Seduced by My Trainer Next Door

I dropped the last box on my living room floor and wiped the sweat off my forehead. Three days in Sage Valley and I was finally starting to feel like this place might actually work out. The apartment was tiny compared to my LA place, but the rent was literally half the price. Plus, the mountain view from my bedroom window was definitely going to make for some killer content.

My phone buzzed with Instagram notifications. My followers were already asking when I'd start posting from my new location. "Soon," I'd been telling them. I just needed to find the right spots first.

I pulled up my laptop and started researching local gyms. Most of the chain places looked boring and sterile. Then I found something interesting.

Carter Family Fitness. Five-star reviews across the board, but weirdly, almost no photos. The few pictures showed basic equipment and a house-looking building. One review caught my attention: "Best training I've ever had. Rex will push you to your limits, but you'll thank him later." Another said: "Stella's attention to detail is incredible. She'll perfect your form even if it kills you."

Even if it kills you? That was dramatic. But the passion in these reviews was exactly what I was looking for. Authentic, family-owned, real results.

My phone pinged with a DM notification. Instagram.

@JaxonCarter_PT: Hi Maya! Saw you moved to Sage Valley. We'd love to collaborate with you at our family gym.

I nearly dropped my phone. How did he already know I was here?

I clicked on his profile and my breath caught. This guy was gorgeous. Like, seriously gorgeous. Dark brown hair, green eyes that seemed to look right through the camera, and a body that belonged in fitness magazines. His bio was simple: NASM Certified Trainer | Carter Family Fitness | Helping you become your strongest self.

His posts were all professional training content. No shirtless selfies, no thirst traps. Just pure fitness education and client transformations. It was refreshing after dealing with LA fitness influencers who cared more about their abs than actual health.

But something felt off. He was too perfect. Too good-looking. In my experience, guys who looked like that usually knew it.

Stop being paranoid, Maya. This was exactly the kind of opportunity I'd moved here for.

I typed back: Hi! Thanks for reaching out. I'd love to check out your gym. When would be good?

His response came back instantly: How about tomorrow afternoon? 3 PM? I can give you a tour and we can discuss a potential partnership.

Perfect. Send me the address?

The location he sent was literally next door. Like, right next to my apartment complex. How had I not noticed a gym there? I pulled up Google Maps. The satellite view just showed a regular house with a big backyard.

Okay, slightly weird. But maybe they converted their home? Family businesses were often like that. Plus, it would be super convenient for filming content.

I confirmed our meeting and spent the rest of the evening unpacking and planning tomorrow's outfit. Something cute but athletic. Professional but approachable.

By 11 PM, I was finally ready for bed. I'd been running on pure adrenaline since the move, and exhaustion was hitting hard. I brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas, and crawled under my covers.

That's when I heard it.

"YOU'RE WORTHLESS! DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY!"

I bolted upright. The voice was loud, angry, and coming from next door. The Carter house.

"PUSH THROUGH THE PAIN! NO MERCY!"

My heart started racing. What the hell was happening over there?

Then came another voice, female but just as intense: "Don't stop! Feel the burn! Perfect form! DEEPER!"

I grabbed my phone and checked the time. 11:07 PM. Who worked out this late? And why did they sound so... violent?

The voices continued for another few minutes, then went quiet. I was just starting to relax when new sounds started.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Hitting sounds. Like someone punching something. Or someone.

Then came the worst part: a man's voice, groaning in pain, followed by what sounded like genuine agony.

"FIGHT BACK! HIT ME HARDER!"

Oh my God.

I sat frozen in bed, listening to what sounded like someone getting beaten up. The groaning got worse. More desperate. More painful.

Was this some kind of fight club? Underground boxing?

My mind started spiraling. That perfect, too-good-to-be-true Jaxon had messaged me right after I moved in. He knew exactly where I lived. And tomorrow he wanted me to come to his "family gym" which was apparently just his house where people got beaten up at midnight.

The sounds continued for another twenty minutes. Hitting, groaning, shouting. Sometimes multiple voices at once.

This was definitely not normal workout sounds.

I grabbed my phone, ready to call 911. But then I hesitated. What was I going to say? "Hi, my neighbors are loud?" I didn't actually see anything happening. Maybe they were just really intense night owlers?

But those groans sounded so real. So painful.

My phone lit up with a notification.

@JaxonCarter_PT: Hope you're settling in well. Can't wait to show you our place tomorrow. Sweet dreams 😊

I stared at the message. The timing felt sinister now. He'd sent this right in the middle of whatever was happening next door.

Sweet dreams. Was that some kind of threat?

I screenshot the message and scrolled back through his profile, looking for red flags I'd missed. But everything still looked normal. Professional. Clean.

The sounds from next door finally stopped around midnight. I lay awake for another hour, jumping at every small noise.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe they really were just night trainers with questionable methods. Lots of serious athletes trained late. And those reviews did mention intense coaching.

But something in my gut told me this was bigger than unconventional training methods.

I pulled up my text thread with my best friend back in LA.

Me: Girl, I think my hot neighbor might be running an underground fight club

Sofia: LOL what? It's been 3 days and you're already finding drama?

Me: I'm serious. I heard people getting beaten up next door. And tomorrow I'm supposed to tour their "gym"

Sofia: Maya... maybe just listen to true crime podcasts like a normal person instead of living in one?

She was probably right. I had a tendency to let my imagination run wild. It came with the creative territory.

But those sounds had been real. And that perfectly timed message from Jaxon felt way too coincidental.

I set my phone down and tried to close my eyes. Tomorrow I'd find out what Carter Family Fitness was really about.

Hopefully I'd still be alive to tell the story.