The tension in the basement gym crystallized into perfect silence. Every pair of eyes locked on our mat as Braxton ambled toward the center with the casual indifference of a man heading to his couch for a nap, not preparing to spar with the top-ranked prospect at NVA. His unlit cigarette bobbed between his lips as he rolled his neck.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling a flicker of arrogance spark in my chest. After tearing apart that gorilla construct in the simulation, this disheveled, half-asleep instructor shouldn't pose much of a threat. The memory of that raw power flowing through my veins fueled my confidence. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"You sure about this, Miller?" I wiggled my fingers suggestively, letting a hint of thermal energy dance between them. "These aren't exactly for show. I wouldn't want to accidentally take an arm off. Students probably need to fill out paperwork for that kind of thing."
