I'm sparring with these guys, and despite it being four against one, they still haven't managed to beat me. Their grunts and frustrated breaths fill the air, but my focus remains sharp. Victor groans from the floor, clutching his side where I landed my last hit.
"Boss, you're real active today," he wheezes, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"You're just weak," I respond dryly, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. My shirt clings to my skin, soaked through with sweat, so I tug it off and toss it aside. The cool air feels good against my chest, but the sudden whistle from Raul catches my attention. I narrow my eyes at him.
"It seems like the consort did a number on your back," Raul says with a grin, motioning to the faint stinging sensation I've been vaguely aware of.
