The thick silence of the cafeteria engulfed me. With nothing going on, the endless chatter of my thoughts picked up again. Mom. Mom. Mom. Since Friday night, she was al I could think about.
Was there something I could’ve done differently? Could I have prevented her from turning into a monster? If I hadn’t panicked after the attack, maybe I could’ve fended off the other daimon. I could’ve saved my mother from such a horrific fate.
Guilt turned the food in my stomach sour. I pushed myself from the table and headed outside just as one of the servants entered to close up for the night. A few kids moved across the quad, but no one I knew very wel .
I don’t know why I ended up in the main training room. It was past eight, but they never locked these rooms, although the weapons were secured after training sessions.
I stopped in front of one of the dummies used for knife practice and the occasional boxing match.
Restlessness itched through me as I stared at the lifelike figure. Tiny nicks and grooves marked the neck, chest, and abdomen. They were the areas where halfs were trained to strike: the solar plexus, heart, neck, and stomach.
I ran my fingers over the indentations. Covenant-issued blades were wickedly sharp, designed to cut through the daimon’s skin quickly and do maximum damage.
Eyeing the strike zones marked in red—places to hit or kick if I had to engage a daimon in hand-to-hand combat—I pul ed my hair up into a messy twist. Aiden had al owed me to practice with the dummies a few times, probably because he’d gotten tired of me kicking him.
The first punch I threw knocked the dummy back an inch, maybe two. Blah. The second and third blows jarred it back a couple of more inches, but stil did nothing for me. The swirling blur of emotions pressed up within me, demanding I cave into it. Give in. Take Lucian up on his offer. Never risk facing Mom. Let someone else deal.
I stepped back, resting my hands on my thighs.
My mother was a daimon. As a half-blood I was obligated to kil her. As her daughter I was obligated to…
what? That answer had eluded me al weekend. What was I supposed to do?
Kill her. Run from her. Save her somehow.
A frustrated shriek escaped me as I swung my leg around and connected with the center of the dummy. It swung back a foot or two, and when it came rushing back at me, I attacked—swinging, punching, and kicking. My anger and disbelief grew with each explosion.
This wasn’t fair. None of this was.
Sweat poured off me, dampening my shirt until it clung to my skin and stray hairs stuck to the back of my neck. I couldn’t stop. The violence poured out of me, becoming a physical thing. I could taste the anger in the back of my throat—thick like bile and heavy. I tuned into it. I became it.
The rage flowed through me and into my movements until my kicks and jabs became so precise that, if the dummy had been a real person, she’d be dead. Only then was I satisfied. I stumbled back, wiping my hand over my forehead and turned around.
Aiden stood in the doorway.
He came forward, stopping in the center of the room and taking the same position he normal y did during our training sessions. He wore jeans, something I rarely saw him in.
Aiden didn’t say anything as he watched me. I didn’t know what he was thinking or why he was there. I didn’t care. Fury stil boiled within me. Somehow I imagined it was what being a daimon must feel like, like some kind of unseen force control ed my every move.
Out of control—I was out of control now. Without saying a word, I crossed the distance between us. A wary look flickered across his eyes.
There was no thought behind this, just overwhelming anger and raw hurt. I cocked back my arm and punched him right on the side of his jaw. Fierce pain exploded across my knuckles.
“Dammit!” I bent, bringing my hand back to my chest. I didn’t think it would hurt that much. Even worse was the fact I’d barely made an impact on him.
He turned back to me as if I hadn’t just punched him in the face and frowned. “Did that make you feel better?
Change anything for you?”
I straightened. “No! I’d like to do it again.”
“You wanna fight?” He stepped to the side, tipping his head down at me. “Then fight me.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I launched myself at him.
He blocked the first jab, but my anger made me quicker than he’d realized. The broad side of my arm slipped past his blocks, cutting him across the chest. It didn’t faze him—
not one freaking bit. But the pleasure spiked inside me, propel ing me forward. Burning with rage and another near feral emotion, I fought harder and better than I ever had in practice.
We circled each other, exchanging blows. Aiden didn’t go al out on me, and it only pissed me off. I attacked harder, moving him backwards across the mats. His eyes flared a dangerous silver as he caught my fist inches from connecting with his nose. Bad form to aim above the chest, but screw it.
“That’s enough.” Aiden pushed me back.
But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I went to use one of the offensive moves he’d taught me days ago.
Aiden moved so he caught me midflight, bringing me down on the mat. Once he had me down he rocked back on his heels.
“I know you’re angry.” He wasn’t even out of breath. I, on the other hand, was gasping for air. “I know you’re confused and hurt. What you’re feeling is unimaginable.”
My chest rose and fel rapidly. I started to sit up, but he pushed me down with one hand. “Yes, I’m angry!”
“You have every right to be.”
“You should’ve told me!” The burning in my eyes increased. “Someone should’ve told me! If not Marcus, then you should have.”
He turned his head away. “You’re right.”