A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 2)

Titus counters by moving his free arm around the back of my head, squeezing my neck within the crook of his elbow. It’s the start of a grappling move and I know once he takes me to the ground, it’s all over.

He bends my body so my head is level with his hip, and it twists my arm holding onto his so painfully I have to release. His other hand goes to the back of my leg, and I know he’s going to pick me up and slam me to the floor.

My mind races for any maneuver he’s taught me to escape this hold, but I come up with nothing. And then I remember something Duane had taught me when we first started training and we were talking purely practical tips to get away from an attacker.

There were the obvious ones like ‘knee a man in the nuts’ or ‘slam your fist across the bridge of his nose’.

But there was one other he taught me, and he said it was guaranteed to make someone release their hold.

With my right arm free and currently trying to pull his arm off me, I let him go and let it dive in between his legs. Not to the nuts because I don’t want to really hurt him, but rather to the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. I grab a chunk with just a forefinger and the side of my thumb, squeeze tight, and twist as hard as a can. Hairs rip loose, skin is abraded, and Titus screams like a little girl as he releases his hold on me.

“Goddamn it, Finley,” he growls as he bends over and presses a palm to the area I’d just pinched. “That hurt like a motherfucker.”

I’d never heard Titus use language like that, and I can’t help but smirk. I’m free, and I won that battle. “I could have gone for your jewels, so be happy I just gave you a little pinch.”

“Little pinch?” he growls, tenderly rubbing at the spot, but then offers me a nod of admiration. “Okay… I’ll give that to you. Well done.”

“Thank you,” I reply, dipping into a deep curtsy.

“Hand-to-hand is over,” he declares, actually limping slightly as he moves to his duffel bag. He roots around and as he does so, I do a quick glance around at the gym Carrick secured in just twenty-four hours. It’s fully equipped, and it was very clearly a working membership gym as it is stuffed with multiple pieces of the same type of equipment. I suspect Carrick just used his considerable wealth to get it. He probably walked in and made a cash offer the owner couldn’t refuse.

And now, it is all mine to train in.

Titus rises, having pulled the whip out of his duffel. Carrick said I could continue training with it, and I was more than ready. Before my birthday party, Titus and I worked a solid two weeks, six days a week, and at least two hours a day on my whip skills. It was something that practice absolutely made perfect. I not only had basic strikes down, but I was learning some flourishing moves like figure eights and helicopter whirls.

Titus presents it to me, the handle laying in his hand palm up. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

As I take the whip, my gaze lifts to meet his. “What’s that?”

Titus jerks his head to follow him, and he leads me through the main area to a back room that’s about thirty-foot-by-thirty-foot with a wooden floor. It’s completely empty except for four tall items along one wall, which are obscured by black coverings.

Giving me a mischievous grin, he moves that way and pulls the cloth off the first one. My jaw drops as I see it’s a life-sized and human-shaped target that resembles a crash-test dummy. They’re mounted on wooden posts with a cross base for stability.

Titus sweeps a hand. “Your enemies.”

“I can make actual strikes,” I murmur in appreciation. So far, I’ve only been learning how to whirl and crack my whip, which, at most, would keep someone at bay. I’ve never struck anything—except my shoulder and my calf—but now I need to learn timing and distance to make this a weapon of attack.

“Carrick bought a bunch more of these as he fully anticipates you’ll demolish them, but we’ll start with these four.”

A rush of elation and a tiny hint of fondness for Carrick makes its way through me, but I quickly push it aside. Grinning eagerly, I nod at the dummy closest to him. “Let’s get started.”

Laughing, Titus easily moves the first mounted dummy to the middle of the room and then enters a closet I hadn’t noticed. From within it, he pulls out large sandbags to put on the base to hold the entire target upright. I doubt I could even drag one of those bags across the floor by myself, but Titus grabs one in each hand, and he easily carries them as if they were no heavier than jugs of milk.