In our world, threats come from everywhere."

My eyes dart around. "Like that camera in the corner? Or the hidden door behind the equipment rack?"

A flicker of approval crosses his face. "Good catch. Now, show me what you've got. "

Without warning, he launches a controlled strike toward my midsection. I sidestep, deflect his arm, and counter.

He easily evades. "Not bad. Carlos Martinez taught you?"

"Jenny's father," I confirm, maintaining eye contact. "After she died."

Understanding flashes in Kade's eyes. "He gave you fundamentals. What I'm teaching you goes beyond self-defense—this is about survival against trained killers."

"I can handle myself," I insist, chin lifting.

Kade's mouth twitches. "Prove it."

I thrust forward with a quick jab. He moves like liquid, sidestepping with preternatural speed. Before I can react, I'm face-down on the mat, arm twisted behind my back, his weight pinning me.

"Good instincts," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "But predictable. A real operator would have you dead before you realized you were in danger."

Heat flushes through me—anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

"Don't let your previous success go to your head." He releases me. "You weren't exactly facing elite assassins at the restaurant."

I scramble up, face burning. "I handled myself fine."

"Three amateurs in a crowded dim sum place with flying plates and screaming customers?" His lips quirk. "Those idiots couldn't hit the broad side of a dumpling cart."

Despite my frustration, a laugh escapes me. "Fine. So teach me something useful."

His eyes darken. "You'll regret asking for that. "

For the next thirty minutes, Kade demonstrates techniques I've never seen before—pressure points that drop opponents instantly, strikes that bypass conventional blocks, counter-intuitive movements that use an attacker's momentum against them.

"This is for when someone has a knife." He positions himself behind me. His arm encircles my waist, pulling me flush against his hard chest. "They won't telegraph the attack like in movies."

He guides my hand to his wrist. "Feel this? If someone grabs you here, your instinct is to pull away. Don't. Instead—"

He rotates my body suddenly, and I twist his arm in a direction that makes him vulnerable.

"Holy shit," I breathe. "That actually works."

"Marine combat technique. Most people never see it coming. Carlos never taught you that? Interesting oversight." He rubs his jaw, still looking impressed.

I shrug, feeling a tiny spark of pride. "Not exactly standard curriculum for an investigative journalist. Usually I'm behind a camera or notebook, not taking down suspects. Though lately..." I trail off, thinking about how my path has taken some unexpected turns.

We move through a series of drills, each more complex than the last. Despite my stubborn pride, I'm impressed. Carlos taught me to fight dirty, Kade is teaching me to fight lethal.

"Again," he commands when I fail to execute a particularly complex evasion. "You're overthinking it."

Frustration builds in my chest. "Maybe if you explained it better— "

In a blur of movement, I'm suddenly airborne. I crash onto the mat, stunned, as Kade pins me with embarrassing ease.

"Explanations won't save you in the field," his face inches from mine. "Muscle memory will."

I buck against him, trying to break free. "Get. Off. Me."

"Make me," he challenges, eyes glittering.

I try every move he's shown me, but he counters each attempt effortlessly. Sweat beads on my forehead, my breathing ragged.

"Stop fighting my strength," he murmurs, adjusting his grip. "Use leverage, not force."

I force myself to relax, sensing an opening. When I shift my hips, he momentarily loses balance. I exploit the weakness, rolling him partially off.

"Better," he acknowledges, a hint of respect in his tone.

For a split second, we're face to face, breathless. Something electric passes between us.

"Now," Kade's voice rougher than before, "let's try something more advanced."

He helps me up, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "This is a takedown that works against larger opponents."

As he demonstrates, his hands slide along my waist, positioning me precisely. Each touch sends sparks dancing across my skin.

"Your stance is too narrow," he moves behind me. His foot nudges my legs wider apart. "You need a solid foundation. "

I'm now acutely aware of his proximity, the heat from his body. His hands grip my hips, adjusting my position with a firmness that makes my stomach flip.

"Now," he continues, voice dropping lower, "when they come at you, you pivot here—" His palm presses against my lower back, guiding me into a turn that brings us chest to chest.

His stare captures mine, a raw hunger flashing. My heart thunders against my ribs as his attention drifts downward to my mouth.

"And then?" I whisper.

"Then you use their momentum against them." He shows, and suddenly I'm pressed against the wall, his massive frame caging me in.

My heart hammers as he pins my wrists above my head, his body flush against mine. "Feel how I'm controlling you without hurting you? That's the difference between discipline and brute force."

I nod, unable to form words. The solid wall of his chest presses against me with each breath, and there's no mistaking the hard ridge pressing against my stomach.

"Now," he murmurs, "try to break free."

I struggle against his grip, but it's futile. The effort only grinds my body against his, creating a friction that sends a wave of pleasure through me.

"Relax," he whispers. "Use technique, not strength."

I force myself to think past the distraction of his body. Remembering a move he showed me earlier, I shift my weight and twist, creating momentary space.

Before I can capitalize on it, Kade's arm snakes around my waist, yanking me back against him. His mouth grazes my ear. "Better," he growls. "But not good enough. "

Heat pools low in my belly as his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear. I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.

"Kade," I breathe, unsure if I'm asking him to stop or begging for more.

"This," he murmurs, "is what happens when you let your guard down."

His lips trail down my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin. My nipples tighten, pressing against my sports bra as arousal floods through me.

"Is this part of the training?" I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

"Very important part," he rumbles, his hand sliding up to cup my face. "Distraction can be deadly."

When his mouth finally claims mine, I'm already half-undone. His kiss is different from the one on the rooftop—more commanding, more deliberate. I melt into him, my body arching involuntarily against his solid frame.

His hand slides from my face down my neck, tracing the outline of my collarbone before dipping lower. When his palm covers my breast through my shirt, I moan into his mouth.

Kade growls in response, deepening the kiss as his thumb brushes over my hardened nipple. The dual sensation of his mouth and hand sends waves of pleasure radiating through me.

"Kade," I gasp when we break for air. "We shouldn't—"

"Then tell me to stop," he challenges, his hand moving lower, stroking over my stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of my leggings.

I should. I know I should. But the words won't come .

His fingers slip beneath the elastic, stroking lower with agonizing slowness. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

"That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Stop fighting what you want."

Just as his fingers reach the edge of my underwear, the training room door slides open with a hydraulic hiss.

We spring apart, but not fast enough.

Asher stands in the doorway, his expression unchanged save for a single raised eyebrow. "Interesting technique," he observes dryly. "Though I don't recall that particular move from our military training."

Kade's professional mask slams back into place. "What is it, Asher?"

"We think we found Roman's location," Asher's dark eyes flickering between us.

"Matches the coordinates from the message.

" He pauses, adding with deadpan delivery, "Though if you'd prefer to continue your.

.. hands-on tactical instruction, I can tell the team you're working on an especially challenging technique. "

Heat floods my face. Kade's jaw tightens, but I catch the briefest flash of frustration in his eyes before it's replaced by razor-sharp focus.

"Time to get ready."