Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 165

The Weight of Blood.

Sage

The morning burns away slowly and easily after breakfast, leaving the compound bathed in that clean, golden kind of light that makes everything look softer than it is. We train outside most days now, the field behind the main house has become a makeshift arena, worn down by years of boots, blades, and broken egos. But today, it’s calm. No barking orders, no threats, no fear. Just focus. They’re all lined up in front of me: ten recruits, a mix of men and women, all breathing hard and trying not to show it. T Their stances are good, a little uneven, but better than yesterday. I pace down the line, slow and deliberate, correcting grips, posture, and breathing.

“Ease your shoulders,” I tell one of the girls, a tall redhead with more stubbornness than coordination. “You’re fighting tension, not your opponent.”

She exhales, loosens her stance, and tries again. The blade arcs smoother this time, the balance right.

“There,” I murmur. “That’s it.”

I’m not like the people who trained me. Back then, we were broken down before we were ever built up. Training was a matter of how

much pain you could absorb before your body gave in. Bruises were badges. Blood was expected. Fear was the leash they kept around our

throats. I never wanted that here.

So instead, I built something new, a system that taught control, precision, and pride. You don’t need to destroy someone to make them strong. You just need to show them how not to flinch. I stop beside another recruit, a young man with broad shoulders and nerves in his hands. He’s got talent, but his grip shakes when he parries. “Again,” I say softly. “Slow this time. You’re not chasing speed yet. You’re

learning the rhythm.”

the s

He nods and does as I ask. I watch the motion, the angle of his wrist, the way his focus steadies when he breathes through it. I nod once.

“Better.”

He grins despite himself. “Thanks, ma’am.”

I smirk. “Don’t call me ma’am, kid. Makes me sound old.”

He laughs, and I move on. Every now and then, I catch glimpses of what we’ve built, not just warriors, but people who believe they can be more than what the world made them. They’re rough around the edges, sure, but they learn, and they fight for the right reasons now. It’s a strange kind of pride, the quiet kind that creeps in when I least expect it. When I was their age, I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to fight for something instead of just fighting to survive. I suppose that’s what legacy is fixing the damage before it repeats.

–

By midday, most of them are sprawled out on the grass, sweaty, laughing, comparing bruises. I let them rest. They’ve earned it. I wipe my hands on a towel and grab a bottle of water from the cooler by the fence. That’s when I see Nico walking across the field toward me, a tablet under one arm, his hair sticking up like he’s been fighting sleep and code all morning.

He doesn’t even bother with a greeting. “You know your little protégé broke into my house last night?”

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The Weight of Blood.

I blink, half amused, half unsurprised. “Define broke in.”

He gives me a flat look. “Picked the lock. Woke me up by standing over my bed. Nearly gave me

I take a sip of water. “And?”

“And,” he says, planting his feet in front of me, “he wanted information on a woman. Ricci’s family. Not just her name or what she does,

he wanted to know weird stuff.”

That catches my interest. “Weird how?”

Nico gestures with his free hand, exasperated. “Like what kind of tea she drinks, how she holds a pen, where she keeps her gun. under the pillow, in the kitchen drawer, whatever. It was… unsettling. He sounded like you when you first came around.”

That earns him a grin. “Well, that explains why I like the kid so much.”

Nico glares. “It’s not funny, Sage.”

“It’s a little funny,” I counter.

He exhales sharply. “You know he’s obsessed, right? Like, really obsessed. You might want to have a talk with him before he turns into—”

“Me?” I finish, raising an eyebrow.

Nico pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, exactly that.”

I chuckle, not nearly as worried as he wants me to be. “Relax, Nico. He’s just curious. You were his age once.”

“I was never that curious,” he mutters.

I tilt my head, smirking. “You built a bug in Liam’s phone just to prove he was lying about where he went on weekends.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, realising I’ve got him. He sighs. “Alright, fine. But seriously – what do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing,” I say simply. “Let him learn. Curiosity’s not a crime.”

“It is if it gets him shot,” he mutters.

I shrug. “Then he’ll learn to duck faster.”

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The Weight of Blood.

Nico groans. “You’re mad.”

“Efficient,” I correct.

He gives me a long look before shaking his head. “For the record, I told him I’d get her name and that’s it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a creeper like you and D,” he says, turning to leave.

ليلا

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I can’t help but laugh. “You love us anyway.”

He throws a hand over his shoulder without looking back. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the problem.”

quieter, more deliberate. The kind of quiet

When he’s gone, I sit on the fence rail, watching the recruits run through their drills again. My mind drifts, the rhythm of their movements fading into the background. Diego. He’s not a boy anymore. He’s sharper now that comes right before a storm. There’s a darkness in him, the kind that sits under the surface, patient and calculating. He’s got Connor’s discipline. My curiosity. And something else. Something entirely his own. A shadow that feels familiar. I glance toward the tree line at the edge of the property, and for a second, I swear I see movement, just the hint of a figure watching, waiting. I blink, and it’s gone. But the feeling stays. Maybe Nico’s right. Maybe Diego is becoming something else. Something a little too much like me. And for the first time in

or afraid. a long time, I can’t decide whether to be proud

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