The night pressed down on the compound like a heavy curtain, muffling every sound except the wind's low whistle against steel walls. Luna sat on the edge of her narrow bed, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened. The training room lights still glowed faintly in her mind—the echo of Kai's harsh voice, the sting of his demands, the weight of every blow she had taken that day.
"Again, Luna."
His words had carved themselves into her skin as much as his strikes.
"Faster. Sharper. Stronger. You're too soft. You hesitate. Hesitation is death."
But the worst wasn't his fists or his voice. It was the way he looked at her afterward: not like a person, not like someone worth saving, but as a tool. A weapon in progress. Something to sharpen until it cut through anything without breaking.
Luna exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She wanted to scream, but the sound remained stuck in her throat.
A faint knock broke the silence. She froze. Nobody came to her room uninvited. Not unless it was Kai, and Kai never knocked.
"Luna," a voice whispered. Jax.
She hesitated, then rose and cracked the door open. The dim hallway light spilled across his face. He looked exhausted, hair mussed, eyes carrying a weight he tried hard to hide.
"Can I come in?" he asked softly.
She stepped aside without a word. Jax slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He lingered by it, as if debating whether he should even be here, then turned toward her with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You're shaking," he said quietly, noticing her trembling hands.
"I'm fine," she replied too quickly. Her voice cracked on the last syllable, betraying her.
"No, you're not." He moved closer, slow and cautious, as if she were a bird that might scatter. "He's pushing you too far. I can see it."
Luna's chest tightened. Part of her wanted to collapse against him, to let someone else carry the weight for once. But another part—the louder part—hissed at her to stay cold, to protect herself. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.
"You think I can't handle it?" she asked, her tone sharper than intended.
"That's not what I said." Jax's jaw tensed. He studied her, frustration mixing with concern. "But Kai—he doesn't care if he breaks you in the process of shaping you. I've seen it before. You're not the first he's trained."
Something twisted inside Luna. "And what happened to the others?" she asked.
Jax's silence was answer enough.
Her stomach turned, but she forced herself not to show it. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Then maybe I have to let him break me. Maybe that's the only way to survive here."
Jax's eyes darkened. He closed the gap between them, his voice low, urgent. "No. Don't say that. You're not just some tool for him to sharpen and throw into the fire. You're more than this place, Luna. I can see it."
Her breath caught. No one had ever said that to her before. Not even her mother.
For a second—just a second—she believed him.
But then the memory of the warehouse came back. The boy's trembling voice, the hands that dragged her into darkness, the weight of three men pressing her into the ground while she screamed into nothing. The world had already decided what she was: broken, disposable, useless.
She pulled away from Jax's gaze, her throat burning. "You don't know me," she whispered. "You don't know what I've survived. You don't know what I've lost."
"I don't need to," he said fiercely. "Because I know who you can become."
The words lodged deep in her chest, where they both healed and hurt.
Before she could reply, the door slammed open.
Kai stood there, his presence filling the small room like a storm cloud. His eyes flicked from Luna to Jax, and though his face betrayed little, the tension in his body spoke volumes.
"What are you doing here?" Kai's voice was calm, almost too calm.
Jax straightened, his expression hardening. "Checking on her. She's not ready for the pace you're forcing on her."
"That's not your decision to make," Kai said, stepping inside. He looked at Luna then, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his gaze—not anger, not cruelty, but something more dangerous: possession.
"She chose this path," Kai continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "Didn't you, Luna?"
Her heart pounded. Both men were staring at her, waiting for her answer, pulling her in opposite directions. Jax's eyes begged her to resist, to hold onto herself. Kai's demanded obedience, demanded she prove her worth.
Luna's lips parted. No sound came out. She felt trapped between two versions of herself: the girl who still wanted to be human, and the girl being carved into a blade.
Finally, she whispered, "I chose this."
Jax flinched as if she'd struck him. He opened his mouth to argue, but Kai cut him off.
"Good." A faint smirk tugged at Kai's mouth. "Then you'll be ready tomorrow. First mission. No more training wheels."
Luna's stomach dropped. She hadn't expected it to come so soon.
Kai turned to leave, his words slicing through the air like a knife. "Rest well. Tomorrow, we see what you're truly made of."
The door shut behind him, leaving silence.
Jax looked at her, hurt blazing in his eyes. "You didn't have to say that," he murmured.
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I did," she whispered back. "Because if I don't survive this… nothing else will matter."
Jax stepped closer, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for hers but stopped himself. "Surviving isn't the same as living, Luna. Don't forget that."
Then he left too.
And Luna stood in the quiet, her chest aching, her hands trembling, her heart split in two.
Tomorrow, she would step into her first mission. Tomorrow, she would either prove herself—or lose what was left of her humanity.
The night pressed in once more, heavy and suffocating, as Luna lay back on the bed and whispered to herself, over and over, like a prayer and a curse:
I chose this. I chose this. I chose this.
But deep inside, she wondered if she was choosing survival—or slowly choosing her own destruction.