Bound to my Enemy Chapter 131

"One rule."

His eyebrow lifts slightly.

"This is going to be strictly professional."

A hint of amusent flickers across his face.

"I don’t want your hands on ," I continue firmly.

He studies for a second, then he smirks... just enough to make want to shove him.

"Strictly professional," he repeats.

"Yes."

"Understood."

I narrow my eyes.

"You’re smirking."

"I’m agreeing to a wat you said."

"Stop smirking at . Don’t try to patronize "

"Start sparring."

God.

I move into position across from him, feet shifting automatically into the stance Aaron drilled into earlier.

Zane mirrors loosely.

But there’s a huge difference between our stances.

Mine is careful.... His is effortless, like he knows he is going to beat my ass either ways

For a mont neither of us moves.

Then he gestures slightly with two fingers.

"Whenever you’re ready."

Oh, I am ready.

I lunge first.

A quick forward step and a straight strike aid for his shoulder.

But Zane moves before my arm even fully extends, he shifts sideways and my strike cuts through empty air.

I pivot imdiately, swinging again.

This ti toward his ribs. He blocks it.

"You re being too predictable," he says calmly.

"Oh, shut up."

I step in again, faster this ti.

I strike again but he blocked it agian.

Turn and try to kick him this ti but he catches the kick against his forearm and nudges my leg aside like it weighs nothing.

"You’re rushing," he says.

"I’m attacking."

"You’re rushing."

I swing again just to shut him up. He ducks slightly then suddenly he’s behind

I spin around imdiately.

"Don’t touch ," I warn.

He lifts his hands again briefly.

"Relax."

"I an it."

"Then stop leaving openings."

I grit my teeth and go at him again.

This ti I focus and strike. Aaron’s voice echoes in my head about balance and timing.

Zane blocks the first hit and dodges the second but the third one....

My palm connects heavily with his shoulder

He pauses, looks down at the spot where I hit him then back at .

"Well," he says.

"See?" I snap. "I can fight."

His mouth curves slightly.

"That wasn’t fighting."

My eyes narrow.

"That," he continues, settling back into position, "was jus luck."

I take a step forward again.

"Then let’s see how lucky I get."

Zane stands across from , tall and completely relaxed, like this whole thing is just another normal part of his day. Like sparring with soone who’s still pissed at him isn’t even slightly risky.

It irritates . Actually... everything about him irritates right now.

My fists tighten.

"Are we doing this or not?" I snap.

Zane tilts his head slightly, studying .

"Whenever you’re ready."

God, I want to punch that calm expression right off his face

Fine. I move first.

Lucas’ voice pops into my head before I even think about it, I rember when he used to train when I was a kid.

Don’t telegraph your punch.

Too late.

My first swing is fast but sloppy. Zane catches my wrist before it can land and redirects the motion easily, like I’m a kid throwing a tantrum instead of a grown woman trying to hit him.

I yank my hand back imdiately.

"Again," he says.

I glare at him.

"You could at least pretend you’re not bored."

His mouth twitches slightly.

"I’m not bored."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Because you look like you’re teaching a five-year-old how to tie their shoes."

That almost earns a real smile out of him.

"Then surprise , little spit fire "

I try again and this ti I move quicker.

Left hand first ..... a feint ..... then I pivot and swing with my right.

My knuckles connect with his ribs. Its not a powerful hit, I know that. But it’s enough that I feel the impact travel up my arm.

Zane exhales sharpl and my eyes widen.

"Oh," I say breathlessly. "Look at that."

Zane looks down at .

Then back up.

"Again."

Sothing in his voice has changed slightly.

Good.

I circle him slowly now, rembering pieces of what Lucas used to drill into my head in the backyard years ago.

Use your feet. Don’t just swing. Think.

Zane watches every movent like he’s reading a book.

I move first again.

This ti I aim for his shoulder but he blocks it so I pivot imdiately and jab toward his side again.

My fist connects and Zane lets out a low grunt this ti.

Satisfaction sparks in my chest.

"Not bad," he mutters.

I grin despite myself.

"Careful," I say. "You might bruise."

That’s when I really start going after him. Every hit I throw carries a piece of the anger I’ve been holding since yesterday.

My fists fly, som land, mst don’t.

Zane blocks a few, sidesteps others, but he’s clearly holding back. I can feel it in the way he moves ... careful, like he’s constantly asuring how much force he uses.

And that annoys even more.

"Stop going easy on !" I snap.

"I’m not."

"Bullshit!"

I swing again. Harder.

My fist connects with his chest this ti.

Zane actually grunts.

That tiny victory sends a surge of adrenaline through .

So I go harder, I barely register the exact mont things shift.

One second I’m moving toward him, throwing another punch and the next.....

Zane catches both my wrists and suddenly I’m not in control of the distance anymore.

He moves faster than I expect. My back hits his chest before my brain fully processes what just happened.

My arms are trapped in one of his hands, pinned in front of while his other arm braces around my waist, locking in place.

I freeze not because it hurts but because it’s impossible to move.

"Let go," I snap imdiately, struggling.

He doesn’t.

"Relax," Zane mutters behind , his breath still slightly uneven from the sparring.

"Relax?" I twist again. "You just freaking pinned !"

"Yes."

"That’s cheating!"

"That’s fighting. It’s not always fair "

I try to yank my wrists free but it doesn’t work.