PREVIEW
... ss the flagstones.
The scent of cut grass filled the air, mixing with the metallic tang of sweat.
Viktor's shirt clung to his back, dark with perspiration, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he unleashed a rhythmic storm of punches into the training dummy.
Each strike was landed with purpose. His breath came heavy — focused and determined. His rusty red hair swayed with every burst of movement.
On the sidelines, Irina sat quietly on a bench, holding a water bottle ...
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