Chapter 99
Ivan's POV
The next day, we started sparring.
Dad assigned me as her training partner to test what she'd learned over the past two weeks. Honestly, I was nervous. Not because I was afraid she couldn't beat me, but because I was afraid I'd hurt her by accident. After all, I was much stronger than her—one careless move could injure her.
"Don't hold back," Dad said coldly from the sidelines. "The enemies she'll face won't go easy on her just because she's female."
I nodded and set my stance. Chloe stood across from me, eyes focused, showing no sign of nerves. Her stance was textbook—center of gravity low, hands guarding her front, like a leopard ready to pounce.
"Begin," Dad commanded.
I struck first, throwing a straight punch at her face. She dodged to the side, using her elbow to block my follow-up. Clean, efficient movements with no wasted flourish.
I picked up speed, throwing a series of punches. She weaved left and right, occasionally finding openings to counterattack.
But I could feel her stamina draining fast. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing grew labored.
I hesitated for a split second, and the force behind my next punch lessened without my meaning it to.
That split second—she seized it.
She suddenly rushed forward, dropped low and slipped between my legs, spun around and swept my legs out from under me. I lost my balance and hit the ground. Before I could react, she was straddling me, one hand at my throat, the other fist hovering above my face.
"Give up?" she asked breathlessly, but her eyes gleamed with victory.
I stared at her blankly, my mind completely blank.
Up close, her lashes were long, and those amber eyes reflected my face. Sweat rolled down her cheek and dripped onto my chest, scalding hot, making my heart pound like a drum.
"Ivan held back," Dad's voice shattered the strange atmosphere.
Chloe froze, then climbed off me, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. I got up too, rubbing my nose, my face burning.
"Don't hold back next time," she said, a note of dissatisfaction in her voice. "I need real sparring, not theater."
"Okay," I nodded, but couldn't meet her eyes.
That evening, I brought ointment to her room. When I knocked, my palms were slick with sweat.
"Come in," her voice called from inside.
I pushed the door open and saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to apply ointment to the wounds on her back but unable to reach them.
"Need help?" I asked.
She glanced up at me, hesitated, then nodded.
I walked over and took the ointment from her hand. She turned around, her back to me. My hands trembled slightly as I carefully squeezed out the ointment and applied it to the wounds on her back. Her skin was hot, her muscles tense with pain. I tried to be as gentle as possible, afraid of hurting her.
"Why are you pushing yourself so hard?" I couldn't help asking. "You're an Alpha's daughter. Why come here and suffer like this?"
She was silent for a long time, so long I thought she wouldn't answer.
"If it's hard to talk about, you don't have to," I said.
"No, it's fine," she said softly. "You'll find out eventually anyway."
Then she told me everything—about the political marriage, about the bet with her father, about the hunting trial.
"I haven't awakened my wolf spirit yet," she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. "But I have to compete with an Alpha heir to see who can bring down the biggest prey. Absurd, right?"
My heart sank.
Without a wolf spirit, she was supposed to compete against an Alpha heir? That was suicide.
"Are you insane?" The words burst out. "That's impossible—"
"I know," she cut me off, turning to look at me with terrifyingly calm eyes. "But I don't have any other choice. I'd rather die in the hunting grounds than marry someone I don't love and spend the rest of my life locked in a cage as a breeding tool."
Her gaze left me speechless.
There was no fear in it, no despair—only a kind of resolute calm. Like someone who'd already made peace with the worst-case scenario and found a kind of liberation in it.
"You're going to die," I heard myself say in a hoarse voice.
"Maybe," she smiled, and there was a tragic beauty in that smile. "But at least I'll die for myself, not live for someone else."
In that moment, I felt something slam into my heart.
"She's going to win," I heard Zeus say in my head. "This girl deserves respect."
Yeah, she deserved respect.
And she deserved... more.
I looked at her, suddenly wanting to tell her I'd help her, that she wasn't fighting alone. But the words stuck in my throat.
What right did I have to say that? I was just a rogue who couldn't even see my own future clearly. What gave me the right to make her promises?
"I'll do everything I can to help you," I finally managed. "Over the next two weeks, I'll teach you everything I know."
She looked at me, surprise flickering in her eyes before transforming into gratitude.
"Thank you," she said softly.
That night, after I left her room, I stood in the hallway for a long time.
Moonlight spilled through the window onto the floor. I stared at my own shadow, my head full of her face.
"You're in love with her," Zeus said.
"I know," I answered.
This time, I didn't deny it.