Page 32 of Seeking Shadows

But I can’t move. Can’t bring myself to tear myself from him, because for a moment, it feels like he’s the only thing keeping me from shattering into pieces.

His heartbeat is steady against mine, his warmth seeping into my skin, and I realize, with a jolt, that this… this is the closest I’ve ever been to him. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s terrifying, this connection between us. It’s like he’s touching the parts of me I’ve kept hidden, the parts that nobody else gets to see.

And maybe that’s what scares me the most—that he might understand me in ways I don’t even understand myself.

This man—he thinks I killed his friend.

I never told him I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger

Because I did kill him.

Because it was my fault we were even in that situation.

Because I’m stupid. And everyone around me is going to get hurt just by being near me. Just because I can’t function at my full potential without being broken.

And that thought makes the tears come.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zane says, his voice calm.

“Not if you die because you refuse to leave.”

“Wherever you go, I go, Mia. I’m already exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

CHAPTER 7

ZANE

I’m getting myass kicked.

It’s official, I’m really grateful to be on the side of the people Mia doesn’t consider killing.

My hand’s aching like a bitch from the punch I threw, but it was worth it. No one touches my wife.

Even though I’m paying for it now.

We’ve been at this for days now, and my progress feels like it's stuck in neutral. Every punch I throw, every move I try to make, it’s like I’m in a constant loop of failure.

My muscles ache from the strain, and the bruises are starting to pile up, but the worst part? It feels like I'm not getting any better. Mia's quick—so damn quick—and no matter how many times she takes me down, I can’t seem to figure out the rhythm.

I throw a half-hearted jab, and Mia sidesteps effortlessly, her smirk as sharp as ever. She’s been relentless, and maybe that’s part of the problem.

She’s already been through hell, learned to fight like it’s second nature, and I’m just... fumbling through it all.

Each time I get up, it feels like I’m pushing against a wall that’s not going to budge. I’m trying—really trying—but it’s hard not to feel like I’m just not cut out for this. I know I need to be better for her, for us, but damn it, this isn’t easy. Especially when I look at her—how she moves, how she fights like someone who’s had to claw her way through hell just to breathe. Someone must’ve taught her that. Or maybe no one did, and she figured it out alone. Either way, she makes surviving look effortless. And here I am, struggling just to stay upright.

My body is exhausted, and every move feels like I’m one step behind.

The thump of my body hitting the grass echoes for the third time in five minutes. I just lay there, staring at the blue sky above me, trying to steady my breathing.

Maybe this is where I should stay.

The clouds look like little pigs today. Weird, right? But honestly, it’s worse than the last time I stared at the sky. Back then, I was looking at clouds to figure out which ones looked like dragons or castles, not because I just got my ass handed to me by a girl half my size with the energy of a freaking superpowered squirrel on espresso.

"Zane," I hear her voice cut through the fog of my pain, and I look up, squinting as she looms over me, hands on her hips. “This is ridiculous. You need to take it seriously.”

“Seriously?” I groan, sitting up, my chest heaving. "You're the one taking it super easy."

"Me?" She snorts, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want me to train you like I was trained?"

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