#Chapter 89 – Ghosts Between

Damon The sting of steel against my wrist felt good. Clean. Honest. I pivoted, blade arcing low, slamming into Ronan’s guard hard enough to rattle bone. He grunted, deflected, and shoved back, sweat glistening along his brow. Our boots scraped violently against the stone floor of the private training ring, scarring the space with every furious step. Again. I lunged. Ronan barely blocked the downward strike. The impact drove him back two paces. Again. He parried and returned a blow to my side that I absorbed without flinching. Again. “Damon!” Ronan barked, stepping out of range and throwing up a hand. “Enough.” But I didn’t stop. The fury still thrashed inside me, feral and unsatisfied. I came at him again—shoulder first, then a feint, then a hard cut toward his ribs. He blocked, barely, but the moment faltered. I swept his legs out from under him with a grunt and pinned the flat of my blade against his throat. His breathing was harsh beneath me, but so was