The morning sun was brutal. No amount of sunscreen can fully protect a vampire from its harsh rays.
But Matt welcomed it. It was bound to be a quiet day.
He stood in the center of the training yard, shirtless, sweat already beading on his shoulders despite the early hour. The steel rod was in his hand—familiar weight, familiar balance—but today it felt like a lie. A human weapon for a human fighter.
He was neither.
He had been neither for longer than he knew.
The training dummies stood in a row against the far wall—stuffed with straw, wrapped in leather, their blank canvas faces staring at nothing. Matt attacked them one by one, the rod blurring through the air, each strike harder than the last. Straw burst from split seams. Leather tore. Wooden frames cracked.
It wasn't enough.
