Kai slid off her back, his legs shaky—not from the lift, but from the sheer existential oddity of being handled like a sack of groceries by a woman who could probably bench-press a refrigerator.
“You okay?” Amber murmured, not breaking character.
When she reached the top, Voss didn’t say cut. He just stood there, mouth slightly open. Kai slid off her back, his legs shaky—not
“Amber,” Voss finally said, “that’s a wrap. But… can you do that again for the B-camera?”
The final shot was the hardest: a single, continuous lift from a crouching start. Amber had to rise from a squat, Kai clinging to her back in a piggyback style, then transition him to a side carry while climbing a three-step ramp. No cuts. No do-overs. He just stood there, mouth slightly open
Amber DeLuca wasn’t just an athlete; she was a force of nature. At six feet two inches and two hundred forty pounds of meticulously carved muscle, she moved through the world like a benevolent earthquake. Her stage name, “Amber Steel,” was a joke among her fans—because everyone knew steel eventually fatigued. Amber never did.
“Observant,” Amber replied, cracking her neck. “Don’t worry. I’ve lifted truck tires heavier than you.” Amber had to rise from a squat, Kai
Amber hooked her hands under Kai’s armpits and hoisted him to his feet as if he were a child. Then, without a grunt, she pivoted, scooped one arm under his knees and the other behind his back, and cradled him against her chest. His head rested naturally against the curve of her deltoid.