Chapter 20 Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Chapter 20

Myla’s POV

I froze.

Everything in me just—stopped.

Kendrick was standing right in front of me with his presence filling the space like it always did.

My heart slammed hard against my ribs.

That was too fast. Too loud.

Think, Myla.

“What,” he said calmly with his eyes fixed on mine, “are you doing here?”

My mouth opened, then closed.

Nothing came out.

The files in my hand suddenly felt ten times heavier.

“I asked you a question,” he continued, his tone still even. “What were you looking for?”

“I—” I started, then stopped again.

Damn it.

Why couldn’t I just say something? Anything?

His gaze dropped briefly to the papers in my hand.

Then back to my face.

“And why,” he added, quieter now, “are you holding that?”

My grip tightened instinctively.

“I wasn’t—” I tried again, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.

He didn’t interrupt, didn’t raise his voice. Just wait.

“I…” I exhaled sharply, my chest tightening. “I came to—”

“For your friend,” he said.

The words cut through mine cleanly and I stopped.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “You came to remove his punishment,” Kendrick continued. “By taking what isn’t yours.”

I didn’t deny it. I couldn’t. He was right.

My fingers curled slightly around the files.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” I said finally, my voice quieter now but steady.

Kendrick’s expression didn’t change. “No?” He asked.

“He stepped in,” I said. “That’s it. He reacted. He didn’t start anything.”

“And that excuses breaking protocol?” Kendrick asked.

“That excuses fairness,” I shot back.

A pause. Then—

“There is no fairness here,” he said.

My jaw tightened. “Then what is there?”

“Control,” he replied simply.

I let out a short breath. “Right. Because this—” I lifted the files slightly. “—is control?”

“It is structure,” he corrected.

“It’s just a damn punishment.”

“It’s part of the consequence,” he replied smugly.

“For what?” I snapped. “For helping someone?”

“For losing control,” he said, his tone sharpening slightly now. “Something you seem to be struggling with as well.”

That hit. But I didn’t back down.

“So what?” I challenged. “You’re just going to punish everyone the same way and call it balance?”

“I’m going to enforce what keeps people alive,” he replied.

Silence fell again.

Then he stepped closer. “If you wanted to settle this,” Kendrick said, “you have come to me.”

I frowned. “What?”

“There are easier ways,” he added.

And I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Like what?”

His gaze held mine. “Earn it.”

Something in my chest tightened. “What does that mean?” I asked.

A pause. Then—

“I challenge you to a fight,” he said and the words dropped between us heavily.

I blinked. “What?”

“A controlled match,” he said. “You win—your friend walks clean.”

My heart skipped a beat“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“You take the punishment,” he replied.

My stomach dropped slightly. “That’s not fair,” I said immediately.

“It’s more than you had a minute ago.”

I stared at him.

A fight? Against him?

“That’s not even a fight,” I said. “That’s you deciding the outcome before it starts.”

“Then don’t take it.”

My jaw tightened.

He tilted his head slightly. “Or,” he added, “we can skip all this and proceed with disciplinary action. First week. Not a good look.”

I swallowed hard as Blake’s words flickered in my mind.

You’re not ready.

And then—

The files.

The reports.

The things I had seen.

A chill ran through me and I exhaled slowly. Then lifted my chin. “Fine,” I said.

Kendrick didn’t react much, he just nodded once.

“Good,” he said, then led me to the room where we'd stay.

The room was bigger than I expected. Wide, open, and with barely anything inside.

The door shut behind us with a quiet click, and the sound echoed more than it should have.

I stepped forward slowly with my pulse still spiking

Kendrick moved to the center of the room, turning to face me. Calm and composed, like this was just another routine.

I hated that.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, and I clenched my fists slightly.

Then took a breath and moved.

I went in fast—faster than I had during training, aiming straight for him, trying to catch him off guard.

He didn’t even flinch.

My punch came and he blocked it easily. Like it was nothing.

I tried again from a different angle, moving faster now

But it only got the same result.

“Too direct,” he said calmly as he redirected my hand away.

I gritted my teeth and stepped back, circling slightly before lunging again.

This time with a kick that he blocked effortlessly, then shrugged me back.

I stumbled back slightly, catching myself before falling.

“Too predictable," he added, and I remembered Blake's words

“I’m not here for commentary,” I snapped, moving again.

He sidestepped, letting my momentum carry me forward before stopping me with a light shove.

Just enough to remind me he could do more. A lot more.

“Then stop giving me reasons to talk,” he replied.

I exhaled sharply and came at him again, faster this time, pushing harder, forcing my body to move quicker, sharper.

Punch.

Kick.

Turn.

Jump.

Everything I had. Everything I could think of all at once.

And still, he handled them all effortlessly.

“Your balance is off,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“You’re overcommitting.”

“I said shut up!” I snapped and swung again.

But missed wildly.

He stepped in and shoved me back lightly and I stumbled but caught myself in time.

Again.

Gawd, this was so frustrating.

“You rely too much on momentum,” he continued.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I snapped.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m teaching you.”

“I didn’t ask for a lesson!”

“Then stop acting like a beginner,” he smirked and that hit something.

I moved again—faster, more aggressive now, pushing past the pattern he was trying to force on me.

He blocked.

Again. And again. And again.

Every move I made either got stopped, controlled or dismissed.

“You’re angry,” he said.

“No shit.”

“And it’s making you sloppy,” he continued.

“I don’t care!”

“That’s the problem.”

I lunged again, and this time he grabbed my arm mid-motion, twisting slightly and pushing me back harder than before.

I stumbled back with my breath catching.

He could have ended this there. But he didn't.

“You think anger makes you stronger,” he said and I straightened, chest rising.

“It doesn’t.”

“Then what does?” I shot back.

“Control.”

I laughed bitterly. “You really love that word.”

“Because it keeps you alive.”

“Feels more like it keeps people in line.”

“Same thing.”

I shook my head as my blood burned hotter now.

“No,” I said. “It’s not.”

He studied me for a moment.

Then, he spoke. “Then prove it.”

Something in my chest snapped tighter and I moved again, faster.

Harder.

And this time, I didn’t think, didn’t plan. Just reacted.

He blocked everything and pushed me back.

Again. And again. And again.

Every time I got close, he shut it down.

Every time I tried to break through, he redirected me.

“You’re not ready,” he said, and the words hit.

Familiar. Too familiar.

My jaw tightened. “Don’t say that.”

“Then stop proving it.”

“I said don’t say that!”

I charged again—

And he stopped me instantly, pushing me back with more force this time.

I stumbled harder, barely keeping my footing.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice quieter now, sharper. “All that effort, no direction.”

I clenched my fists.

“Still trying to prove something you don’t even understand,” he continued.

“Shut up.”

“Still reaching for things you can’t control.”

“I said shut up!”

“Still pretending you belong
in a world you don’t even know how to survive in.”

That did it. Something inside me snapped clean.

My vision blurred slightly as my chest tightened.

I didn't feel it coming, but as I moved towards him, I felt something surging through me.

And as I threw a fist at him, it came bursting out, catching Kendrick off guard.