Twilight draped the gym in bruised purples, the air heavy with the scent of oiled leather and simmering curry from Mrs. Patel's latest batch cooling on a makeshift counter. The crew had scattered to watch posts around Harbor—Rico and Scarface patrolling the docks, Spike running messages to Razor's holdouts, Elena retreating to her apartment with the journal clutched like a talisman, promising deeper lore at dawn. Alex lingered alone in the ring, shadows flickering at his fingertips unbidden, testing the limits of his fraying control as veins pulsed blackly beneath his bandaged skin.The side door creaked open, admitting Lena with the stealth of someone who'd mapped the building's blind spots. She carried a duffel—towels, water bottles, a first-aid kit—and wore practical gear: fitted black tank, cargo pants, boots scuffed from too many stakeouts. Her red hair caught the dim light like embers, and she tossed him a water bottle without preamble. "Ready? Off-record means no crew, no shadows slipping. Just you, me, and whatever this power really is."Alex caught it, the cool plastic grounding him amid the inner storm. "Not much to train. It... wakes when cornered." But her presence steadied something deeper, her no-nonsense gaze cutting through his evasion like harbor fog before wind.They started simple: footwork drills around the ring, her pipe swapped for sparring pads. Lena moved like liquid fire—quick jabs forcing him to weave, shadows instinctively rising as thin shields that dissipated on command. "Focus it," she coached, breath steady despite the pace. "Don't fight the pull—channel." Sweat beaded on her brow, a faint scar on her collarbone visible under the tank's strap, hinting at stories she hadn't shared.Mid-spar, Alex slipped; a shadow tendril lashed wild, coiling her ankle. He yanked back panicked. "Sorry—" She twisted free laughing breathlessly, tackling him to the mat in a pin that left them inches apart chests heaving. "See? Reactive. Breathe through it." Her weight pinned him, eyes locking—trust, challenge, heat. The moment stretched electric until she rolled off smirking. "Good recovery. Now attack."Hours melted away: he shaped threads into ropes for evasion practice, mended a torn pad with pulsing wisps, even glimpsed a "sense" of distant crew like radar pings. Lena adapted seamlessly pushing limits bandaging flare-ups her touch clinical yet intimate lingering on his blackened veins. "These hurt?" she asked softly during cooldown chai steaming between them."Like fire under skin," he admitted voice low. "Elders Draven—they want this blood."She nodded leaning closer elbows on knees. "My digging hit paydirt. Vinny wasn't pizza guy—he was exile protecting the core from council purges. You're key now." Her hand covered his briefly warmth chasing shadows. "We're in this. Partners?"Before he answered a crash echoed outside—Spike bursting in wild-eyed. "Pack! Draven's wolves ten strong ripping through Razor's alley shadows hunting you Boss!"Alex surged up power igniting veins alive. Lena grabbed her pipe eyes fierce. "Together?"Shadows answered yes roaring to life.
