The training gym looked like a high school basketball court on one side and a weight room on the other. A row of targets was mounted on the right wall. A running track lined the perimeter, and there was even what looked like gymnastic equipment and a massive climbing wall on the left wall.

Moreno was operating a bench press machine shirtless, and it was almost impossible not to stare as he lifted more than I would ever be able to pick up.

"Oh," Gayle looked slightly crestfallen. "I was hoping he'd be running."

"How often do you guys hit the gym?" I asked.

"There are monthly benchmark tests to ensure we are in shape," Gayle said. "I'm not a lifter, but running isn't so bad. Or climbing to the top of the wall for a speed test. I mean, I'm not Alana or Moreno, but I'm not lazy."

I didn't lift, but I knew hard work. Grandpa taught Dylan and me how to fix barbed wire when we were twelve. I'd dug through mud and helped bale hay. Not to mention that I'd always loved running.

Moreno did four more reps. I felt bad for staring but didn't want to interrupt and break his concentration.

Gayle just stared. She wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. When Moreno finally finished up and when he got up from the machine, his bronze eyes met mine.

"Welcome to my favorite place in the compound," he said.

He grabbed his shirt from a nearby bench. He pulled the stretchy black shirt back on, and Gayle skipped forward and flipped her hair.

"Good morning, Lord Ethesis," Gayle flashed a big smile.

Moreno sighed. "Don't you have a shift, Gayle?"

"Later," Gayle said. "I told Alana I'd make sure she got here. Besides, shouldn't she get the princess treatment?"

"Don't call me a princess," I said. "It's really not a big deal."

"Well, unless you want to sharpen your knife skills, it'll be better if you get some rest before your shift," Moreno said. "Can't have you falling asleep at the computer again."

"That was one time," Gayle harumphed.

"Well, administrative orders came in this morning, and apparently, Doc decided I'm the best fit for lieutenant, so I can write you up if you're being insubordinate," Moreno said. "So why don't you leave me with la princessa and run off and work on some dress."

Gayle flushed. "You're lucky you're hot because you really are a knucklehead."

She stomped from the room. Moreno put his hands in his pockets and waited until she was gone before he moved.

"She's always trouble," Moreno said.

I looked at my shoes, unsure of what to say. "Congrats on being made lieutenant."

Moreno laughed. "It's always tests with Doc. I guess Abel wrote her a report begging to be relieved of the extra responsibility, and Doc is using this as an opportunity to test me. I've never been her favorite, but she is fair."

"You could be nicer to Gayle," I said.

Moreno raised an eyebrow. "Why? She's always throwing herself at me. I'm hoping at some point, she'll get the picture. I'm not interested."

He walked over to a large panel beside the climbing wall. He keyed in an instruction, and part of the floor in the gym opened up, and a cabinet of equipment rose from the floor. He gestured for me to follow him, and we walked over to the cabinet.

He pulled open the doors to reveal various types of weapons. There were staffs and plastic guns that had darts. I could spot nets and shields. Nothing looked particularly lethal except a sharp row of throwing knives.

Moreno pulled three throwing knives from the case. They looked natural in his hand. He then used a key on the side of the case, and the targets moved off the walls and about ten feet away from us.

"Have you ever thrown knives?" Moreno asked.

"Nope," I said. "Do you throw knives a lot?"

"Not at giants," Moreno said. "It's supposed to promote patience, accuracy, and precision. It also makes for a lovely game when we're bored. Some days, even I don't have perfect accuracy."

"I'm guessing it's hard?" I asked.

"It takes practice, and I'd rather see you practicing accuracy and precision before we start with the sleep gun," Moreno said. "And honestly, no one alive is perfect with knives. Not even me."

He grinned and strapped two of the spare knives to a holster on his leg. Then he took the throwing knife and squared off with the target.

"You don't want to flick your wrist," he said, pulling his arm back. "Make sure your movement is smooth and firm."

He threw the knife, and it flew end over end and hit the top of the target. He pulled out a second knife and demonstrated the throw again. This time, he hit the outer ring of the bullseye. His third throw hit the target in the dead center.

"Not a bad warm-up," Moreno said. "This skill never came as naturally to Alana. When they first trained us, we'd spend the first hour every morning running for thirty minutes and then throwing knives the rest of the time."

He walked to retrieve the blades. When he came back over with three knives in tow, he handed me one.

The solid steel was cold in my hand. Moreno adjusted my hand around the blade, and a shiver went down my spine as his fingers connected with mine.

"Make sure the motion is fluid," his voice was soft. "And there's no pressure. I threw knives for an hour the first time before I even hit the board."

He stepped back to give me space. I pulled my arm back and moved it through the motion without releasing the knife. Moreno made notes, and I tried again. After the third time I readjusted, Moreno grinned.

"You can try releasing this time, princessa," he said.

I brought my arm back and let the blade fly. We both watched as the blade flew end over end straight into the center of the target.

Moreno whistled. "Are you hustling me, princessa?"

I stared at the knife in disbelief. "Beginners luck?"

Moreno handed me another knife. My fingers naturally gripped the blade like I'd done it a thousand times. I pulled my arm back and launched the second knife at the board. The blade sank beside the first in the center of the target.

My jaw sank. After the speech he'd given about this being hard, I didn't know how I was able to do this.

I turned back to Moreno. He barely blinked as he passed me the final blade. I threw again, and the blade hit the board right above the first knife.

"You can just tell me that the Oakeleys broke the rules and trained you," he said. "I won't get them in trouble."

I stalked to the board and pulled the knives loose. Moreno watched me like a predator surveying his prey. He clearly didn't believe that these were the first three knives I'd ever thrown.

"They didn't," I said. "I promise."

Moreno stood there shell-shocked as I threw the knives again. Every line was perfect. The knives always sank in the middle. They never clattered off each other.

My eyes lined up the throws naturally, and my arm was practically using muscle memory. The only thing that felt off was my stomach. Dread built higher and higher until my spine crawled, and my body felt like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket.

After about ten more sets, Moreno cleared his throat when I went to retrieve the knives yet again.

"Can you throw them straight without spinning them?" He asked. "Because I've always found that harder."

"I don't know," I said honestly, walking back to the starting point with the knives in my hand.

I thought about the changes that my stance and arm would make. I didn't want to ask Moreno to model the throw. Then he might accuse me of cheating again.

Instead, I faced the target again, taking a deep breath and exhaling out my mouth. I let the knife fly, and it flew straight into the center of the target without spinning once.

"I wasn't going to do this today," Moreno said. "But I want to see you with one of our daze guns."

"Daze gun?" I frowned and retrieved my knife.

"We don't use traditional bullets," Moreno said. "Wounding giants is a lot of paperwork. We try not to hurt anyone. Daze guns paralyze giants for a few hours."

Moreno took the knives from my hand and walked back to the cabinet. After placing the knives back inside, he took out what looked like a bright blue handgun.

"Why is it blue?" I asked.

"We want them to be easy to see," Moreno said. "We only use black ones when we go into the human world. This one is loaded with blanks. I want you to fire it at the target."

Moreno handed me the gun and once again showed me how to adjust the grip. My fingers quaked. I'd never felt a gun before, and even if this one only shot blanks, it was still a gun. I could hurt someone.

"Relax," Moreno said. "I can tell for sure you've never held one of these before. You're as stiff as a board princessa."

The ball of dread was back in the pit of my stomach. My heart started to race, and I couldn't tell if it was because Moreno was leaning against me or because I was terrified of the piece of equipment in my hand.

Moreno tried to steady my hands. "Take a deep breath. This is a tool. It can't hurt anyone yet."

"I..." the reason for the fear illuded me. "I'm sorry."

It was strange. I wasn't an anxious person. This felt different. It was like my mind was being invaded and taking me places it thought it should be, but in reality, it had never been.

I was stressed. That had to be it. This military compound was taking a toll on me. It was just my body trying to process everything going on. That and the attractive guy training me who wasn't looking at me like I was a freak.

"You're going to be fine, Terri," he said.

My name reverberated through my ears. I could tell he wasn't joking anymore when he used my name.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could learn to protect myself. I wondered if that was the only way to make a future.

The moment I had that thought, my eyes heated up, and I could feel myself falling. I barely had time to wonder what I'd done because when I blinked, I found myself standing in the center of a massive room.

A huge gold seat covered in a red velvet blanket stood before me. It would only be a throne. A man who was ten feet tall stalked around the chair and glared down.

It was impossible to pinpoint his exact age, but his well-trimmed gray beard and piercing eyes matched mine. His gold crown nestled in his hair, and he did not look like a man who was used to being denied.

I stood in front of him, dressed in halfant armor. It was strange seeing myself. Especially since I was pointing a blue gun at a giant who I realized was the king of Jontun. And also my maternal grandfather.

"You're a fool, Theresa," his voice sounded like it was coming far away. "You cannot kill me. No one can."

"I never wanted to kill you," my voice was equally faint. "I came to make sure Victor was safe. I was more worried about the army. I didn't think you were as deranged as Elle."

"Insolent girl," the king walked towards me with rage simmering in his eyes. "You meddlesome Oakeley children ruined everything. Once I had clarity, and now... I see all of my children and their children are mistakes. One I will have to remedy tonight."

His heavily ringed hand drew his sword and swung it towards me. Then my vision dissolved, and I was sitting on the floor of the gym with tears streaking down my face.

My body shook. Moreno gently wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He must have lowered me to the floor.

"What did you see?" His voice was barely a whisper.

I couldn't call words. I just stared at the blue gun on the floor beside me, identical to the one I'd pointed at the king.

The dread was gone, replaced with complete devastation. I'd never be able to escape. The future wasn't bright. I wasn't safe here.

Events were coming where I would be forced to make decisions that would ruin me. Some day soon, my grandfather would try to kill me.

"Take me back to my room," I said. "Please."

I was shaking so badly I couldn't get up. Moreno ended up sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me back to my bed.

Once he was gone, I curled up under the covers and cried myself to sleep, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have more dreams. 

Hey friends!! I hope you enjoyed what I thought was one of the most complex chapters I've written in this book, between the action and the visions. What do you think of Moreno's training methods? What about Terri's vision? Until next time!