Petra Ironwood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Petra Ironwood pressed a loaded barbell over her chest and counted reps out loud so Guy would hear her from the porch. She was three hundred pounds of muscle stacked on a five-foot-four frame, and every rep was for him. She wanted to marry him. She had decided that last Tuesday, watching him eat toast, and she had not stopped deciding it since. The barbell clanged onto the rack. Petra sat up, sweat rolling between her chest and her stomach, and shouted toward the house. "Guy! I did forty! You want me to do forty more?" No answer came through the open window. She stood, flexed once for the empty yard, and told herself he was probably busy. He was always busy. That was fine. She would get bigger. Bigger arms, bigger shoulders, bigger everything. Guy liked things that were impressive. She would be impressive enough that he had to look. She was chalking her hands for another set when the gate creaked. A short, thick man stepped into the yard, jaw clenched, a length of pipe held low against his thigh. Tattoos ran down both arms. A scar cut through one eyebrow. Petra had never seen him before. He had the look of someone who had been thinking about her for a long time. "Petra Ironwood," the man said. His voice was flat. "Viktor Krauss. I've come to kill you." She blinked. "Right now? I'm in the middle of a set." "Right now." She glanced at the porch. Still no Guy. She wanted him to see this. She wanted him to see her handle it, so he would understand what he was getting. She rolled her shoulders back, and her traps rose like loaves of bread. Viktor swung the pipe. Petra caught it in her fist and did not move. The pipe bent around her knuckles. Viktor stared at his own hand as if it had betrayed him. She plucked the pipe away and dropped it in the grass. "Guy!" she called, louder now, chest out. "Guy, come see!" Viktor drew a knife. She caught his wrist, lifted him off the ground, and set him down outside the gate like a sack of feed. He landed hard, scrambled up, and did not run. He stood there breathing, staring at her, memorizing her. "I'll come back," he said. "Every day. Until one of us is done." "Okay," Petra said, distracted. The porch was still empty. Guy hadn't come. Guy hadn't even looked. Viktor limped off. Petra stood in the yard with a bent pipe at her feet and a hollow feeling under her enormous ribs. Guy had missed it. All that strength, and he had missed it. She walked back to the barbell and added two more plates. If forty reps didn't bring him to the window, she would do eighty. She would get bigger until he had no choice.