Page 25 of Hate Me

“What? Already?”

“Already? We’ve been going at it for two hours.”

We had? I’d been so immersed in it that time had just flown on by.

I took him in as he ran a hand through his black crew cut, then shook out his black tank that was sticking to his skin with sweat. His red shorts weren’t faring any better. He was double my age, so the fact that he was able to go so hard for so long was a hell of a thing. The guy was all bulk and incredibly defined muscle, a tank of a man, a lot like Caspian. And he was also a highly-accomplished hand-to-hand combatant. I mean, I’d been a competent fighter. I’d had to be in order to carry out our Jackals missions back in the day. But in the last eighteen months, the things he’d taught me had taken me to another level entirely. I was a dangerous fucker armed with all of that, if I needed to be. Which I didn’t. This was about maintaining my physical health and also the focus and discipline that these sessions with him gave me.

He walked around the edge of the mats then grabbed two water bottles from one of the benches. As I followed him over, he tossed one to me, then took a couple of sips of his own. “Everything okay?” he asked. “The intensity coming off you this session was a lot.”

I gulped down some of my water, realizing just how parched I was as soon as it hit my tongue. “Just some stuff I needed to work out of my system.”

“And, did you?”

“I think so. I feel better. Lighter again.”

For the most part.

It was still there, though, just under the surface.

“You should talk to King about it.”

“I will, yeah.” I had to. No more keeping things buried and all that.

He smiled. “Good.” He put his water bottle down and tossed me a towel, while he grabbed his own and dabbed off the sweat slicking his body.

I did the same, wiping off my white tank and black shorts, my face and neck.

“Nice moves today,” he said.

“Thanks. Gave you a run for your money, huh?”

“Almost. You’re getting close.”

“You arrogance knows no bounds, Luke,” Caspian’s voice came from the door to his massive home gym.

We both turned to see him leaning against the frame of one of the open double doors, his arms folded across his chest, looking out at us.

He looked out of place in his own gym currently decked out in a sleek black Armani suit, looking all sophisticated and ever the successful businessman that he was.

Luke chuckled. “Just calling it like it is, King.”

“Yes, well, there’s no denying your talents, my friend.”

Friend. That was an understatement when it came to their relationship. It was a whole lot closer to a father-son dynamic. Luke had even accidentally called him son a few times over the years. He’d also trained Cas in combat to an insane degree, wherein Cas had even surpassed his teacher in Luke. His strategic and tactical know-how also came from Luke’s teachings, him being ex-military and a hell of a leader during that line of work too. It had certainly served Cas well over the years. I mean, he’d always had a natural aptitude for it, a tactician’s mind, but Luke had refined that to another level.

All of that was coming into play more than ever too with the long-term goal Cas and his ally, Dante Mancini, were embarking on to decimate that fucker, Elijah Bane, who I’d found out two years back had been the architect of my dad’s murder and those of Caspian’s parents.

“Give me a moment with Bastian,” Cas told Luke. “Then I need you in my office for a second opinion on a joint OPLAN I’m configuring with Dante.”

“Sure,” Luke said, wrapping his towel around his shoulders, then taking his water bottle with him as he made his way out of the gym. He gave Caspian’s shoulder a squeeze, the two of them exchanging a smile before Luke walked out.

Cas pushed off the wall and made his way over to me as I slumped down on one of the benches.

“I know you saw Damien today.”

I started. “What? How?”

“It was me on the phone with him. I got word that he was right at the edge of his leash, so I called to remind him of the consequences should he break it.”

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