Chapter 2

At four in the morning, the shrill alarm tore through the darkness.

I threw off my blanket.

The muscles in my thighs and abdomen screamed with pain, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out.

In the darkness, I pulled on the oversized workout clothes that had already faded from endless sweat and strapped on my knee supports.

Nearly three months had passed since I'd grabbed Julian's hand on that empty court and said, "Deal."

During those three months, that lunatic had dragged me straight through hell.

"Move! Are your legs made of lead? My grandma could push herself around in a wheelchair faster than you!"

Julian rode beside me on an old bicycle, stopwatch in hand, mercilessly shouting into the cold morning air.

I gasped for breath, sweat pouring into my eyes and stinging like hell.

Every morning, without exception, I ran six miles cross-country with extra weight strapped to me.

Sandbags were tied around my ankles. Every step felt like a battle against gravity itself.

"Shut up…"

I forced the words through clenched teeth and kept my eyes on the streetlights ahead, pushing myself to move faster.

Julian wasn't just sharp-tongued. He was a completely insane coach.

He took over my conditioning and completely rebuilt my diet.

All high-calorie and junk food was banned.

In their place came boiled chicken breast, broccoli, and a specially formulated protein shake that tasted disgusting enough to make me sick.

During the first week, I spent almost every day vomiting and crying.

My heavy body turned even the most basic exercises into torture.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Blair's condescending face and Liam's fake smile.

That fury, the need to tear everything apart, became my only fuel.

"Stop." Julian clicked the stopwatch.

I collapsed onto the grass like a pile of wreckage.

He tossed an electrolyte drink into my arms. "Thirty seconds faster than yesterday. You're not completely hopeless."

He turned away. "Get up. Court. A thousand swings."

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself upright with trembling arms.

I could feel it. As painful as the process was, my body was changing.

The thick layer of fat was disappearing, and the muscle underneath was slowly waking up.

Hours later, I squeezed myself into an extremely oversized hoodie and carried a pathetic plate of plain boiled eggs and vegetable salad through the noisy school cafeteria.

Julian had given me strict orders: until the tryouts, no one was allowed to notice the changes in my body.

I kept my head down and headed for an empty seat in the corner.

But that disgusting voice still found me.

"Well, well. If it isn't our future Grand Slam champion, Talia."

Liam carried a plate of fries and a double cheeseburger and swaggered over to sit across from me.

He looked at the food on my plate and laughed exaggeratedly. "Heard you've been running around the track every day. Give it up, Talia. You can't beat genetics."

He pushed his tray toward me. "Here. Have some fries. And while you're at it, do my calculus homework. Maybe I'll ask Blair to go easy on you tomorrow and make you pick up fewer balls."

Several boys nearby immediately burst into shameless laughter like his personal entourage.

I set down my fork and looked calmly at Liam.

Two months ago, his proximity alone would've made my heart race. His teasing would've made me lower my head in embarrassment.

Now, looking at his face only made me feel disgusted.

"Liam." My voice was cold as ice.

"What? Finally come to your senses?" Liam raised an arrogant eyebrow.

I stood up, grabbed the greasy fries and ketchup-smeared burger from in front of him, and in full view of everyone flipped my wrist.

The food landed squarely on Liam's limited-edition AJ sneakers with a dull thud. Ketchup and melted cheese slid down the white shoes like mud.

The entire cafeteria fell silent.

Liam stared for two seconds.

Then he shot to his feet, face bright red, veins standing out on his forehead. "You fat bitch! Are you insane?! Do you have any idea how much these cost?!"

He raised his hand as if he was about to hit me.

I didn't back down. Instead, I stepped closer and fixed him with a cold stare.

"Call me that again. I dare you."

I glanced at the mess on the floor and gave a contemptuous snort.

"And your calculus homework? Save it for cleaning your shoes." I leaned closer. "Don't mess with me again. Next time, it'll be the whole tray in your mouth."

I walked out of the cafeteria without looking back, leaving Liam's furious shouting behind me.

The moment I pushed through the doors, cold air rushed into my lungs.

My fingertips were still trembling. But it wasn't fear.

It was the rush of adrenaline.

Backing down wouldn't earn me respect. With people like them, only absolute toughness worked.

One day remained until the tryouts.

The next day, in Julian's basement, I took off my heavy hoodie and stepped onto the scale.

The numbers flashed rapidly before settling.

I stared at the display, and my eyes suddenly burned.

Julian leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

For the first time, there was unmistakable approval in those usually mocking eyes.

"Nice work, monster."

He tossed me a brand-new black tennis outfit, tailored close to the body. "Tomorrow, go take back what's yours."

I took the outfit and looked at myself in the mirror.

Three months. Three months of hell.

The excess weight was gone, replaced by strong, defined muscle.

My jawline was sharper. My eyes no longer held even a trace of weakness.

Only the ruthless focus of someone ready to tear down her prey.