Ruthless Secrets (Elites of Macedon High 2)

Chapter Eighteen

Alex

Seeing as Lev has been gone a month, I decided to jump back into my defense training. I need to be able to hold my own now more than ever, especially when the people who say they’re going to protect me get smashed like flies.

God, if they can’t do it, then who can? I think as I slide the boxing gloves over my wrapped hands. I tighten the laces with my teeth and approach the punching bag in the corner of the room. Even more reason for me to keep in shape.

When Soren heard about me doing kickboxing, he suggested we do a match today to stay sharp. We can discuss business while making sure the two of us are good on our toes. Though I can’t imagine what I could learn from Soren when I can predict his moves. He’s a player and a heartbreaker—I can see what he’s going to do from a mile away.

I punch the bag a few times. Well, that was before. After a few more punches, I step back, gulping down air. He took care of me two weeks ago, no questions asked. No returned favors. He just…did it.

I stare at the punching bag like it’s about to attack me. Imagining my father’s murderer—the same one who likely stabbed my Lev to death—is difficult. I don’t have a face or a body. I just have an idea.

But an idea is all I need to get started.

After a few deep breaths, I hop toward the punching bag with a burst of speed, landing punch after punch. Kidney, rib, hip, thigh—I focus on all the areas that could incapacitate a person, making sure to punch as Coach Neill had taught me. She’s not here today, but I can hear her speaking in the back of my mind, instructing me on the appropriate stance that will produce the best packed punch.

The thing about fighting is it’s less about strength and more about creating opportunities. I’m a petite girl and I don’t harbor a lot of power in my arms, but if I can slam a punch in the right spot, I can tip the scales in my favor. The same can be said of wielding a gun. Though I’d prefer not to shoot someone, I don’t have an issue with making my mark.

Killing that hit man put a fire in my belly. It showed me exactly what I could do. And it showed Demetra who I truly am: the daughter of a ruthless Moretti. Whoever sent that hit man, whether it was Gilbert or not, should understand that I’m not someone who can be fucked with. Maybe I can be harmed or injured, but I can’t be stopped.

I won’t be stopped.

While working on my fighting technique, I review what I read about Alexander the Great. It’s rumored that he and Hephaestion were lovers—and that he witnessed Hephaestion’s death before being able to profess his love. Tears well in my eyes as I flail at the punching bag, clenching my teeth together.

It’s too close to home how much I relate to Alexander the Great. His life, his accomplishments, and his goals are all reminiscent of mine. Truly, this war exploding in the underbelly of Macedon is much the same as that which occurred at Troy.

But will this be my fall? Or my rise to power?

I fall to the ground and bury my face into the boxing gloves. I don’t care if the material gets ruined. I only care about trying to recover from the death of my greatest love. Nothing could possibly ease the pain, not even getting revenge. I know that for a fact and yet I’m willing to die trying.

My sobs shift to intentional gasps for air, resolution infecting my features. Maybe I can’t avenge my father or Lev like I want, but I can sure as hell make the fuckers responsible pay for every drop of blood spilled. I’ll paint the town with the error of their ways and show everyone that I’m one Moretti who should never be trifled with.

Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

By the time I peel myself off the gym floor, my eyes are dry and my cold shield is back in place. Soren saunters in through the double doors with his backpack slung casually over his shoulder, sporting his usual Hollywood grin.

“Ms. Alex,” he greets. He pauses for a second, eyes slithering to the extra short shorts I’m wearing for my workout. “Looking good today.”

“And you.”

His smile wavers slightly. “Kitty isn’t biting today?”

“Why would I?”

“I guess I expect it at this point.”

I smirk. “Yeah, well, gotta keep everyone on their toes, right?”

He nods. “That’s right, sugar.”

“I’m going to change.” I pause for a second, waiting for his signature playboy line to come, but it never does. “Surprised you didn’t offer.”

He winks. “Something, something, toes.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

After disappearing to the locker room, I press my hand to my heart, realizing how fast it’s beating. Being around Soren has always been mildly better than the others, but I never expected to truly enjoy his company, especially with the proposition I’m about to make. I was vague about it in my text, but I know he’s the right man for the job.