Lorraine's POV
I didn't know how much time had passed.
Days bled into each other like the sweat and blood dripping off my skin, no mercy, no breaks, no excuses.
Astrid Voss was a tyrant in training gear. She didn't smile. She didn't encourage. She didn't offer words like "good job" or "you're improving." Just barked orders with that cold, commanding voice that could slice through flesh and steel.
We trained in the ruins of the feral dormitory, my home, my graveyard, my battleground. The same place where over thirty of us once lived. Now it was just me. Just my ghosts.
And Astrid.
She made me start each morning before the sun even broke the horizon. No time to think. No time to breathe. Just move.
"Again!" she shouted as I collapsed on the dusty concrete from the fifth round of pushups, my arms shaking violently, blood dripping from my palms where the skin had split. "You fall again and I'll make you crawl until you bleed out."
I pushed up.
I didn't have a choice.
