The Larson's: The Helen's Town Attack [BOOK #1]
The Larson's- a family line serving as the government's weapon for more than a century. A family skilled with combat, intelligence and leadership no normal civilian could match. Trained to be the most...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
• 𝙲 𝙰 𝙻 𝙻 𝙰 𝙷 𝙰 𝙽 𝙻 𝙰 𝚁 𝚂 𝙾 𝙽 •
A swing of an arm and another, Chris was receiving all of them with the boxing mitts on his hands. My leg kicked him on his sides in which he accepted without falling down. Droplets of sweat were trickling down my forehead during a long workout. It was already 11 o'clock at night and everyone else was asleep in their rooms. I usually don't do training without the other members, but now I think I need it. "I heard you scolded Marcus for training alone. Aren't you doing the same thing," my punches landed on the mitts. "I'm technically not on my own here, right? You're the witness during these times," I panted out as I swung another one at him. "Alright, whatever you say," he dodged my gloves. "You know, I rarely see you out of your uniform. I didn't expect you to be this built," the Chief chuckled at me. "Seriously? You've seen how we train here. You think I wouldn't get built after that shit?," I gave a half-smile and gave him a round-house kick. His body felt to the ground in a split second. "Callahan, I fucking told you not to do that!," Chris then pushed himself up. "Oops, sorry about that, Chief," strands of my hair fell down to my forehead. "The first time we have met you, father was always intrigued about your combat skills despite your physique," the man regained his balance and said.
"If he had seen you know, dad would've said that you're becoming much powerful than you already were," my knuckles hit the man's hands, once again. "Was I really strong when I first joined the Larson's? I'm pretty sure I wasn't and lacked the skills I needed to survive this job," I crossed my eyebrows and threw more punches at him. "I remember your father being brutal with me when it came to training. Bertram would even interfere just to stop that one time. On the other hand, Laurént also trained me here whenever we had the time," I reminisced those moments. To think that I'd actually survive this after ten years is mind-boggling. "Ambrose probably wanted that for you," he ducked another time and stepped back. "I'm not really complaining that they did those things for me. Without those times, I would've been dead by now," I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I beg to differ," Chris said and shrugged his shoulders. "Why so, Chief?," his disagreement made me stop from sparring. "Well, dad always compared me to you whenever I was training at the Police Academy with him. He told me that Ambrose chose someone that may become destructive if not given the right guidance," the police said as he dropped his stance.
The thought of his father saying that made me realize how strict the Larson's were with me when they took me in. I'm just glad that they did their best to guide me over those years, most especially when Laurent was the leader. "Stop denying that you aren't powerful, Callahan. For now, let's rest. We've been doing this for three hours now. I don't want you to overwork yourself," Chris then patted my back after removing the boxing mitts. He then helped me remove my gloves one by one and gave me a towel to wipe of my sweat. "How am I a tool for destruction?," I laughed a bit at the thought. I've always thought of myself as a pretty balanced person. "Remember the Peter Jarkins case?," he raised up the situation from a few months ago. "What about that time? I think that went pretty smoothly—," my sentence then got cut off by his, "Marcus told me everything about those times. I was actually concerned for once because of it. However, I guess those two are really keeping you on the ground". 'That fucking idiot really had to mention that?,' I thought to myself. "Another one is the—," I pushed my index finger above his lips and shushed him, "We don't talk about that case, Chris. Do you want me to fucking break your neck?," I cracked my neck a bit and glared at him. "I was just kidding, Callahan. I thought there wasn't an event worse than the Jarkins one, but your reaction proved otherwise. Go take a shower, I'll go to the guest room to clean up. Good night," he waved at me and chuckled.
