Page 38 of I Am Lioness

I want to say it was a mere five minutes that passed before a tall, older man with a shockingly white coat came stalking down the hallway.

“Miss Perry,” he said, approaching us with caution, a grim expression worrying his grayed eyebrows.

No.

Hazel lifted her head, observing the good doctor with red-rimmed eyes.

“I wish I were here under different circumstances, but unfortunately, Mr. Gutierrez did not make it. We tried everything in our power to resuscitate him. His heart just wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry.”

All eyes flew to the woman sitting in my grasp. She blinked, then blinked again, her mouth popping open as if she were about to say something. But what came out instead combined with what I witnessed was an image I’d likely never forget in my lifetime.

She threw her head back and howled in despair as fresh tears spilled over, running down her face in a heavy stream.

The next morning went by in a blur. Hazel was adamant on getting to the gym early, all but begging me to go with her, and I was in no position to deny her.

With the impending funeral, she was anxious for physical relief and a few hours of training and sparring it off would likely do her good. It would also keep her mind where it needed to be—focused on the upcoming fights. That's how Bernie would have wanted it and I was determined to see it through even if I had to fight Jason every step of the way.

He still wasn't too keen on me being here, so when Hazel made it clear it would be just her and I heading out for the day, the bastard threw a fucking hissy fit and I almost punched him until his teeth were loose.

After two hours of training with minimal breaks as per request, Hazel wanted to hop into the ring. It had been unoccupied since we arrived, and by the looks of it, no one dared to a step foot in there knowing Lioness was in the building. With no willing sparring partners in sight, I agreed and threw on a pair of padded mitts.

“Really? You're gonna put on the mitts?” She snapped, flexing and releasing her fingers around the pink tape I'd wrapped her hands with.

Here we go again.

Her mood swings had been outrageous since we arrived. She could go from quiet kitten to feral beastin seconds. Bouts of silence were expected when she was fully concentrated but the sudden outburst caught me off guard every single time.

Any little thing that went wrong set her off in an extreme, the worst by far being when she had reached her limit and was unable to push the weights with her legs any longer. After kicking the steel plate with all her might, she threw herself back into the seat several times with alarming force before I was able to break through.

To make matters worse, she seemed intent to push me away whenever I tried to bring her back. The words she spoke had to power to burn but I brushed them off because I knew she wasn't herself. This woman was not Hazel Perry.MyHazel was lost somewhere within the tidal wave of raging emotions that were swallowing her whole with every minute that passed. The only thing I could do was be there for her and continue to help when necessary.

We climbed into the ring and Hazel immediately came out swinging, throwing her fists against my hands with such speed and force, they flung backwards no matter how much resistance I put up.

“Easy there, Tiger.” I chuckled, bracing myself for the next blow.

For a small woman, she had the power to shake me to my core, and in more ways than one. Hazel’s eyes narrowed as she brought a leg up in a swift kick, grunting when I pushed her off and bounced her back a few steps. That feral little snarl I’d seen that first night curled her lip.

“Correction, it’s Lioness.” She roared, surging forward and shooting a fist toward me with lithe speed.

I dodged and came back up behind her, covering behind the safety of my arms because, damn, she was fast. Agile. Precise.

For the next thirty minutes we went around the ring, her jabbing and me ducking or bouncing her off. She was becoming more frustrated with each strike.

“Take the mitts off and fight me, Knox.” She finally gritted out, dropping her arms to her sides.

What?

I grinned. “Not a chance, baby. Just focus on the mitts and pretend I'm Panterra.”

“I'm tired of hitting the damn mitts. Take them off and fight me.”

“Not happening, beautiful. C’mon, focus.”

She started toward me and took me by surprise—again—by pulling one of my hands into her grasp and peeling the Velcro off the mitt. She threw it to the mat and then ripped off the other, tossing it beside its partner.

“Come on, fight me.” She shoved at my chest. “You wanted to spar in Cali, right?”

I shook my head, standing my ground. On an average day I would've agreed, but today was not an average day in the slightest. Bernie’s sudden death had flipped a switch inside of Hazel that made her a ticking time bomb, and right now she was seconds away from exploding.

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