Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 131.

"One rule."

His eyebrow lifts slightly.

"This is going to be strictly professional."

A hint of amusement flickers across his face.

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

He studies me for a second, then he smirks... just enough to make me 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 me. Don’t try to patronize me"

"Start sparring."

God.

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

Zane mirrors me 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 moment 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 aimed for his shoulder.

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

I pivot immediately, swinging again.

This time toward his ribs. He blocks it.

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

"Oh, shut up."

I step in again, faster this time.

I strike again but he blocked it agian.

Turn and try to kick him this time 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 me

I spin around immediately.

"Don’t touch me," I warn.

He lifts his hands again briefly.

"Relax."

"I mean it."

"Then stop leaving openings."

I grit my teeth and go at him again.

This time 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 me.

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

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

My fists tighten.

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

Zane tilts his head slightly, studying me.

"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 remember when he used to train me 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 immediately.

"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 me, little spit fire "

I try again and this time 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 me.

Then back up.

"Again."

Something in his voice has changed slightly.

Good.

I circle him slowly now, remembering 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 movement like he’s reading a book.

I move first again.

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

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

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 measuring how much force he uses.

And that annoys me even more.

"Stop going easy on me!" I snap.

"I’m not."

"Bullshit!"

I swing again. Harder.

My fist connects with his chest this time.

Zane actually grunts.

That tiny victory sends a surge of adrenaline through me.

So I go harder, I barely register the exact moment 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 me while his other arm braces around my waist, locking me in place.

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

"Let go," I snap immediately, struggling.

He doesn’t.

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

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

"Yes."

"That’s cheating!"

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

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