Chapter 54: Chapter Fifty Three

Eros

After an intense hour of training, Athena collapsed onto the mat, panting heavily. I grabbed a water bottle and handed it to her before settling beside her.

"You're different when you train," she said, taking a sip and glancing at me. "Tougher."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "My uncle trained me that way. He always said softness could get you killed."

She paused, her expression shifting slightly, as though she sensed something deeper behind my words. "Have you ever… frozen?"

I fell silent for a moment, exhaling as I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Yeah. Once." I finally replied.

Athena didn’t say anything, just waited—aware that what I was about to share wasn’t easy for me.

"I was fourteen," I began slowly. "There was a break-in—not at Villa Isadora, but one of our vacation homes in Mexico. We have properties all over, and that year, we decided to travel. My father told me to hide… but I heard everything—the struggle, the gunshot. And I didn’t move. I just froze." I let out a breath. "My father survived, but after that day, I swore I’d never freeze again."

Athena stared at me quietly, perhaps seeing for the first time that beneath my calm, composed exterior, there were shadows—old fears I’d learned to turn into strength.

"You didn’t freeze," she said softly. "You were just a kid."

"Maybe," I replied, meeting her gaze with a firm yet gentle voice. "But I never want you to feel that kind of helplessness. That’s why I’m teaching you."

She looked down at her hands, thoughtful. Then, after a moment, she nodded and lifted her gaze, flashing me a bright, determined smile.

"Okay. Let’s keep going," she said.

"That’s the spirit." I gave her a light tap on the back.

Over the next few weeks, Athena picked up the basics of karate, judo, and taekwondo. She was an obedient student—quick, determined, and focused. And somewhere along the way, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed myself this much.

Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, casting a warm golden glow across the polished wooden floor. Athena adjusted her stance, sweat trickling down her temple as she faced me again.

"Okay, one more round?" she asked, breathless but eager.

I raised a brow. "You’re pushing hard today," I said with a grin, genuinely impressed.

"I have to. You said I still telegraph my moves too much." She reminded me.

I stepped closer, nodding in approval. "And you're improving. Much faster than I expected." I gave her a slight smirk. "Who knows? Keep this up, and maybe one of these days, you’ll even hear me say, ‘I’m proud of you'."

She grinned. "Let’s aim for that, then."

I circled her slowly, watching her posture. "Remember—don’t just react. Anticipate. Trust your instincts."

"Easy for you to say," she replied, breathless. "You’ve been doing this since you were fourteen."

"Actually, my father had been pushing for it since I was six," I said, catching my breath. "Both he and Uncle Eli started training as kids. But back then, I was too lazy—more interested in watching SpongeBob than learning how to throw a punch. It wasn’t until that incident three years ago that I finally took my uncle up on his offer."

"That explains a lot," Athena muttered.

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Like what?"

"The precision. The intensity. And how you barely even flinch when I try to hit you," she replied.

"That last one’s just a reflex," I said, chuckling. "Though… I’ll admit—you almost got me yesterday."

"That was intentional," she said with a smug grin. "I was hoping to wipe that cocky look off your face."

We both laughed, the tension of the day melting away. I stepped back and handed her a towel.

"Take five. We’ll go over takedown drills after," I told her.

"Thanks. I didn’t expect to enjoy this so much," she said, accepting the towel and dabbing the sweat from her face.

"It suits you. You’re more disciplined than you give yourself credit for." I told her.

"I didn’t think I could be," she said softly, then let out a small chuckle.

A quiet moment settled between us—light laughter fading into thoughtful silence. With each passing day, Athena opened up a little more, piece by piece. The layers she kept hidden began to peel away.

"I used to feel like I was always in survival mode," she said, her voice almost a whisper, distant. "Never had time to breathe… let alone fight back."

"How long were you in the system?" I asked softly.

"About a year, give or take. Just one foster home after the next. A few were decent, others not so much… and some were worse than I care to remember." She replied casually.

"I’m sorry," I said, though I wasn’t even sure why I was apologizing—it just felt like the only thing to say.

"Don’t be. It taught me things. How to read people. How to stay quiet when it mattered. How to disappear."

"But it also meant you never really had the chance to be yourself," I said quietly.

"I’m still figuring out who that even is," she replied with a half-shrug.

I studied her, something flickering behind my eyes before I spoke, my tone low and honest.

"You’re not the only one who learned how to disappear."

She tilted her head slightly. "What do you mean?"

"People assume I’m just reserved or cold," I said. "But really… I’ve built walls so high, I barely know what’s on the other side anymore."

"Why?" she asked softly, her brows drawing together.

It was strange. I had never spoken about this—not to Leonardo, not even to the therapists he pushed me toward over the years. Yet with Athena, the words came easier. Maybe because she was opening up too. Maybe because… I trusted her.

I sat down at the edge of the mat, propping my knees up and resting my arms on them. I patted the space beside me.

"I lost my mother and sister when I was twelve," I began. "It was sudden… and surreal. For three months after the funeral, I kept waiting for them to come back. I kept telling myself they were just away… that any day now, they'd walk through the door again. But they never did."

Athena slowly sat beside me. "So you shut down."

"Completely," I nodded. "I kept everyone at a distance. It was easier… safer. Being a lone wolf."

She turned her head slightly, her smile soft and knowing. "But you didn’t do that with me. You didn't push me away."

I glanced at her, my voice low. “You didn’t force your way in. You just… showed up. You listened. You stood your ground—literally. And you didn’t let me get away with my crap.” I said.

Athena chuckled softly. “I didn’t expect you to be this human underneath all that brooding,” she teased.

“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered.

“Too late,” she said with a grin. “I already am.”

We sat in a comfortable silence, the atmosphere between us softer now, less guarded.

Then Athena spoke quietly. “I lost my mother and sister too. I think… James killed them.”

I didn’t say anything right away—there was nothing I could offer that wouldn’t sound heavier than what she’d just shared. Instead, I said gently, “Maybe that’s why we understand each other.”

“Maybe,” she said with a nod. She exhaled deeply, then again, like the weight of her memories was pressing down on her chest.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” she murmured. “Learning to fight has made me feel stronger… safer. But it’s these conversations that make me feel truly seen.”

“Fighting gives you power over your body,” I replied. “But opening up—that’s strength of the mind. That’s what brings real peace. Honestly… I feel lighter now.”

“You sound like a philosopher now,” she teased.

“A very reluctant one,” I said with a small wince.

She laughed gently. “Still… I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“So am I,” I said, meaning every word.

A quiet pause lingered before I stood and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s see if today’s the day you finally manage to flip me.”

She took my hand and let me pull her up. “Oh, I will. Just wait.”

As we returned to our positions, our laughter echoed softly through the space. Neither of us realized just how much had shifted—how closer we’d become in the quiet moments between punches and confessions.