Page 37 of Twisted Legacy

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Igi (I got it) is part of the shorthand we came up with years ago, for when we came into possession of certain things or information we didn’t want to discuss with other people around.

He gestures towards the door so I can go inside. Our interactions have been stilted lately. Even when I text him, something’s off about his responses. He used to argue with me, but now he’s treating me with kid gloves. I hate it.

I storm into the gym and walk right up to the ring where Tank’s sparring. He pauses and comes over to the rope to greet me. “Hey little girl.”

“Hey big girl.” I tease back, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders.

I don’t even know why I was so nervous about coming here. Tank doesn’t even blink at seeing my arm in a sling. He’s a fighter. He gets it. Bumps and bruises happen, and nobody here is gonna make a big deal about it. They’ll all probably just assume I got into a fight and took a beating. Which is true. We don’t bitch about it. We heal, deal, and move on.

He smiles down at me and says, “Now don’t be milking your time off because you’re afraid to admit you’re not ready to take me on.”

“Puleeze. I’m ready any time you are.”

“You think so? I got time now, little girl.”

My face splits into a smile. “Let’s go, big girl.” I go to remove my sling, but somebody grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me away from the ring. “What the fuck?” I hiss, twisting away from the hold.

Wolfe tells Tank, “Stop bating her.” And tells me to, “Leave that fucking sling on.”

“My arm feels fine and Tank has a good idea. I should move around. Start working out again.”

“You think you’re ready for that, huh?”

“Yu-p.” I pop the P because he hates when I do it.

“So if I call your par-” I glare at him, daring him to finish the word. “Guardians, they’ll say you’ve been talking to your doctor.”

“Yes. I’ve been talking to my doctor.” I go to step around him, but he grabs my neck, yanking me back again.

“The one for your head?”

Dammit.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. I already told you, if you want to train, you have to do the work.” He taps my forehead. “Up here. It would be irresponsible of me to let you work out here and put my other fighters at risk while you’re walking around with a short fuse.”

“My fuse has always been short.”

“That’s true.” Sasha says, chiming in. “I have a long fuse and can time my devastation out over years. Thea is the one you want for immediate and total destruction.”

He looks over at her and asks, “Who the hell are you?”

“Me? Who the hell are you? Or maybe a better question would be how much longer do you think I’m gonna let you just grip up on the back of my girl’s neck like that?”

“I’m Coach Wolfe. This is my gym, and Thea’s a lot like an unruly pup. Sometimes the only way to get her to heel is to grab hold of the scruff on the back of her neck. Isn’t that right, LaReaux?”

Sasha’s baton comes out of its holster. “Did you just call my girl a bitch?”

I shake my head. Long fuse my ass. “It’s fine Sasha. Wolfe would never call me that, because he knows I might not be ambidextrous, but I can still do damage to his favorite body parts without the use of my right hand.” I bat my eyes. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

His nose flares, and I smile sweetly up at him like as if I didn’t just wave a red cape at a bull.

He smirks at me and leans forward. “Tell me one real thing about how you’ve felt this week, and I’ll let you back into the gym.”

You can’t miss the tension in the room. The guys in the gym and LJ are used to Wolfe and I squaring off like this, but Sasha’s not and I really don’t want to turn this into a thing. “Forget it.”

“Nah, ah. No running, sweetness. Show me you’re woman enough to handle me. Tell me one thing, real.”

“I didn’t feel anything this week.”

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