Fox Trap And The Training Room

Craig's shoulders slumped as Cyrus loosened his grip further.

"Are you kidding me? Everyone in the spirit underground knows Kane Ashwood." His voice trembled.

"You've sent half my friends into containment at the BSA. That transfer facility on Fifth Street? Practically has your name on the door."

Kane blinked, genuinely surprised.

"You're notoriously efficient," Craig continued, eyes darting nervously to Cyrus.

"They call you the Fox Trap down in the tunnels. One whiff of your scent and we know it's time to scatter."

Cyrus's chest rumbled with unexpected laughter, his grip on Craig loosening further.

"The Fox Trap?" Cyrus's eyes gleamed with amusement. "How... appropriate."

Kane shot him an irritated glance before turning back to Craig.

"Look, I'm not here for you today." He pulled out his card, pressing it into Craig's clammy palm.

"But let me know if there is any trouble or suspicious activity around here."

Cyrus released Craig entirely, brushing his hand against his expensive pants with distaste.

"You may go," Kane said. "And keep your nose clean."

Craig scrambled like a sewer spirit at sunrise, limbs flailing as he vanished around the corner.

Kane sighed, watching Craig disappear around the corner.

The encounter had soured his snack-buying enthusiasm completely.

Something about leeches always left him feeling vaguely contaminated, like he needed a shower.

"Let's just go home," he muttered, turning to Cyrus. "We can't exactly stroll back in there after—"

He stopped mid-sentence. Cyrus wasn't listening at all.

Kane glanced over his shoulder. The dragon stood several paces away, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in low tones.

His back was turned, and though Kane strained to hear, the words remained frustratingly out of reach.

Kane frowned. Cyrus's posture had changed—shoulders squared, head slightly inclined, the stance he took when making executive decisions.

"Cyrus?" Kane called.

Cyrus looked over and ended his call with a sharp tap, sliding the phone into his pocket.

"We're heading back to the penthouse," he announced, striding past Kane toward the parking lot.

The drive back was unusually quiet, even for Cyrus. Kane fidgeted with his seatbelt, wondering what that mysterious call had been about.

When they arrived at the penthouse, Kane stepped out of the elevator and froze. The living room was filled with neatly arranged shopping bags and boxes.

"What the—"

He approached cautiously, peeking into the nearest bag.

Inside were packages of his favorite honey butter chips, the imported kind he could rarely afford.

Another bag contained trail mix, beef jerky, and those ridiculous sour gummy worms he'd mentioned once in passing.

Beyond the snacks stood boxes containing hiking boots, weather-resistant clothing, and what appeared to be high-end camping gear.

Kane turned to Cyrus, genuinely baffled. "You did this?"

Cyrus shrugged, hanging his coat.

"Tomorrow's expedition required proper preparations. I simply ensured we had what was needed."

Kane surveyed the array of supplies with newfound appreciation.

"Anything I want can be delivered, huh? No kidding."

Cyrus loosened his tie, checking his watch. "The night is still young. You can make your own dinner if you want. I'll be in my training room if you need me."

"Training room?" Kane's head snapped up. "I never noticed a training room in the penthouse."

"That's because you weren't meant to." Cyrus's lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.

"It's behind the wall panel in the hallway. Press the third tile from the right."

Kane shook his head in disbelief.

"First the man cave, then this hidden training room. Any other secret rooms I should know about?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with." Cyrus was already walking away, rolling up his sleeves.

"Feel free to join if you'd like to see how 'adequate' your Bureau training truly is."

The obvious bait set Kane's tail tingling.

He'd spent years training at the Bureau, and dragon or not, he wasn't about to let that comment slide.

"Oh, it's on," Kane called after him.

Kane hauled the bags to the kitchen counter and arranged the snacks in neat piles.

He stripped off his work clothes, pulling on a simple gray t-shirt and black athletic shorts.

Kane found the wall panel Cyrus had mentioned and pressed the third tile. The panel slid open with a whisper-quiet hydraulic hiss.

"Holy—" his eyes widened.

The training room was larger than his entire former apartment.

One wall consisted entirely of mirrors, and another displayed an arsenal of weapons ranging from ancient to modern.

The floor was covered in impact-absorbing mats, with a professional-grade sparring ring dominating the center.

High-tech exercise equipment lined another wall—machines Kane had only seen in exclusive gyms.

A holographic training system projected targets and scenarios in one corner, while another area housed weights that would challenge even the strongest spirits.

Cyrus hung from a steel bar in the center of the room, his powerful body rising and falling with controlled rhythm.

He'd stripped down to just his black training pants, revealing his firm eight-pack.

Lean muscle rippled across his back with each pull-up, the definition of his shoulders and arms speaking to centuries of discipline rather than mere vanity.

Kane stood transfixed. Cyrus's chest shone with a light sheen of sweat, highlighting the contours of his abdomen.

He'd expected Cyrus to be fit, but this was something else entirely.

This wasn't just strength; it was power contained in human form, a reminder of what truly lurked beneath Cyrus's tailored suits.

Cyrus completed another rep before his eyes flicked to Kane in the doorway.

He dropped silently to the floor, not even breathing hard.

"Don't just stand there. Get warmed up." His voice carried the same effortless authority as always.

Kane swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He began jogging around the room's edge, painfully aware of Cyrus's occasional glances.

He had always prided himself on being quick-witted enough to escape most dangerous situations.

Looking at the dragon's physical prowess, he wondered if all his cleverness would be enough to survive whatever training session Cyrus had planned.