Chapter 35 Chapter 35

Chapter 35 Chapter 35
Bailey’s POV

When I finished the rest of my breakfast, Benjamin motioned for me to stand and offered his hand.

“If you don’t mind, I’m tired of walking. We’ll save time if we teleport to the gym,” he said. I nodded. I was exhausted from this morning’s fiasco. If it were up to me I’d crawl back into bed and disappear under a blanket, but if I wanted to learn to control this thing, I had to endure it.

In a puff of smoke we were someplace else. The gym was spacious, its walls built from a thick, humming material. Magic thrummed through the room like a low, steady heartbeat.

“It’s potentium,” Benjamin said when he saw me staring. “We mix it into the materials we use to build our homes. It was extracted from a meteorite that fell here long ago. Once we learned to break it down with magic, we incorporated it into mixtures for protective walls. We used it here so training doesn’t wreck the place.”

Remarkable. My brain immediately ticked through applications for Earth. The gym itself had no treadmills or weights — just room. Enough room, apparently.

Ben shed his sweatshirt to a black sleeveless shirt and gray sweatpants and stretched. “So tell me, what do you know about the power so far?” he asked.

I blinked. The truth was small and wobbly. “Not much. I’ve only used it instinctively — energy balls, mostly. I figured out the trigger.”

“And what was the trigger?” he prompted.

I lowered my voice. “Anger.”

He considered that. “Then today we’ll begin with focus exercises.”

“Okay. What do we do first?” I asked.

He smiled and sat cross‑legged on the floor, like some calm monk. “We meditate.”

I wanted to laugh, but he was serious. I copied him, folded my legs, closed my eyes, and tried to quiet the noise. Benjamin’s voice guided me: “Exclude everything from the outside. Focus inside. Let whatever frustration you have go. Feel the power embrace you.”

Easy to say, impossible to do. Every thought tugged toward Nathaniel: the kiss, the way he’d taken what he’d wanted, the image from last night. The anger rose like boiling water. Kill. Kill. Kill. The word started to throb in my head. The power answered, spreading under my skin.

“BAILEY! Snap out of it!” Benjamin’s shout yanked me open. I was staring at the ceiling, sitting in lotus pose but floating a foot off the ground. Red and black heat waves flared from me. The room felt like an oven. Ben was breathing hard. I wasn’t supposed to hurt him.

The magic collapsed as suddenly as it had flared, and I slammed into the floor with a painful thud. Benjamin was at my side in an instant, checking me for broken bones. Nothing was broken, thank God.

“You lost focus,” he said. “You let your emotions take over. You need to control them first.”

He was right. I thought of Peter Pan — happy thoughts to fly — and tried to apply it in reverse: happy, steady thoughts to keep me rooted. We tried again. And again. And again. Five times, the room shaking a little less each time, until finally the last attempt ended in silence: no floating, no heat. I opened my eyes to Ben’s satisfied look.

“Excellent. Progress.” He stood. “Next: channeling the power to a target.”

He demonstrated, palms open. Little sparks gathered, then bloomed into palm-sized orbs that glowed and hummed. “The heart is the source,” he explained. “Focus it from your heart to your palms. When it’s the right size, release it — but keep your mind on the target.”

He threw his orbs at the far wall. They exploded in bright light and smoke. When the air cleared, the wall was unscathed. Potentium, I thought again. Earth needs this.

“Your turn,” he said.

My hands were empty, then tiny sparks, then nothing. I focused, harder. Frustration seeped in. Anger had worked faster last time — but Ben tapped my shoulder gently.

“Anger is never a good trigger. It activates, yes, but it also drags in the darkness. For now, concentrate on the basics.”

His calm steadied me. We fell into a quiet moment — until a voice cut through the gym like a blade.

“Now that, is a total waste of time, Commander.”

Nathaniel.

My stomach dropped to my toes. The word that had been pounding in my head screamed louder. The memories — last night, the kiss, Kara on top of him — crashed over me. I felt the black heart surge. This time, I funneled it into my palms and two large, black orbs formed in an instant.

“Bailey! No!” Benjamin’s voice was muffled as I launched both balls.

They streaked toward Nathaniel. He moved as if they were nothing and formed a shield with barely a motion. He smelled of cool disdain and cigarette smoke. He removed his trench coat and sleeve, settling into a sleeveless shirt, and stepped forward like he owned the center of the world.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” he drawled. The smugness in his voice turned my anger into a hot, focused flame.

“Bailey, please —” Ben began, but Nathaniel’s whisper wrapped the room in cold.

“Stay out of this, Benjamin.”

Ben fell back a fraction and bowed his head. Suddenly it felt like the two of us faced a duel. My breath caught. I could almost hear some ridiculous battle music in my skull.

“Hit me,” Nathaniel teased. “Come on, honey. Hit me with your best shot.”

My hands trembled. Tears blurred my vision; the muscles in my arms tightened. He baited me, poked all the raw places. “Did you enjoy the show last night? I was disappointed when you walked out. You should’ve stayed to the end.

He grinned, and something inside me snapped.

Black—or rather, everything-dark—balls roared from my palms toward him, faster and meaner than before. He dodged and deflected them easily. I kept throwing. They bounced off his shields like rain. My breaths came shallow. I moved closer while the attacks continued, each miss winding me tighter.

When I was within reach, I lunged to strike — and he caught my arm. He eased the energy ball into his palm and, with a flick, swung me around and pinned me to the floor. I hit the padded ground hard. He straddled me, pinning my wrists above my head, his legs locking me in place so I couldn’t move. The position felt humiliating and intimate all at once. I was panting and soaked from crying.

“I…hate you,” I sobbed.

Nathaniel leaned in until our noses almost touched. Up close, his breath was cool and smelled faintly of mint and something dark. For a bare second, something like guilt flickered across his face — then it was gone, replaced by that cold, deliciously cruel expression he wore when he meant to enjoy my misery.

“Good,” he said softly.

Before I could process anything else, Benjamin’s voice cut through the taut air, calm but urgent. “My lord — we have to cut this session short. We’re under attack.”

The word made the world tilt. Nathaniel’s jaw tightened; the gray in his eyes sharpened. He wordlessly released me and rose, still maintaining the smug smirk, but the shadow of alertness was there now. Whatever his games were with me, something else had intruded — and for the first time that morning, I felt something other than raw grief and rage: a small, cold spike of fear for what might come next.