I hit hard.
 That’s what I do. Always have. I don’t dance around like Jay. I don’t flip over people’s heads like Kai. I break through shit. Walls, enemies, expectations.
And yeah, that means I don’t pull my punches. Not even in training.
 Especially not with her.

She can handle it. She’s proven that over and over again. Smart. Quick. Tough as hell.
 But today—
Fuck.

We were sparring. Standard drills. Controlled. Supposed to be, anyway. I closed in, aimed for her shoulder—clean hit, nothing fancy.
 And she flinched.

Barely. Just a breath.
 But I fucking saw it.

The way her mouth twitched, the way she froze just half a second too long before resetting her stance. She tried to hide it. Tried to act like it didn’t happen. But I saw it.
 And now I can’t fucking unsee it.

I walked away. Told myself it was fine. That she’d ice it, stretch it out, and be fine by tomorrow. That I didn’t need to say anything. That it wasn’t my goddamn problem.

But it’s hours later, and I’m still thinking about it.
Still hearing that tight breath she sucked through her teeth. Still seeing the flicker of pain she tried to bury. And now I’m pacing the training grounds like some restless asshole who doesn’t know what to do with himself.
 Because the truth is?

I felt something twist in my gut the second she winced.
 Not pride. Not satisfaction.
 Just this ugly, heavy fuckin’ guilt that’s still sitting in my chest like a damn boulder.

She didn’t even say anything. Didn’t complain. Didn’t glare. She just kept going like the stubborn, reckless badass she is.

But I know I hurt her. Even if it was just a little. And that’s the part that’s messing me up. Because I’m not supposed to care. I’m not supposed to feel like this. I’m supposed to be the one who doesn’t hesitate. The one who lands hits and keeps moving forward.

But now? I can’t stop thinking about her shoulder. About whether she’s lying in bed right now pretending it doesn’t sting. Pretending she’s fine so I don’t see any weakness.

And fuck me—I actually want to go check on her. Not for strategy. Not to make sure she’s still good for the next round.
 Just to know. And that scares the shit out of me.

Because if I care this much about one hit…
What the hell does that say about everything else?