Page 56 of Legacy Found

Behind me, Luke laughs.

Soren looks at him. "What is she talking about?"

"No idea," Luke says, entirely too quickly.

I grab my water before my mouth can make this situation worse.

The session has gone on way longer than it's supposed to.

I'm exhausted. Sweaty. Every muscle I own is complaining. And I'm having the time of my life, because somehow my quiet daily combat lesson has turned into all four of them, and I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard while getting thrown around.

"One more round," Luke says.

I groan from the middle of the mat. "You're trying to kill me."

"You've got this," Torres offers, unhelpfully cheerful.

"Watch his hips," Soren adds.

"Keep your right shoulder up," says Ander.

I look around at the four of them — four ridiculous, gorgeous, opinionated men, all of them apparently now invested in my footwork. "Anybody else want to tell me what to do?"

Luke's mouth curves. "Ready?"

I drag myself upright, grinning despite the exhaustion. "Come get me."

We spar.

And I don't flinch. Not once. Not when he comes at my head, not when the combinations stack, not when I'm tired and everything in me wants to brace. I just move — read, react, counter — and when it's over I'm breathing like I ran up a mountain and I feel incredible.

Training ends, and I drop straight onto the mat like my strings got cut.

"I'm dead," I announce to the ceiling. "Tell my lizard I loved him."

There's a beat of silence.

"She has a lizard?" Soren mutters.

Torres drops onto the mat beside me. "I'll let everyone know you fought bravely."

I lean into him, just naturally, my shoulder against his, and he lifts an arm and settles it around me, also just naturally, and I let myself relax into the warmth of him. It's easy. It's comfortable. I don't have to think about it — Torres is the person I don't have to perform anything with.

I tip my head up — and Luke is watching us.

Again.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He crouches, picks up his bag, and slings it over his shoulder. "Nothing."

"Sure," I say.

He doesn't answer. He just turns toward the doors, Soren and Ander falling in on either side of him, and I watch the three of them go.

Luke, who somehow makes getting punched every afternoon feel like a good idea.

Soren, who apparently has jokes and a smile he's been hiding from the general population.