Gabriel's POV
TCA wasn’t new to me. I had trained here for years, stepping into the ring whenever I needed an outlet. Back then, it was about control, about reminding myself that power wasn’t just about wealth or influence, it was about knowing I could end a fight before it even started.
But now, it wasn’t about control.
It was about survival.
I adjusted my stance, muscles coiled with tension as Cole, my personal trainer, circled me. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, assessing, calculating. There was no sympathy in his eyes, no wasted words. Just the demand for perfection.
"You’re too slow," he said flatly. "Again."
TCA wasn’t a regular gym. It was where professionals trained; fighters, bodyguards, men who understood that losing wasn’t an option.
There were no influencers shadowboxing
