Chapter 349: A Little Sparring Time

A dark matte finish of the BMW roared to a quiet purr as Liam pulled through the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate.

The gravel driveway crunched beneath his tires, winding through meticulously manicured hedges before opening up into a sweeping circular courtyard. .

At the center, a tiered stone fountain sprayed misty arcs of water into a wide basin, the sheer scale of the compound radiating the kind of old-money power that didn’t need to shout to be felt.

Liam brought the BMW to a stop right in front of the grand entrance.

The estate’s sprawling neoclassical architecture towered above him, all limestone pillars, tinted glass, and quiet, heavy authority.

He cut the engine, stepped out into the cool morning air, and smoothed down the front of his jacket.

As he closed the driver’s side door, he looked toward the entrance. Standing at the top of the wide granite steps, right beside the towering double doors, was Odessa.

She wore her signature tailored black trousers—creased so sharp they could cut glass—paired with a crisp white button-down and a silk vest.

Her hair was pulled back into a flawless, low knot, her posture stiff and immaculate.

As Liam walked up the steps, Odessa inclined her head with practiced, quiet respect.

"Good morning, Mr. Liam," she said, her tone smooth and measured.

"Morning, Odessa," Liam replied, stepping onto the top landing, his demeanor cool and relaxed.

"How’s everything?"

"Everything is running smoothly, sir," she answered, offering a slight, professional smile. "Miss Elena informed me that you would be arriving around this time."

Liam raised an eyebrow slightly, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Yeah? Where is she?"

"She is currently in her main study," Odessa explained, gesturing vaguely toward the upper east wing of the mansion. "She has several high-level representatives over from the city to finalize a major regional agreement. She requested that you wait comfortably, and she will join you the moment her signatories have finished."

Liam nodded slowly, his jaw setting as he processed the information. ’Of course. Always making moves.’

"Fair enough," Liam said aloud. "Business comes first."

Odessa turned toward the heavy mahogany doors, gesturing gracefully into the interior. "If you will follow me, Mr. Liam, I will show you to the main lounge where you can relax."

"Appreciate it," Liam murmured, stepping past her into the grand foyer.

The interior was staggering—high ceilings draped with crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors that reflected their shadows like dark mirrors, and museum-grade art framing the corridors.

Odessa walked a pace ahead of him, her heels clicking softly on the marble.

They had made it halfway down the main gallery hallway when Liam slowed his pace, a sudden thought striking him. He stopped mid-walk, resting one hand against his hip.

"Hey, Odessa," Liam called out.

Odessa paused instantly, turning around on her heel with fluid grace. "Yes, Mr. Liam?"

"Is Wraith around?" Liam asked, leaning his weight on one leg. "Thought I might go check in on him while Elena’s busy."

Odessa’s expression remained perfectly composed, though a faint glint of knowing acknowledgment flashed in her eyes. "Master Wraith is currently at the open grounds in the back, sir. He is engaged in his morning meditation."

Liam gave a quiet nod. "Take me there instead."

"Right this way, sir," she said, adjusting her route without a second of hesitation.

She led him away from the grand residential wings and down a private, glass-walled corridor that led straight toward the rear of the compound.

As they stepped out through a pair of tall French doors, the enclosed luxury of the mansion gave way to a breathtaking expanse of open land.

The back estate was massive.

Rolling hills of pristine, dark green lawn stretched out so far it looked less like a private backyard and more like an elite golf course.

In the center of the grounds lay a wide, natural-style pond, its dark water still as glass, reflecting the cloudless sky above.

Standing at the edge of the water, positioned on a smooth, flat stone jutting out over the pond, was Wraith.

He was completely still.

Wraith stood on one leg, his bare feet gripping the cold rock, his body stripped down to a pair of loose training pants.

His broad, heavily scarred chest rose and fell in long, imperceptible breaths. Even from fifty yards away, the man looked less like a human being and more like an ancient statue carved from dark granite.

The air around him seemed unnaturally quiet, as if the birds and wind knew better than to disturb his focus.

"I will leave you here, Mr. Liam," Odessa said softly, bowing her head slightly before turning back toward the house.

"Thanks, Odessa," Liam murmured.

Liam didn’t bother trying to walk quietly.

His sneakers crunched over the gravel pathway as he approached the edge of the pond, his footsteps echoing softly in the vast, open space. He stopped a few feet behind the stone outcrop, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the back of Wraith’s head.

Wraith didn’t open his eyes.

He didn’t shift his balance. He didn’t even acknowledge Liam’s presence, remaining frozen in his stance over the water.

Liam smirked faintly, leaning back on his heels. "Must be nice, having time to just stand around and look at water."

Wraith let out a slow, deep exhale through his nose—a sound like heavy bellows.

Without breaking his posture, his deep, gravelly voice cut through the quiet air, carried with a measured tone of respect.

"You walk with a heavy step today, Sir. Liam," Wraith said quietly, his eyes remaining shut. "You are carrying a lot on your mind."

"I got a new opponent," Liam said bluntly, cutting straight past the pleasantries. "Stiles just sent the email."

Liam expected Wraith to ask about the fighter’s weight class, style, or record—the usual protocol before preparing for a sanctioned blood-match.

But Wraith didn’t move an inch. Instead, he simply inhaled slowly, holding the breath in his massive chest before speaking in a low, respectful tone.

"You should go see Madam, sir."

Liam blinked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "What?"

"You should speak with Miss Elena," Wraith repeated, his tone firm yet polite.

Liam let out a breathy, annoyed laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I just told you I got a match assigned, Wraith. Why the hell would I go talk to Elena about my fight circuit?"

Wraith finally broke his stance.

In one fluid, terrifyingly controlled motion, he dropped his lifted leg, spun around on the stone, and landed softly on both feet.

He inclined his head slightly toward Liam, his pale, intense eyes locking onto him with quiet seriousness.

"Because Madam already knows you have a new fight, Mr. Liam," Wraith explained, his deep voice carrying an absolute lack of doubt. "She tracked the assignment before the notification even reached your phone. And she explicitly made it clear that she wants to be the one you come to for information and advice on this matter."

Liam stared at Wraith for a long, quiet second.

The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water—Elena wasn’t just managing her corporate empire; she had her fingers buried deep into Stiles’ underground network, too.

She was keeping tabs on his entire fight schedule behind his back.

Liam let out a heavy, defeated sigh, raising his hand and pressing his palm hard against his face, rubbing his eyes in annoyance.

"Of course she does," Liam muttered into his palm, his voice thick with resignation. "She just can’t leave anything alone."

He dropped his hand, looking back up at Wraith, who was watching him with a respectful, unreadable expression.

"Fine," Liam grunted, giving up the argument. "I’ll go talk to her when her meeting’s done."

Wraith took a step off the stone, stepping onto the soft grass. His massive shoulders squared as he stretched his neck, the joints popping loudly in the quiet morning air.

"Very well, sir," Wraith said. "Though I should inform you... starting tomorrow, your training will be completely different."

Liam paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What does that mean?"

Wraith didn’t answer right away.

He rolled his heavy shoulders forward, his scarred knuckles flexing into broad, dangerous fists. "It means what it means, Mr. Liam. Do not worry about the details just yet. You will find out in due time."

Liam tilted his head, a faint, competitive smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "You’re being awfully cryptic today, Wraith."

"I am merely being realistic, sir," Wraith replied smoothly, stepping closer until he was standing just ten feet from Liam. He looked Liam up and down with an analytical eye. "It has been weeks since your last real fight.

As Madam’s personal driver, my duty is to ensure you are always protected—and capable. Before I construct a new training regimen for you, I want to see if you still have it in you. Liam’s smile widened, a sharp, dangerous glint flashing in his green eyes. The annoyance from earlier vanished, replaced instantly by the familiar, electric itch of a fight.

"Is that a challenge?" Liam asked quietly, dropping his hands from his pockets and letting his shoulders loosen up.

"Consider it an evaluation, Sir, Liam," Wraith said respectfully, snapping his guard up. "Show me if you’ve grown soft."

Without another word of warning, Wraith exploded forward.

For a man his size, Wraith moved with terrifying, unnatural speed. He closed the ten-foot gap in a fraction of a second, his massive right fist driving straight for Liam’s jaw in a heavy, air-splitting jab.

Liam’s instincts took over instantly. He didn’t try to block—blocking a hit from Wraith was like trying to stop a falling tree. Instead, Liam snapped his head back, slipping the punch by a hair’s breadth.

The wind from Wraith’s fist whistled past his cheek.

Liam immediately rolled under Wraith’s follow-up left hook, staying low to the grass, his sneakers digging into the turf for leverage. As Wraith’s arm swung over him, Liam drove his hips forward and threw a lightning-fast counter-cross straight into Wraith’s exposed ribs.

*THWACK*