Chapter 117

• Suddenly, a loud clang echoed against the iron bars of my cell, jolting me out of my thoughts. I jumped to my feet instantly, despite having sat cross-legged against the wall for hours. My legs were stiff and sore—one even partially numb—but adrenaline surged through me, and I instinctively shifted into a fighting stance that Steve had taught me.
• He would have been proud if he had been there to witness it. Throughout the week of intense training with the three males, Steve had drilled these moves into me, insisting that he would continue to repeat them until they became second nature for me. He couldn't have cared less if I grew tired or bored; all he wanted was for me to absorb these skills.
• Evidently, his methods had paid off, and I longed to share my success with Steve, but I knew that was impossible. While I was certain he would have beamed with pride over my progress, the prison guard didn't share that sentiment. He seemed unimpressed by my newfound confidence, likely laughing at my display, finding it ridiculous at best or cute at worst. But I smiled proudly at my reflection in that moment because I recognized how drastically my reflexes and instinctive responses had transformed. If this reaction demonstrated anything, it was that I was no longer a coward—I was a fighter.