Him, His Uncle And I!

04h30 am

Rebecca's pov

I hadn’t slept a wink the entire night. Now, I had to drag myself out of bed for some morning training, since I’d missed the last two days. The clock on the wall across from my bed read 4:30 AM. I made a mental note—three hours of sleep, maybe less. Still, training time was training time.

Kneeling on the ground, I reached under my bed and pulled out my worn-out Nike sneakers. They were in bad shape—busted, frayed, and barely holding together—but they were comfortable. I didn’t have the luxury to be picky, and honestly, they were all I had. A bitter thought crossed my mind, and without realizing it, I touched my belly. The life growing inside me might just be worth a million dollars someday. A substantial amount, enough to buy myself a dozen new pairs of sneakers and all the things I’d always wanted as a kid but never got.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Selena’s voice rang in my head, deep, rich, and melodic.

“Good morning, Selena,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at her interference.

“It was just a thought,” I replied, brushing away the fantasy. “If I were to keep the baby, it wouldn’t be for the money. It would be because your life is at stake, too.”

I shot back at her, irritated by her timing. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? I knew my morals would never let me keep a child for the sake of money—no amount of sneakers would ever convince me to do something like that. It was just daydreaming.

“That’s not an option,” Selena said, her tone serious. “My life doesn’t come before yours, Rebecca. I hope you’ve made a wise decision.”

Selena’s words cut through me, and I frowned. She was bringing up a conversation I wasn’t ready to have. Not this early. Not now.

“Sel, it’s too early for this. Can I just go train without having to think about this right now?” I grumbled, standing up from the bed. I tiptoed to where I’d thrown my hoodie last night, pulling it on over my pajama top. At least I’d worn sweatpants to bed—they would make for decent training gear today.

“Mm, sure. But when you’re done with training, we’re talking again. No more avoiding it.”

Her voice faded, becoming little more than an echo in my mind, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. I sighed and walked out of the dorm, careful not to wake anyone. As I closed the door behind me, the quiet seemed almost unnatural.

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh. There was no one near the dorm, and I didn’t sense any patrollers in the vicinity, so the place was free. I could move around without fear of being caught. I breathed in deeply, letting the peace settle into me before I made my way to the cabins in the woods.

As I walked, an odd sense of anticipation hit me. A silly part of me half-expected to run into Ryan. But, to my disappointment, he wasn’t there. I forced myself not to care, pretending I was relieved instead of disappointed.

When I reached the cabin, I began my usual warm-up routine—running in place, stretching, and loosening up my muscles. The familiar rhythm calmed me.

Then it was time for my main event. I hadn’t seen any older warriors training recently, so I had nothing new to incorporate into my plan.

I made my way behind the cabin and found the dagger I’d hidden there—one of the few weapons I owned. Most of my gear was stashed around the woods, away from prying eyes. It was my only option for training today.

I didn’t have the energy for anything complex, but I needed to push through. Exhausted as I was, I grabbed the dagger from behind the cabana, the cold handle familiar in my hand. I started with basic swings, using the motion to wake up my stiff body. The repetition was comforting, even if my movements were slower than usual.

I moved through my warm-up, a series of basic slashes and thrusts. My limbs were heavy from lack of sleep, but I kept going, determined to finish the routine.

Then, as I tried to swing the dagger with a little more force, my grip slipped, and the blade sliced across my arm.

"Ugh!" I hissed, stepping back and instinctively pressing my hand to the cut. Blood seeped out quickly, staining my sleeve.