Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 42 : Love, Lost}

"You're getting faster," Jahni chuckled, his collar ringed with sweat. Their fight had lasted longer this time, and Vincent wasn't quite sure why. It didn't matter. He was on top of his game. Jahni swung, Vincent ducked, and straight into his stomach he sent a punch. His fist bashed hard against Jahni's muscular mids. It ached, but Vincent wasn't done. Jahni threw another, and he skirted to the side, spinning on his heel and sending the his foot smashing into a wall of hard abdominals.

"Good," Jahni said calmly, as if he hadn't just taken such a vital hit. "Focus all of your strength into one impact point."

Vinny nodded, taking a step back as the spar began again. Jahni approached, broad and monstrous, like a panther taking back its domain. For every step he advanced, Vincent retreated another—though not to give up or recoil. He was biding time, waiting for the right moment. For that one sweet second where his instincts took hold of him—where adrenalin poisoned his veins, and he felt high. High enough to take on an opponent like Jahni.

And then that moment came. Jahni lurched forward, and Vincent bounced back on the balls of his feet. He clenched his fist and threw forward, but his hit was deflected by Jahni's massive forearm. Suddenly Jahni swung, striking Vincent's square in the stomach. His insides were writhing instantly, his body crumpling over. That was it for him. Match over.

"Here." Jahni tossed a towel to the boy. "You're improving. Do not be disheartened."

"Improving?" Vincent choked, his stomach still leaping painfully from the punch. "You keep saying that, but I never get better."

"That is the point." Jahni grinned, a rare sight to see. For some reason, it seemed that he only really showed much emotion during a fight. It was like he lived for beating the life out of Vincent. Still, his expression softened into a smile, and he spoke in a quiet, guarded grumble, "I suppose I should let you in on the secret."

Vincent looked to him inquisitively, taking a seat and dabbing the sweat from his neck. He was curious, but something was unsettling about the way Jahni spoke. Like the world was about to shift beneath his feet.

"I have harnessed control over my power for many years now. I can use it without much effort, and it has become a self-discipline for me," Jahni explained.

"What are you saying?" Vincent exhaled, desperate to get out of the place and into some fresh air.

"I have lived for years with a surplus of weight on my shoulders. I only remove that weight when I find it necessary. In turn, it makes me faster. More agile. This is why you feel as though you have not been improving. Because I have been slowly removing the weight increasingly more each day."

"So I have been improving?" Vincent's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ever since day one."

He found it a bit skeptical. "Nothing feels different."

"The last time you fought April. You beat her did you not?"

Vincent grew quiet, thinking back to just how easy it was to land April on the ground. Their first fight, all he had accomplished was making an ass of himself. His scrimmages with April had definitely changed in his favor.

"Go." Jahni said, gesturing towards the door. "I have not seen you eat once since your arrival. You won't get stronger at this rate. Go. Eat something. Regain your strength."

Vinny rose to his feet, cringing at the pain that shook his middle. He was as fatigued as always after a fight with Jahni, but as he left the room, his exhaustion trickled away. Kailan was occuppying the training floor, spinning and whirling his metal bo staff. It looked more like an art form than weaponry practice—like a dance, the way he moved so gracefully. It was as if the staff was an attachment of himself—attracted magnetically to his fingers, revolving around them, floating weightlessly but never leaving him. In seconds, Vincent found himself seated, watching the display in a hypnotic trance.