Chapter 51

Chapter 51
Abigail's POV

The fourth training session. Nine days had passed since the first.

At dawn, the valley was shrouded in a thin layer of mist. I arrived half an hour early to warm up and stretch alone.

I could clearly feel the changes in my body—my movements were much more fluid than nine days ago, my muscles appearing taut and powerful in the morning light. After each training session, I would apply the healing salve Nicholas had given me to my bruises. That cooling sensation would inexplicably remind me of the warmth of his fingertips.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the upcoming training, trying to use physical exhaustion to dispel the fragments of those ambiguous dreams that kept surfacing in my mind.

I wondered what time he would arrive today.

I lowered my center of gravity into a lunge, slowly pressing down until my thigh muscles burned with pain. I switched to the other leg, my exhaled breath forming small white clouds in the cold morning air. Just then, I suddenly felt a gaze fall upon me.

I slowly straightened and turned around.

Nicholas stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable in the dim morning light. How long had he been standing there?

"Finished warming up?" His voice cut through the morning stillness.

"Yes." I straightened, trying to make my voice sound steady.

Without another word, he turned and walked deeper into the valley. I followed behind, deliberately keeping my eyes on the ground and his boots—looking at anything except the way his muscles worked beneath his training clothes, or the line of his neck above his collar.

We walked for several minutes before he stopped in front of a massive boulder. The stone came up to my waist, its surface rough, covered with moss and dried mud, appearing absurdly heavy in the mist-filled dawn.

"Push it to the top of the hill." Nicholas's voice was like iron striking stone. "Ten times. Up, then down."

I swallowed, placing my hands on the stone's surface. The cold, gritty texture made my palms tense instantly. I took a deep breath, mobilizing all my strength to push forward—the boulder didn't budge.

I gritted my teeth and applied more force, feeling the veins stand out on my forehead. The stone finally moved half a foot, then stopped dead.

"Brute force isn't the same as strength." Nicholas's voice came from behind me. "Lower your center of gravity, drive with your legs. Use your whole body's weight, not just your arms."

I adjusted my stance as instructed, dropping my body lower, planting my feet firmly as if rooting into the ground, and pushed again.

This time, the stone began to move, slowly and stubbornly rolling forward inch by inch.

My arms trembled uncontrollably, my leg muscles burning as if set aflame. Sweat streamed into my eyes, stinging my vision, but I refused to stop. In my mind, I saw the flames again—the pyre from my previous life, Evelyn's cold satisfaction, Matthew raising the torch. Memory became fuel, rage refined into pure determination.

One inch, then another. The stone climbed slowly upward.

Halfway up the slope, I stepped on loose gravel. My balance shattered in an instant, the stone's momentum reversed, dragging me downward.

I fell hard to the ground, my knee slamming viciously into the edge of the boulder with a sickening thud that turned my stomach.

Pain exploded from my knee like lightning, burning along the bone to my hip and rushing all the way to my ankle. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, tasting iron-like blood on my tongue. The pure shock brought hot tears surging to my eyes.

The stone was still rolling, gradually picking up speed, about to crush my leg or drag me tumbling down the slope with it—

A hand slammed down on the stone, forcing it to stop.

Through my tear-blurred vision, I looked up to see Nicholas crouching beside me, one hand spread flat against the side of the boulder, his entire arm trembling slightly from bearing the massive weight. His movement had been so fast it had almost become a blur.

Our eyes met.

I knelt in the dirt, blood quickly seeping through the fabric over my knee, my face flushed red from pain and humiliation. Nicholas's jaw was clenched tight, muscles jumping faintly in his cheek. His free hand had already begun reaching for my shoulder, but he jerked it back the instant he realized what he was doing.

His throat worked violently once, his face turning sharply to the side.

"Again," he said, this word sounding like they'd been ground through gravel.

I stared at his withdrawn hand, my heart crashing wildly in my chest. In that brief moment, I had clearly seen the flash of concern and restraint in his eyes.

I took a shaking breath, placed my hands on the stone again, and pushed myself upright.

The second attempt was agony. The third was worse. By the fourth, my palms were blistered and raw, blood and dirt mixing into one color. By the seventh, I could barely see—sweat and tears had blurred my vision, my entire being seeming to become one continuous silent scream.

Nicholas never spoke again. He stood a few yards away watching me, his face cold and hard as stone, yet I could truly feel his attention pressing on my skin like physical weight.

On the ninth push, my legs finally gave out halfway up the slope. I barely caught myself before falling, but only barely—my arms locked and trembling, my breathing becoming broken sobs I couldn't suppress at all.

"One more." I could barely hear my own voice, the words heavy in my throat. "Just one more."

I thought of the flames again, remembered Evelyn's triumphant smile, remembered Nicholas's fate in my previous life. Rage surged like a tide, intense and pure.

I thought of Nicholas in my dreams saying I belonged to him. And I wanted to be strong enough to deserve such a claim—even if it would forever remain only a dream.

I made a sound somewhere between a roar and a scream, throwing every last bit of remaining strength into one final push.

The stone finally crested the hill.

For a moment, I stood there swaying, hardly daring to believe I'd actually done it. Then my legs gave out completely, my body falling backward—

Strong arms caught me.

I crashed into Nicholas's chest, able to clearly feel his heartbeat and tense muscles. His breath was close, I was gasping for air, without even the strength to lift my hand, yet in this embrace I felt an unprecedented sense of safety and release.

Nicholas looked down at me, the expression on his face so complex I didn't even know where to begin reading it. He was silent for several heartbeats, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, unexpectedly gentle.

"Not bad."

Just those two words. But they landed on my heart like some kind of blessing, a gentle strike that cracked open a place deep inside that I'd been trying so hard to keep locked.