’Maybe I’m not as bad as they think.’
Confidence swelled in Alex’s chest as he parried another combination, his body moving with fluid precision.
Pavel’s attacks felt... manageable. Predictable, even.
He was handling this.
Pavel disengaged, circling slowly. His expression hadn’t changed... calm, patient, almost bored.
"Good," Pavel said quietly. "You can handle basics."
Then sothing shifted.
Pavel’s stance loosened. His shoulders dropped. His breathing changed... slower, deeper, more controlled.
And when he moved again, it was different.
The jab ca from the sa angle as before. Alex moved to slip it...
But it wasn’t a jab.
Pavel’s fist stopped mid-extension, converted into an elbow that clipped Alex’s cheek before he could adjust. Not hard. Just enough to sting.
’What the...’
A kick followed. Alex saw it coming, raised his guard...
But the kick was a feint. Pavel’s real attack ca from below... a sweep that caught Alex’s planted foot and sent him stumbling.
Alex recovered, but Pavel was already inside his guard.
Three quick strikes. Chest. Ribs. Solar plexus.
Each one precise. Each one landing before Alex could react.
He hadn’t seen any of them coming.
’How?’
Alex created distance, breathing harder now. Not from exertion... from confusion.
He’d read Pavel’s movents. He’d seen the attacks start. But what his eyes told him and what actually happened were two different things.
Pavel circled again, that sa calm expression on his face.
"You’re reading my shoulders," Pavel said. "My hips. The obvious tells."
He shrugged.
"So I lie with them."
He moved again... faster this ti.
A straight punch aid at Alex’s face. Alex shifted to parry...
But Pavel’s body told one story while his fists told another. The punch twisted into a palm strike that slipped past Alex’s guard. Then an elbow. Then a knee rising toward his midsection.
Alex blocked the knee, but the elbow had already tagged his temple.
His vision flickered.
’Shit.’
He backpedaled, trying to reset, but Pavel gave him no space. The younger man flowed forward like water... no wasted movent, no telegraphed intentions. Every strike erged from the previous one, a chain of attacks that seed to co from everywhere at once.
Alex blocked one. Took another. Missed a third entirely.
A hook caught his jaw... light, controlled, but enough to snap his head sideways.
Then Pavel stopped.
He stood two feet away, hands relaxed at his sides, not even breathing hard.
"You’re fast," Pavel said. "Strong. Your reflexes are better than anyone I’ve fought at your level."
He tilted his head.
"But you fight like soone who’s never had to be clever. You expect attacks to be honest. You wait for movents to finish before you react."
He stepped closer.
"Real fighters lie with their bodies, Mr. Hale. We show you one thing and give you another. We make you see openings that aren’t there. We bait reactions we’ve already prepared counters for."
Pavel’s eyes held no mockery... only the seriousness of a teacher delivering a hard truth.
Alex stood in the center of the ring, sweat cooling on his skin, pride stinging worse than any of the blows he’d taken.
Adrian had felt dangerous. Overwhelming, even.
But compared to this... compared to the precise, deceptive, utterly controlled violence Pavel had just demonstrated...
Adrian had been a child throwing tantrums.
And Alex had barely survived a child.
Viktor’s voice cut through the silence.
"Now you understand."
Alex turned to face him.
Viktor stood at the edge of the ring, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"Power without skill is a blunt instrunt," Viktor said. "It can break things. It can intimidate. But against soone who knows how to move, how to deceive, how to turn your strength against you..."
He let the sentence hang.
"You need both, Mr. Hale. The power you have. The skill you must earn."
Alex looked back at Pavel, who had returned to his relaxed stance... patient, waiting, ready to go again if asked.
Then he looked at the others. Damien. Dimitri. Andre.
Each of them watching. Each of them, he realized, capable of doing exactly what Pavel had just done. Maybe worse.
Alex rolled his shoulders. Settled back into stance.
"Again," he said.
Pavel smiled... small, approving.
"Good."
He moved.
***
Hours later.
Alex stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his jaw.
His body ached. His arms felt heavy. His legs burned.
But he was smiling.
Not because he’d won. He hadn’t. Pavel had put him down a dozen more tis, each defeat a lesson carved into his reflexes.
But the last exchange had been different.
He’d lasted longer. Read a feint before it landed. Blocked a combination that would have floored him an hour ago.
Small victories. But victories nonetheless.
Pavel extended a hand, pulling Alex to his feet.
"Better." Not praise. Assessnt. "You’re starting to see the lies."
"Still got hit," Alex muttered.
"Everyone gets hit. The goal is to get hit less."
Viktor approached, tossing a towel to Alex.
"Enough for today. You’ve absorbed more than I expected. Pushing further would be counterproductive."
Alex wiped his face. "When do we continue?"
"Tomorrow. And the day after." Viktor folded his arms. "I’ll prepare a structured program. Fundantals first. Footwork. Guard transitions. Reading intent. Then deception. Counters. Combinations."
A pause.
"Six months, and you’ll fight like a different man. A year, and opponents like Adrian won’t register as threats."
Alex smiled faintly.
A year?
Viktor didn’t know what he was capable of. None of them did.
With enough CP, Alex could acquire the skill itself... download it directly into his mind like installing software. The fundantals. The instincts. The muscle mory that took others decades to build.
Then he’d refine it through sparring. Polish the edges. Make it truly his.
What took others a year would take him weeks. Maybe less.
But he said none of that.
"Thank you, Viktor."
He turned toward the stairs.
"Mr. Hale."
Viktor’s voice stopped him.
Alex looked back. Sothing harder had entered Viktor’s expression.
"Before you go. There’s sothing you should know."
Alex waited.
"Your villa had a visitor this morning."
"A visitor. "
"One person. Professional-looking. Rang the bell. No one answered. Waited a few minutes, looked around, then left."
Viktor’s eyes narrowed.
"She ca from Villa Six."
Alex went still.
Villa Six.
The property Vivienne Vanderbilt had purchased few days ago.
"Did you get a look at her?" Alex asked.
"Middle-aged woman. Well-dressed. Carried herself like soone used to authority." Viktor paused. "Could have been staff. Could have been soone more important."
Alex’s mind raced.
Vivienne wasn’t just moving in next door. She was already reaching out. Testing. Probing.
Or maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe she wanted him to know she was watching.
"Keep monitoring," Alex said quietly. "Anyone from that villa cos near my property again, I want to know imdiately."
Viktor nodded. "Understood."
Alex climbed the stairs and stepped outside.
The afternoon air was cool against his skin.
Vivienne.
His lips curved into a cold smile.
So you’re making moves yourself. Good.
That made things simpler.
If she wanted to play this ga personally, he wouldn’t have to go hunting.
User Comments
0 comments from readers