Sera’s pov:
The training room felt like a different world; cold, sterile, and smelling of gun oil and old adrenaline. It was a place for survival, not for soft words.
Damien was a few feet away, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the powerful and scarred lines of his forearms. He looked relaxed, but I knew better. He was always on guard, always measuring the room. When his eyes met mine, I felt a familiar heat crawl up my neck.
"This isn't about turning you into a killer, Sera," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It’s about making sure nobody can use your ignorance against you."
I nodded, my hands feeling small and clumsy around the weight of the handgun.
"Lift your arms," he commanded softly.
I tried to mimic the stance I’d seen in movies, but I felt stiff and out of place. Before I cou
