The training ground fell into tense silence as Ivy and Lucian circled each other. The air between them was charged—part challenge, part curiosity.
Lucian made the first move, a swift jab meant to test reflexes, not harm. Ivy dodged easily, barely shifting her footing, her eyes locked on his. She countered with a low sweep aimed at his legs—clean, calculated, not flashy. Lucian stepped back just in time, his expression unreadable, but his stance shifted: this wasn't play.
Adrian, off to the side, leaned forward like a child watching his favorite action scene.
*"No way. That sweep was clean!"*
Lucian advanced again, this time quicker. A feint to the left, then a grab at Ivy's wrist. She twisted smoothly, evading and slipping behind him, palm pressed lightly to the center of his back before she stepped away again.
*"If I was really your enemy, you'd be down now,"* she said quietly, her voice even.
Lucian's jaw ticked. He moved faster now—his strikes sharper, not careless but testing her at full capacity. Ivy kept up, blocking and dodging, matching his rhythm like a shadow. They exchanged a flurry of fast, controlled blows—none landing, all intentional, like a deadly dance in slow motion.
Then Lucian caught her wrist.
For a breath, they froze—close, too close. Ivy's breath caught in her throat. She met his gaze, defiant and calm. Without breaking eye contact, she shifted her weight and flipped him.
Lucian hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Adrian exploded.
*"Ohhhhhh my—she flipped you! SHE FLIPPED YOU!"*
Lucian lay still for a moment, staring up at the sky. Then, with practiced grace, he stood, brushing dirt from his shirt.
*"You cheat,"* he muttered under his breath.
Ivy smirked, wiping sweat from her brow.
*"You got distracted. That's not my fault."*
Lucian didn't respond, but his gaze lingered—longer than usual.
Adrian jogged over between them.
*"Okay, I officially vote that Ivy trains me from now on. Sorry, bro, you're old school."*
Lucian ignored him, eyes still locked with Ivy's.
A flicker of respect passed between them—silent, solid.
*"Training's over,"* Lucian finally said, walking away.
Adrian turned to Ivy.
*"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen."*
Ivy just smiled faintly, tying her hair back.
*"That wasn't even half of what I can do."*
Later that evening, the three of them gathered in the lounge, casually resting after the intense training. Adrian, still hyped from the afternoon spar, leaned forward with curiosity dancing in his eyes.
*"Hey, Ivy,"* he began, his voice light but filled with interest, *"you fight like a pro, but… can you handle a gun?"*
Ivy, reclining with a cold glass of water, raised a brow.
*"No,"* she said simply, *"I've never had to. I always preferred close-range combat and stealth ops. Guns get loud."*
Adrian blinked. *"Wait, so you've never fired one?"*
She shook her head. *"Not really my thing."*
A sly grin crept across Adrian's face as he turned toward his brother.
*"Then Rux, you should teach her."*
Lucian, who had been flipping through a file silently, glanced up sharply.
*"Not necessary,"* he replied coolly.
*"Come on,"* Adrian pushed. *"You're literally the best sharpshooter in the country. If Ivy can take you down in hand-to-hand, she should at least learn your specialty too. Right, Ivy?"*
Ivy looked between the brothers, expression unreadable. After a moment, she gave a faint shrug.
*"Fine. It's about time I learned."*
Lucian stared at her for a beat, then closed the file on his lap.
*"We start tomorrow morning."*
Adrian clapped his hands with a wide grin.
*"I'm calling it now—this is gonna be fun."*