Chapter 184

“Actually,” I said, “I think there’s something you can do for me, Scott. But this has to stay between us.”

“Of course, Luna Hannah. Whatever you need.”

“I need you to research an internet user known as WhiteRabbit.”

“Drake?” I called out, stepping into the dimly lit training center. “You in here?”

“Over here!”

I followed the sound of Drake’s voice. There he was, stretching beside the sparring ring, his muscles straining against his shirt, his hair slightly mussed from his motorcycle helmet. It was early, though not nearly as early as my training sessions with Noah.

“Are you ready to get started?” he asked as I approached, a cheeky grin on his face. “Ready for training?”

I pursed my lips. “My training with Noah is real,” I retorted.

Drake huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. But, yes, I’m ready.”

With that, we stepped into the ring. Our training session began much as it had the last time—practicing punches and kicks first, followed by footwork, and then rigorous grappling on the mat.

“It’s best if you avoid letting your arms get separated, like this,” Drake explained, positioning himself on top of me with one arm to my left side and the other beside my head. “Grab my arm that’s by your head, pull, and watch what happens.”

I did as he said, and suddenly, his hands splayed out. He fell on top of me, nearly crushing me—and because of his stance, with one arm trapped, he was helpless to get back up.

“See how I just lost my balance easily?” he asked. “It’s better not to stagger your limbs like that; it makes it too easy for an attacker to gain control.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek and continued training.

We continued like that for some time, practicing basic moves and grapples. He took it slowly, teaching me how to not only get him into various holds but also how to get out of those same holds myself.

“Alright,” he finally said, standing and helping me to my feet. “Let’s practice a little sparring, shall we? Just sixty seconds.”

“Sixty seconds?” I cocked my head. “That’s not a very long time.”

Drake chuckled. “It feels like a lot longer when you’re in it.”

With that, we set the timer and began to circle each other. I kept my stance low and wide, as both Drake and Noah had taught me, my hands up and head ducked. I lunged forward on one leg, wrapping my arms around Drake’s waist in an attempt to get him down on his back, but he was too powerful.

Suddenly, the world tilted as he countered my grapple, flipped me, and threw me onto my back. I felt the breath leave my lungs. Drake stepped back, allowing me to climb to my feet, my head reeling.

“Try again,” he ordered.

With a nod, I regained my composure and lunged again—but I was even slower now, and this time, Drake aimed a blow at my stomach.

A blow aimed straight at my stomach. Something awakened in me at that moment. Something that only a mother could feel. A feral growl ripped from my throat, and suddenly, I was lurching backward, falling into a crouch a few feet away—like a cat prepared to pounce.

“Don’t go for my stomach like that!” I snarled, fire burning in my eyes as one hand clutched my belly.

Drake’s eyes widened as they flickered to my belly, where my hand was still protectively clutched, and then to my face—and recognition dawned across his features as he saw the blazing fury in my gaze.

“Hannah,” he breathed, “are you…?”