Ethan unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside. Will sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open, fingers still tapping as he glanced up briefly.
"How'd it go?" he asked. "How's the kid?"
Ethan dropped his keys on the counter and sank into the chair opposite him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair before answering. "He's holding up. His test results were unbelievable."
That pulled Will's full attention. He closed the laptop halfway and lifted an eyebrow. "Unbelievable how?"
"Strength, speed, reflexes, everything," Ethan said. "He outperformed half the roster here, including Owen."
Will didn't look remotely shocked. He simply nodded as if Ethan had confirmed something he already suspected.
Ethan frowned. "You don't look surprised."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Will's mouth. "It tracks if he's Rory Atwood. And if Robert Atwood really was his father."
Ethan let the comment settle, then gestured toward Will's laptop. "What about you?"
Will shook his head and snapped the computer shut. "Nothing. No one has heard of the group we ran into, and no one recognises that lion emblem. I checked every Hector file I can access. Zero hits." He folded his arms. "Either they're brand new or they've been hiding for years. Whichever it is, Hector hasn't touched them."
Neither possibility sat well with Ethan.
Before he could respond, the front door opened and Owen walked in, letting his bag hit the floor with a heavy thump.
Will glanced up. "How was training?"
"Fine," Owen muttered, already sensing Ethan's mood.
Ethan leaned against the counter, watching him carefully. "What happened earlier?"
Will blinked, confused. "Earlier where?"
Owen shrugged without meeting Ethan's eyes. "I don't know."
"That's a lie," Ethan said. His arms folded slowly across his chest. "You know exactly what happened. What did Beau make Rory see?"
Will's eyebrows shot up. "Beau messed with the new kid?"
Owen scowled. "Yeah. And then the psycho jumped him."
"He's not a psycho," Ethan warned.
Owen scoffed. "He basically smashed Beau's face in over nothing."
"I'm starting to like this kid," Will muttered, clearly amused.
Owen shot him a sharp look. "Shut up, Will."
Ethan leaned forward. "It wasn't over nothing. So I'll ask you again. What did Beau do?"
"I told you, I don't know!" Owen snapped, too fast, too defensive.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. Will's did too.
"Beau isn't good enough to dig that deep on his own," Ethan said. "Did you push him into Rory's head?"
"No," Owen bit back, immediate, clipped, unconvincing.
Will stared at him, unimpressed.
Owen folded his arms and looked away. "Why do you care so much? He's a chop shop case. He will either pass control or fail it, and then he's gone."
Ethan shrugged lightly. "Maybe he won't be."
Owen scoffed again. "Please. Karmal isn't taking a chop shop kid."
"With scores like his, they might," Ethan said evenly.
Owen's scowl deepened, irritation simmering beneath the surface.
Ethan straightened, studying him closely. "What is actually going on with you? Why are you acting like this toward him?"
Owen let out a bitter, humourless laugh. "I'm not acting like anything. I just don't see why you're suddenly losing sleep over him."
"No one's losing sleep," Ethan said. "We're just trying to help. And I thought you, of all people, would understand what that feels like."
Owen stilled. "Why?"
"Because not long ago, you were the one who needed patience and a place to land."
The words hit. Owen held Ethan's gaze for a long moment, something wounded flickering behind his eyes, before he grabbed his bag and walked away. His bedroom door
slammed a second later.
Will let out a slow breath. "That went well."
Ethan didn't answer, rubbing his palms over his face.
Will tilted his head. "So what actually happened? What did Beau pull?"
"Something he shouldn't have," Ethan said quietly. "Made Rory see something bad."
Will winced. "Shit."
"Yeah."
Before either could say more, Ethan's phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID: David.
He answered. "Yeah?"
"Karen wants to see you in her office."
Ethan shut his eyes for a beat. "About what?"
"She didn't say."
Of course she didn't.
"Alright. I'm coming."
He hung up and met Will's gaze.
"What does she want?" Will asked.
"No idea," Ethan muttered, already bracing himself.
Will raised an eyebrow. "Sounds promising."
Ethan didn't bother responding. He grabbed his jacket, tension winding tight beneath his ribs, and headed for the door.***
Ethan stepped into Sullivan's office, the door clicking shut behind him. Karen didn't look up at first. She sat perfectly composed behind her desk, shoulders straight, one finger tapping idly against a folder. The room felt colder than usual.
"I know what you did," she said, still not meeting his eyes.
Ethan kept his expression neutral. "You'll have to narrow that down."
She finally looked up, unimpressed. "The illegal implant, Ethan. The one you got in an illegal clinic. Did you really think we wouldn't find out?" she asked.
"How did you find out?" Ethan countered.
Karen laced her fingers together. "You're not the only one with talented technopathic friends."
He filed that away, but she clearly wasn't going to elaborate. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms.
"Why?" Karen pressed. "You have my protection. Archer's. You didn't need to sneak around us."
"It was a safety measure," Ethan said.
Her expression cooled. "Safety."
"In case something changes down the line," he clarified. "Not everyone is as kind or... flexible as you and Archer. You know that."
Karen exhaled slowly, studying him. "You really think that implant is going to hide what you are?" Her voice stayed even, but there was no softness in it. "That it's actually going to keep your Bultena side buried?"
Ethan held her gaze. "It buys time. And it gives me cover if someone goes digging in the wrong place. That's worth it."
She didn't argue, but the silence between them thickened.
"You know if you'd come to us, we could have implemented a controlled version here," Karen said at last, a small, insincere smile touching her mouth.
Ethan's brow lifted, mirroring it. "Would you have, though?"
They stared each other down for a few long seconds.
"So what now?" Ethan asked. "You finally kicking me out?"
Karen's smirk faded into something flatter. "No. But I'm not happy about this."
Another beat of silence.
"Tell me about this new boy I keep hearing about," she said.
Ethan hesitated. "What about him?"
Karen tilted her head, unimpressed with the dodge. "I've heard a few things. That he was enhanced in the same facility." She let that sit. "Is it true?"
He didn't answer.
"Red band him and move on," she said. "We're not investing resources into someone who needed an illegal clinic just to get enhanced."
Ethan's hands curled into fists at his sides. "That's your assessment? He's just a write-off?"
"An illegal enhancement clinic," she repeated, slow and pointed. "Or as some of you like to call them, chop shops. Not exactly Karmal recruitment material."
"He scored high on the performance test," Ethan said evenly. "He has real potential, if you actually look at the data instead of the label."
"He attacked one of ours in the break room," Karen replied. Not impressed.
"He was provoked," Ethan said. "And he's more than what you think he is. You might want to hear who he is before you decide he's disposable."
Karen didn't bother hiding her impatience. "Ethan, nothing you tell me in this office is going to change my decision. He's a chop shop case, and we're not wasting resources on him."
Ethan didn't move. "You sure about that?"
Karen arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "There is no detail you can give me that will justify keeping him on our books. Red band him and be done with-"
"Rory Atwood," Ethan said quietly.
Silence formed instantly, sharp and clean.
Karen's expression didn't crack at first. Then she stilled, her eyes flicking up with intent rather than irritation. "Atwood," she repeated.
"As in Robert Atwood," Ethan clarified.
Karen slowly sat forward in her chair. "You're telling me the kid with the illegal implant is Robert Atwood's son?"
Ethan gave a measured nod.
Her fingers tapped against her desk once, an unconscious tell she rarely allowed to show. "And you waited until now to mention this?"
"I wasn't going to throw that name around until I was certain," Ethan said evenly. "I needed confirmation before I brought it to you."
Karen leaned back, processing, her gaze going distant for a moment as calculations shifted behind it. When she finally spoke again, her tone had changed, cooler, sharper.
"Why," she asked, "would Robert Atwood's son need to walk into an illegal enhancement clinic in the first place?"
Ethan hesitated, then answered with the truth he knew she'd want. "Because he already had an implant."
Karen froze completely. Not shocked, Ethan had never seen her shocked, but locked in place like someone verifying the shape of a weapon she hadn't realised was on the table.
Her voice was quieter now. "Already had one."
"Yes."
Karen's eyes narrowed, something keen and hungry flickering across them. "The implant Atwood was building, the one every lab and agency has been chasing ghosts about for over a decade, vanished before his death." Her voice dipped, almost thoughtful. "And you're telling me his son already has something in his skull... before he ever stepped near an enhancement clinic?"
She leaned forward slowly, pupils narrowing with interest."That is not a coincidence, Ethan."
Ethan held her gaze. "Which is why he needs protection."
Karen didn't scoff. She didn't push back. She only watched him in a quiet, calculating way that made it clear gears were turning fast.
"If Atwood's prototype resurfaced," she said, tone almost reverent, "and it's functioning inside a living subject... do you understand what that means? For Karmal. For Hector."
She sat back, composed but lit with interest. "Well," she murmured. "That changes everything."
Ethan's stomach tightened. "Does it?"
Karen's smile sharpened, small but unmistakably predatory. "It means he isn't expendable. It means he's not just some chop shop mishap. He's a priority."
Ethan's jaw set.
"And if he's carrying anything even remotely connected to Robert Atwood's work," she continued, "we cannot afford to lose him. Hector cannot afford to lose him."
Ethan shook his head slightly. "He's a kid, Karen. Not a project to catalogue."
"He's both," she said, unbothered. "And pretending otherwise won't protect him. It will just leave him undefended."
His fingers curled into his palms, tension winding through him.
"He gets a say. He deserves that much." Ethan said, voice quiet but firm.
Karen stepped around her desk, her voice shifting into something quieter, almost persuasive.
"Fine. Let him choose." she said. "But don't pretend that walking away from Karmal gives him freedom. It gives him exposure."
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
Karen continued, "Out there, he's unregistered, untrained, and carrying something people would kill for. Do you honestly think he'd last a month before someone clocked what he is?"She paused, letting that sink in."He needs someone who understands this world. Someone who knows how ugly it gets."
Ethan didn't look away.
"And whether you like it or not," Karen said softly, "that someone is you."
A beat of silence passed between them.
"You care about the boy," she went on, tone measured. "Good. Use that. Because if you want to protect him, if you want him safe and alive and not carved apart by whatever group finds him next..." Her gaze sharpened. "...then Karmal is the only place he stands a chance. And you are the only person here who actually gives a damn enough to keep him from slipping through the cracks."
Ethan's breath faltered for a moment. Not enough for her to see, but enough for him to feel.
Karen raised her chin. "Think whatever you want about me, but I'm giving you clarity. You want to protect him? Then keep him here. Train him. Make him capable of defending himself. You cannot shield him out in the wild. Here, you can."
Her voice softened just a fraction.
"And frankly, Ethan... if you don't step up for him, someone else will. And they won't be as kind."
That landed. Hard. Because she wasn't wrong.
Ethan knew exactly what would happen to someone like Rory if the wrong people reached him first. He'd seen it. He'd lived the edges of it.
Karen returned to her seat, satisfied. "So. Keep him close."
Ethan didn't trust his voice enough to answer her. He turned for the door instead, feeling the press of the conversation trailing him out into the corridor.
He walked a few steps before stopping, the weight of Sullivan's words settling in a place he hadn't realised was still unguarded. Rory wasn't an asset to catalogue or a variable to manage. He wasn't something for Karmal to shape or dissect. He was a frightened kid caught in a machinery he didn't know existed, straddling a world that had already decided his worth without his consent.
Sullivan had shown her teeth while she said it, but beneath her manoeuvring lay a truth he couldn't ignore: if Rory slipped out of Karmal's reach, he wouldn't fall into freedom. He would fall into the hands of people who would see nothing but opportunity. People who would carve him apart for the chance to claim whatever Robert Atwood left behind.
Ethan's pulse tightened. It wasn't loyalty to Karmal that pulled at him, and it certainly wasn't Sullivan's agenda. It was the stark understanding that Rory's life would be shaped by whoever stood beside him first. Someone would guide him. Someone would decide what he became. And Ethan knew exactly what kind of forces were waiting outside these walls.
If there was a chance to give the boy something steadier than fear and secrecy, something that resembled a life rather than a sentence, then Ethan would carve that space himself. He would shape the safety Sullivan spoke of into something real, not the weaponised version she preferred.
He started walking again, jaw set, purpose threading through the uncertainty.
Karmal might not be perfect. It might not even deserve the loyalty she demanded. But if this place was the only ground where Rory could stand without being hunted, then Ethan would reinforce every inch of it. Not for Sullivan, not for Hector, but for the boy who had walked into their world already carrying too much.
He drew a slow breath, knowing the conversation he needed to have next, Beau, Owen, Will, all of it, but none of that mattered as much as the kid walking home right now without the faintest idea how many people had begun circling his name. For the moment, Ethan pushed everything else aside. Rory came first.
***
Rory stretched out in his chair, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the library table while Dan scrolled through his phone. The room was muted and still, broken only by the occasional turn of a page or the low buzz of whispered conversations from the handful of students who actually intended to study. Dan, naturally, was not among them.
He didn't bother looking up as he spoke. "So, when are you gonna tell me what's going on with you getting in the car with that guy? The one who, again, not exaggerating, was literally chasing us down two days ago?"
Rory closed his eyes for a beat, already exhausted by the thought of explaining any of this. He hadn't given Dan much to work with the first time he asked.
"I told you," Rory said, steadying his voice, "it was about Nick."
Dan lifted an eyebrow at that, unimpressed. "And that's supposed to solve the mystery? Am I meant to fill in the blanks myself? You can't drop one name and expect me to clap and walk away satisfied."
"It's not like that," Rory said quietly.
"Then what is it like?"
Rory drew in a slow breath. "Complicated."
Dan made an exaggerated face. "Wow. What a gripping, detailed explanation. Thank you for your bravery."
Rory shot him a narrow-eyed look, but Dan only leaned back further, letting his chair tip onto two legs.
"Look, man, I get it. You don't wanna talk about it," Dan went on. "But from where I'm sitting? Nick's wrapped up in some dodgy crap, and you're getting dragged straight into the middle of it. And hey, maybe that's your idea of a hobby. But if you wake up in the boot of someone's car one day, I'd at least like to be able to say I saw that coming."
Rory let out a tired exhale. "It's not like that."
"If you say so."
Dan didn't push any further, but Rory could feel the scrutiny in his sideways glances. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the grain of the tabletop.
Silence settled for a moment, comfortable only for Dan. Then someone's shadow stretched across the table.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Michael Dawson.
Rory recognised him from footy, athletic, loud, always moving like he owned the space he walked through. He pulled out a chair and dropped into it without invitation, fingers tapping a quick beat on the tabletop.
Dan spared him a brief look before returning to whatever he was reading. Rory felt his shoulders tense.
Michael leaned in. "Heard something interesting."
Rory's stomach tightened. "Yeah?"
Michael swept a quick glance around the library and lowered his voice. "Beep test the other day. You actually hit level fourteen."
Rory forced himself not to stiffen. "Uh... yeah. Guess I had a decent day."
Michael studied him like he was analysing weak points in a defence line. "Right. And I suppose it's just a coincidence that you're... into certain things."
Rory blinked, unsure he heard correctly. "What?"
Michael smirked. "Look, I don't care what you take. I just need whatever helped you. Tryouts for the state team are on Saturday." He sat back casually. "I'll pay you."
Rory's mouth opened, ready to shut this entire conversation down, but Dan got there first.
"Sure," Dan said, not even looking up. "Hundred bucks."
Michael scoffed. "Hundred? That's ridiculous."
Dan finally lifted his eyes, utterly unimpressed. "It's not like you can get this at Chemist Warehouse, mate."
Michael hesitated, gaze flicking to Rory as if waiting for him to confirm or deny anything. Rory, still stunned by the direction this was heading, tried to speak, but Dan was already leaning in.
"That's the price. Take it or leave it."
Michael deliberated for a moment before letting out a short breath. "Fine. I'll bring it tomorrow."
Dan's grin sharpened. "Pleasure doing business with you."
Michael stood, gave Rory another assessing once-over, then walked off.
The moment he was out of earshot, Rory rounded on Dan.
"What the hell was that?"
Dan didn't even flinch. "That, dear Rory, was me securing us tickets to Kash B."
Rory stared at him, baffled. "Wait, that's what this is about?"
Dan shrugged with casual confidence. "What else would it be?"
"I don't know...maybe the part where you just promised to sell him drugs we don't actually have?"
Dan waved a lazy hand. "Minor detail."
"That's not a minor detail. That's the entire goddamn situation, Dan!"
Dan only grinned wider. "Relax. I've got it sorted."
Rory narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. "How? Unless you've got some miracle stash hidden in your sock drawer, I don't think weed is going to get him onto a state team. He wants a miracle, not a mellow."
Dan leaned back, smug and mysterious. "Leave it to me."
***
The afternoon light slanted through the reinforced windows as Rory stepped into one of Karmal's private training rooms. The space was quiet, cavernous, and unmistakably engineered for people far stronger than him. High ceilings arched overhead, the walls layered with impact-proof plating. Racks of equipment lined the far side: weights, sensors, dummies, balance rigs. It looked less like a gym and more like a testing arena waiting to judge him.
Ethan was already at one of the control panels, adjusting the room's settings. He glanced over his shoulder when Rory entered.
"Alright," he said stepping away from the tablet. "We'll start simple. Baseline drills, just to get a feel for where you're at."
Rory sighed, Rory tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Didn't we already do tests?"
"Yeah, but numbers don't always translate to real-world ability." Ethan tossed him a pair of training gloves. "Let's see what you can actually do."
Rory slipped the gloves on, trying not to feel ridiculous. "Okay... what do I do first?"
Ethan started simple. He set a standard agility course, cones, hurdles, and balance beams, things that should have been easy. The goal wasn't speed or power. It was precision.
"Run it like you would have before the implant," Ethan said. "Not fast. Not enhanced. Just... you."
Rory nodded, took a breath, and took off. He tried to keep it natural, but his body responded too fast. He overstepped on the first cone, nearly tripping. He recovered, but his turn was too sharp, too smooth. When he vaulted over the hurdle, he barely felt the impact, landing too lightly, too perfectly.
Ethan didn't hide his dissatisfaction. "You're forcing it. Again. Think about how it used to feel. Your steps had weight. Let them."
Rory reset, irritation building like heat behind his teeth. He did it again, exaggerating his movements, trying to force some of his old habits back. It was better, but Ethan still wasn't satisfied.
"Slower," Ethan called. "Let your body remember it."
They repeated the course until the motions finally resembled something recognisably human, tweaking little things, foot placement, momentum, how much force Rory put into his jumps. It wasn't about dampening his abilities but about making them feel natural. By the fifth round, he finally found a rhythm. His movements still had an edge to them, but they weren't unnatural anymore. He wasn't gliding too smoothly or cutting corners too sharply. He looked human. Still, Ethan made him go again. Rory's lungs weren't burning, but his patience was.
Ethan gave a short nod. "Better. Not perfect. We'll refine it."
Rory bit back a response.
Ethan moved them on.
Next was grip control. Ethan handed Rory a stress ball.
"Crush it," Ethan instructed.
Rory did, squeezing until it caved in his hand.
"Alright," Ethan swapped the stress ball for a raw egg. "Now hold this."
Rory stared at it. "Seriously?"
Ethan stood back and nodded. "Don't break it."
Rory frowned looking down at the egg, cradling it carefully.
"Not like it's made of glass," Ethan said. "Hold it like you're throwing a baseball," He instructed.
Rory adjusted, but the pressure was hard to gauge. He felt his fingers tense, just slightly, and, snap! The shell cracked, yolk dripping onto his palm.
Ethan sighed, plucked a towel off the bench, and tossed it toward Rory. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
Rory scowled, wiping his hand off. "This is stupid."
"This is necessary," Ethan corrected. "You don't want to be the guy who shatters someone's hand just from shaking it, right?"
Rory clenched his jaw but nodded.
"Again," Ethan said, handing him another egg.
They went through half a dozen before Rory finally managed to hold one without crushing it. It wasn't just about how hard he squeezed, it was about how aware he was of his own strength, how to adjust it instinctively.
By the time they moved on, Rory's frustration had simmered into quiet determination.
"Alright," Ethan said, tossing him a tennis ball. "On to the next drill. Catch."
Rory caught it easily.
"Now toss it back...like a normal person."
Rory rolled his eyes but threw it. Too fast. Ethan caught it without flinching, but he raised an eyebrow.
"You just threw a casual fastball," Ethan said.
Rory groaned. "This is impossible."
"It's not," Ethan said. "It's just new. You have to learn the difference between what feels normal and what actually is normal. And that takes time."
Rory exhaled, nodding. He got it, even if it was frustrating.
Ethan smirked. "At least you're not going to break glasses just by holding them. Progress."
They moved on. Rory's shoulders felt stiff with irritation.
Ethan leaned against the wall, arms crossed as Rory stood in front of the weighted training dummy.
"Strength and speed are good," Ethan said. "Control is better. You need to be able to function out there without setting off alarms every time you move."
Rory nodded, his arms swinging in a loose, restless motion. He got it. He'd already noticed things felt different. The weight of objects, the way his body moved, it all required less effort. The problem was, he wasn't always sure how much effort to use.
"Try a punch," Ethan instructed. "Not full force, just... normal."
Rory set his stance and threw a punch. The dummy rocked back several inches.
Ethan tilted his head. "That was your version of normal?"
"I think so?"
Ethan sighed. "Alright. Less this time."
Rory tried again, forcing himself to slow down. The hit still landed heavier than it should have.
"This is gonna take some practice," Ethan said. "You've spent your whole life moving a certain way. Now your body's different, and you have to adjust. Think before you act."
Rory huffed. "I am thinking."
"Think more."
Ethan watched him carefully. "It's not just about strength, it's about presence," he said. "If you're not careful, people will notice you move differently. You can't just be strong, you have to be subtle."
Rory rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration turning sour. "So what, I have to pretend to be normal?"
"You have to blend," Ethan said. "Out there, if people see you move like something you're not, you'll attract the wrong kind of attention."
Rory didn't need to guess what he meant. He'd lived with "wrong attention" his whole life.
"And control starts in your head." Ethan added. "No showing off, no pushing yourself further than necessary. And definitely no losing your temper."
Rory's jaw tightened slightly, and Ethan caught it immediately.
"See?" he said. "That right there? Control isn't just physical. Your emotions, your reactions, that all feeds into it. You can't let something set you off and forget to hold back."Rory looked away. Beau's face flashed behind his eyelids. The swing he hadn't meant to land. The strength behind it. The way it had felt satisfying and terrifying at the same time.
Ethan let the silence settle.
"It'll come together," he said more gently. "Today's about awareness, not perfection."
Rory nodded, though the frustration in his chest didn't ease. Training had been going on for hours now. Drills, restraint, control. He understood the point of it, but it still felt like he was just... holding back. He hadn't signed up for this to be told how not to use his enhancements.
"So this it?" Rory asked. His voice had a rough edge now, irritation bleeding through. "I'm just training to be normal?"
Ethan met his stare calmly, reading the frustration with ease. "Normal's not a bad thing," He said with a loose shrug. "It means no one looks at you twice. It means you don't get dragged into something you're not ready for."
Rory clenched his jaw. "Then what's the point of all this?" He gestured vaguely at the training room. "Why even have enhancements if I'm meant to pretend they don't exist, like I'm not allowed to use any of it?"
Ethan studied him for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "Who told you you're not allowed to use them?"
"You did," Rory shot back.
Ethan shook his head. "No. I said you need control. I said you have to think before you use them. That doesn't mean you don't get to. It means you don't get to be reckless with them. In here, you can push yourself. Later, if you join Karmal, you'll use them all the time. But until then? You have to learn to hold the reins."
Rory let out a sharp breath, the frustration settling low and hot in his chest.
Ethan took in his posture, the tension, the restlessness, and stepped back a pace. He lifted his hands, palms open.
"Alright," he said. "You want to actually use your strength? Your speed? All of it?"
Rory's attention snapped to him, suspicion flickering. "...Yeah. Obviously."
"Good." Ethan's stance shifted subtly, deliberate and steady. "Then try to hit me."
Rory blinked. "You're not serious."
Ethan lifted an eyebrow, expression almost amused. "I'm absolutely serious. You're faster. Stronger. Show me."
Rory stared at Ethan for a beat, searching for any sign this was a trick. When he found none, he swallowed once, then lifted his hands. He wasn't a trained fighter, he knew that. His stance was sloppy, the kind you learned from TV and half-remembered playground scraps. But his body pulsed with new power, and that alone made him feel like he could land something.
"Alright," he muttered. "Don't cry about it later."
Ethan's mouth twitched. "Just swing, kid."
Rory moved. A quick step, a sharp jab. Clean, fast.
Ethan slipped aside like Rory had telegraphed the whole sequence five seconds earlier.
"Too open," Ethan said, almost conversational.
Rory clenched his teeth and tried again. A hook this time, powered by irritation more than technique. Ethan ducked under it, pivoted, and Rory felt the air shift as Ethan's hand brushed his shoulder, not a hit, not even close. Just a reminder of where Ethan could have struck him.
"Still too predictable."
Rory's frustration spiked. "Can you not do the running commentary?"
"It helps you learn," Ethan replied.
"It's annoying."
"That too."
Rory huffed, reset his footing, and struck again, faster than he meant to. His fist cut through empty air as Ethan twisted out of reach. The movement was effortless, almost lazy, like Rory was trying to catch smoke.
"Jesus," Rory muttered. "Are you even trying?"
Ethan gave a small, infuriating smile. "Not yet."
Rory's temper flared, just enough to trip something inside him. His next attack came sharper, almost instinctive. He stepped in close and snapped out a punch aimed at Ethan's ribs.
Ethan caught his wrist.
Rory froze.
Ethan hadn't braced. Hadn't shifted. Hadn't even looked like he was exerting effort. He simply caught him, fingers locked around Rory's wrist, steady as a steel clamp.
And Rory felt it, the difference between them. The gulf in experience. The reminder that strength alone never made someone dangerous.
Ethan released him gently. "Better," he said, though his tone suggested Rory had barely scratched the surface.
Rory stepped back, chest tight with something more complicated than frustration, humiliation, maybe, or the sting of not being good enough at something he never asked for.
He snapped out another punch to hide the feeling.
Ethan blocked it with his forearm, guiding Rory's momentum away like water flowing around stone. Rory stumbled a half-step, caught himself, and lunged again.
He stepped into Rory's space with a sudden, precise shift of weight. Their shoulders collided, and before Rory could adjust, Ethan swept his leg from beneath him in a clean, decisive movement. Rory's back hit the mat with a sharp thud that rattled his teeth. Air punched out of his lungs, leaving him staring up at the ceiling in stunned irritation.
Ethan crouched beside him, unbothered and hardly winded. "Now you're starting to listen to your instincts," he said, his tone thoughtful rather than triumphant. "But instincts without discipline get people hurt."
Rory looked away, jaw tight, anger and embarrassment mixing in a way that made his chest burn. "I'm trying."
"I know you are," Ethan said, and the softness in his voice only made Rory feel more exposed. "That's why we're doing this. If you want to use what you have, you need to understand it first."
Rory pushed himself upright, refusing Ethan's offered hand and getting to his feet with a stiffness that betrayed his bruised pride. He dusted chalk and dust from his palms, his pulse still skittering with leftover adrenaline.
"So what now?" he asked, trying to sound more annoyed than uncertain. "I just keep swinging until something magically clicks?"
Ethan rose as well, his expression steady and without judgment. "No. You keep swinging until you learn how to stop yourself. That's the part that matters."
Rory swallowed against the mix of emotions crowding his chest, fear, frustration, determination, a buried need to prove he wasn't a mistake.
The room felt too warm, too bright, every mistake echoing louder than it should. But Ethan's voice, low, patient, unwavering, cut through the noise and pulled Rory's focus back into place.
He drew in a breath, steadied his stance, and said quietly, "Again."
Ethan nodded, already moving back into position, ready to meet him with the same unwavering focus as before.
Rory raised his hands again. His body hummed with a restless current he still didn't know how to channel, but something in him refused to stop. He wasn't going to leave this room feeling like a walking mistake. Not again. Not today.
Ethan watched him with the quiet attentiveness of someone used to assessing danger in half-seconds. He dipped his chin in a wordless cue that Rory read as permission.
Rory moved. A faint shift of weight, a feint to the right, then a sharp pivot that sent him driving left. Ethan reacted instantly, but Rory had already adjusted, stepping in closer than he had before. His fist cut through the air and, miraculously, met solid contact.
Ethan's shoulder bucked from the impact.
The shock of it jolted through Rory in a wave, relief, disbelief, a flicker of pride that warmed his chest before he could stop it. For the first time since this whole mess started, he felt something like possibility bloom under his ribs. He wasn't just flailing in the dark. He had landed a hit. He wasn't helpless.
Ethan grunted softly, rolling his shoulder back with a quick flex of his hand. "Good," he said, and there was no patronising edge to the word. It was real acknowledgement. "That one actually registered."
Rory straightened, unable to hide the small startled lift of his eyebrows. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Ethan's mouth twitched, amusement threading through the steadiness of his expression. "Now do it again."
He straightened, ready to try again, confidence rising with a dangerous edge.
And then he moved too fast.
Not the cautious, measured speed he'd been practicing, this time he pushed harder, letting instinct and exhilaration take the reins. He lunged at Ethan with a burst of power that felt almost intoxicating. His fist sliced through the air with far more force than he intended, and Ethan had to shift quickly, a sharp step rather than the effortless glide he'd used earlier.
Rory's knuckles grazed Ethan's sleeve, and he felt the air tear around his arm with the velocity of the strike. Had that connected fully, it wouldn't have been a glancing blow. It would have been bone-breaking. Skull-cracking.
Ethan caught his wrist, firm, controlled, and Rory felt all that reckless momentum snap to a halt.
"Hey," Ethan said, his voice low, steadying rather than scolding. "Breathe. Look at me."
Rory's pulse hammered in his throat. His hand shook faintly in Ethan's grip, not from effort but from the sudden awareness of what he'd almost done. A strange chill threaded through his chest. He looked at his own arm as though it belonged to someone else, someone dangerous.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" Rory's voice scraped out, rougher than he expected. "I wasn't trying to-"
"I know," Ethan said, releasing him slowly. "You lost the thread for a second. That happens."
Rory swallowed, but the cold weight in his stomach didn't ease. "If that had hit you, I would've-"
"It didn't," Ethan cut in gently. "And you pulled back the second you felt it go wrong. That's the important part."
Rory shook his head, jaw clenching. "I couldn't stop it. It just...happened. I didn't even think."
"That's exactly why we're training," Ethan said. He stepped back only slightly, giving Rory space without withdrawing entirely. "Impulse without control is dangerous. But the fact that you felt the danger at all? That tells me you're not careless. You're aware. You actually give a damn not to hurt someone."
Rory exhaled shakily, a breath that felt too thin. His hands were still trembling. "I could've really messed you up."
"You didn't," Ethan said, his tone firmer now, not unkind but deliberate. "And you need to remember that. Power isn't the problem. Panic is. Shame is. Losing yourself is. You notice when something's off. That's good. That's the part I can teach you to build on."
Rory looked at him, searching for any trace of fear or wariness. There was none. Ethan stood there steady and grounded, as if he trusted Rory more than Rory trusted himself.
The realisation landed with unexpected force.
Ethan wasn't afraid of him.
Not when Rory moved too fast, not when his strength spiked, not when his temper flashed. Ethan met every misstep with patience, every stumble with instruction, and every near-miss with calm.
Rory felt his chest loosen slightly, breath working its way back in.
"Alright," Ethan said, nodding once, slow and reassuring. "Let's reset. We'll take it from the top."
Rory hesitated. The earlier surge of strength still echoed through his muscles, a ghost of motion he wasn't sure he trusted yet. "You sure you want me to?" he asked, half hoping Ethan might reconsider.
"Yes," Ethan replied without hesitation. "I'm right here. You're not going to break me. Try again."
Rory drew in a steadying breath and lifted his hands. He focused on his footing, the weight of his body, the push and pull of the space between them. He waited for an instinct to click into place, something less frantic, less fuelled by frustration.
He moved.
This time it wasn't reckless. It wasn't desperate. He stepped in with a feint that looked sloppy on purpose, a stuttered motion Ethan had already seen from him. Ethan shifted to counter it, predicting the same mistake Rory had made all afternoon.
Which was exactly why Rory didn't make it.
He pivoted sharply and let his momentum travel through his arm in a clean, controlled arc. His fist clipped Ethan's jaw, not enough to injure, but enough to turn Ethan's head.
Ethan actually staggered.
Rory's breath caught. Shock flared through him so fast it felt electric, followed by a burst of wild, startled pride that lit his chest before he could tame it.
"I-shit, I got you," Rory said, stunned.
Ethan's fingers brushed his jaw, and instead of irritation, a slow grin spread across his face. "Yes," he said, sounding almost pleased. "You did."
For a single heartbeat, Rory let the triumph settle, warm, grounding, entirely new.
Then Ethan moved.
He didn't retaliate with force. He stepped in, caught Rory's wrist in one hand and shoulder in the other, and used Rory's own forward momentum to take him off balance. It wasn't violent; it wasn't punishment. It was a clean, efficient takedown, the kind that taught rather than hurt. Rory's back hit the mat, but the impact was cushioned by Ethan's grip easing him down rather than letting him slam into it.
Rory blinked up at the ceiling, breath knocked out of him, but Ethan didn't let go. He crouched beside him, steadying Rory's arm in a way that felt more like guidance than restraint.
"That," Ethan said, calm and sure, "is how you stay in control. If your strength spikes, you redirect. You don't freeze. You don't panic. You use the momentum, not the force."
Rory swallowed, heat rising in his face, not embarrassment, but something far more complicated. The earlier fear of hurting someone eased just a fraction. Ethan trusted him. Ethan wasn't backing away or watching him like a hazard waiting to happen.
Ethan released his arm and sat back slightly. "Ready to get up?"
Rory nodded, letting Ethan pull him to his feet. He brushed the hair from his forehead, heart still thudding with the remnants of adrenaline and something that felt suspiciously like relief.
"You good?" Ethan asked.
Rory nodded again, slower this time. "Yeah. I... I think so."
Rory swallowed, his pulse still uneven. The room felt strangely calmer now, as if the tension between them had settled into something solid and workable. He shifted his weight, chewing on a thought that had been nagging the back of his mind for days. "You said something before," Rory murmured, almost to himself. "About... joining Karmal. If I ever wanted to."
Ethan paused, giving him his full attention. It wasn't pressing or expectant, just steady, patient in a way Rory wasn't used to.
"Is that something you want?" Ethan asked.
Rory's throat tightened. He shrugged, trying to bury how much the question mattered, how much the answer terrified him. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. This is the first place I haven't felt like... a mistake." He forced a crooked smile. "Which is funny, considering the enhancement was kind of one."
Ethan's stance eased. He didn't step closer, didn't crowd him; he simply gave Rory the kind of attention that made it feel like the floor had steadied underneath him.
"What would it involve?" Rory asked. "If I actually did want that?"
A slow grin curved at the corner of Ethan's mouth, not mocking, encouraged. "Well," he said, "that's a whole different conversation."
Rory huffed out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. It felt like he'd opened a door he wasn't sure he was ready to step through, but the air on the other side didn't choke him the way he expected.
Ethan clapped him gently on the shoulder. "You don't have to decide today," he said. "Or tomorrow. But if you want a place where you can learn how to use what you've got you'd fit here. More than you think."
Rory didn't trust himself to reply. A quiet nod was all he managed, but Ethan seemed to understand exactly what that meant.
"Good," Ethan said, walking toward the exit to grab his gear. "We'll talk properly when you're ready."
Rory lingered for a moment, staring at the mat where he'd landed his first real hit. His hand still tingled faintly.
***
Later that night, Ethan stepped into the apartment and let his bag fall beside the door. The glow from the TV spilled across the living room, where Owen and Will were finishing dinner with their plates balanced on their knees. Neither looked away from the screen, but Ethan felt the room clock his arrival all the same.
He headed into the kitchen, pulled a bowl from the cupboard, and threw together something quick. Will shifted his attention over as Ethan leaned against the counter with a fork in hand.
"How's the kid?" Will asked.
Ethan took a moment to answer, choosing his words as he glanced toward the living room. "Good. He made real progress today. You can tell he's trying."
Will raised his brows as Ethan crossed to the couch and sank into the empty space beside him. "Think he'll stick with it?"
Ethan swallowed another bite before replying. "Actually... yeah. I think he might." He paused, then added, "He asked about joining Karmal."
Owen's head snapped toward him. The look wasn't explosive, just a hard, pointed shift that carried far more than words would have. His shoulders set, his jaw locked, and he turned back to the TV without a syllable.
Will raised his brows. "That's a big leap for him. You think anyone upstairs would seriously consider it?"
Ethan set his bowl down and rubbed a hand across his face, already preparing for the fallout. "Sullivan knows who he is."
Both Will and Owen stilled.
Will straightened, all trace of relaxation gone. "Ethan... we agreed that stayed between us. Why would you tell her?"
Ethan met his stare without flinching. "Because she was going to red-band him on the spot and move on. She didn't see potential, she saw a liability. If I hadn't said something, he would've been out the door before he even understood what was happening."
Will shook his head slowly. "So your solution was handing Sullivan the single most dangerous piece of information you have? Ethan, you know exactly what that name means to her. To all of Hector."
"I needed her to understand he wasn't some kid who wandered into a chop shop," Ethan said. "She was ready to write him off. I had to give her something that made her stop and think."
Will let out a disbelieving breath. "You gave her leverage instead."
"It was the only thing that bought him protection," Ethan replied. "She wasn't looking at him as a person until that moment. She was looking at numbers on a page. After I told her, she reconsidered." He swallowed once, choosing his next words. "For better or worse, it means she won't throw him away."
Owen let out a short, sharp laugh, the kind meant to sound dismissive, not emotional. "So that's it? You tell Sullivan he's Atwood's kid and suddenly he's Karmal material?"
Ethan looked over at him, the shift in tone impossible to miss.
Owen folded his arms, posture defensive but voice carefully measured. "I mean... great. Good for him. But let's not pretend the name changes what he actually is."
Will glanced between them, sensing the current in the room.
Owen continued, tone clipped. "He still got enhanced illegally. He still lost control in front of everyone. That doesn't vanish because he happens to share DNA with Robert Atwood."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "It wasn't a loss of control. It was provoked."
"Yeah, sure," Owen said quickly, almost too quickly, the words sharp at the edges. "There's always an excuse for him, isn't there?"
Will raised a brow at that, not at the words, but the bitterness that slipped through.
Owen pressed on, pretending not to notice. "He's unpredictable. He's untrained. And now he's suddenly fast-tracked because Sullivan thinks he's special? Since when do we gamble Karmal resources on some chop-shop kid with a famous surname?"
The last part held a bite of something personal, something Owen didn't want examined too closely.
Ethan leaned back, studying him. "This isn't about resources."
Owen scoffed. "Of course it is. Or did we forget how many times Hector tossed people like him into red-banding without a second thought? But now we're rolling out the welcome mat?" He shook his head, the resentment barely contained. "Feels convenient."
Will exhaled, recognizing the mask for what it was. "Owen..."
But Owen barrelled over him, words growing sharper, faster, the way they did when emotion got too close.
"He doesn't belong here. He's not one of us. And if he screws up again? We're the ones who have to clean it up. Not Sullivan."
It was framed like logic. It sounded like caution. But the heat underneath told the truth: Owen wasn't afraid Rory was dangerous. He was afraid Rory mattered.
Ethan spoke quietly, eyes on him. "What are you actually trying to say?"
Owen stiffened. For a heartbeat, he didn't have an answer, not one he wanted to voice.
Then he shrugged, tone returning to something cold and distant. "I'm saying don't act like he's earned anything yet."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. He wasn't fooled by the shrug, he could see the sharpness under it, the emotion Owen was working hard to bury beneath logic.
When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. "Owen, this isn't about privilege. He didn't choose any of this."
Owen's voice cracked, not loudly, but raw enough that the room sharpened around it. "Neither did I."
No one spoke for a moment. The TV murmured in the background, a faint soundtrack to the sudden, heavy quiet.
Will exhaled and looked toward Ethan. "This is going to get more complicated than any of us planned."
Ethan nodded once, the truth of that settling heavily against his ribs. "Yeah," he said softly. "I know."
Best emotional crisis this chapter?
