Fated To Not Just One But Three novel Chapter 106

Chapter 106: Cut

Lennox's POV

She stood before me with folded arms, clearly not happy that I was there.

"Why are you here?" she asked, sounding so irritated.

I shrugged, pushed back my emotions, and gave her a hard expression. "Why can't I be here? This is the training field, not your room."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, her glare sharp. "Then train," she snapped, turning away from me and falling back into her stance. "Don't just stand there gawking."

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. "Your steps are sloppy," I said coldly.

She froze. Slowly, she turned to face me again, her expression unreadable. "What?"

"Your left leg drags on the pivot. Your form's weaker than usual," I said, trying to sound calm, like I wasn't suffocating on everything that happened minutes ago. "If you're going to act like a warrior, then fight like one."

Her lips curled into a furious smirk. "Oh, really?" she asked, voice dripping with anger. And before I could brace myself, she snatched a training knife from the weapons rack beside her and threw it.

Fast. Sharp.

I caught it—barely.

The force behind it was no joke.

"You've got a mouth on you today," I said, swinging the blade, tasting it.

Without a word, she attacked me.

She didn't hesitate, not for a second. Her attacks came at me in a blur of movement, and though I blocked the first few strikes, I wasn't in the fight. I was distracted by her—the fire in her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the grace of every furious hit.

She spun, ducked low, and the next thing I knew, her blade sliced clean across my arm.

I hissed in pain, stepping back and looking down at the blood seeping through my sleeve.

She smirked. "Maybe you should spend less time fucking and more time training," she sneered.

I clenched my jaw, her words hitting harder than the blade.

She wasn't done.

"My mistake. Maybe if you weren't so busy with Anita, you wouldn't be getting your ass handed to you. Even your brothers are better fighters, and they've never slacked the way you have. And you're the eldest?"

Those words. Those exact damn words.

They sliced deeper than the wound on my arm.

My vision blurred with rage, memories replaying in my head.

Pain surged. Old pain. Deep wounds I thought were long buried were reopened.

I snapped.

With a growl, I struck back, faster and harder than before. Our blades clashed. Sparks flew. She fought back with everything she had, but this time I didn't hold back.

My blade came down in a quick, controlled arc—and sliced across her arm.

She stumbled back, clutching the cut.

The moment it happened, regret surged through me like ice water.

"Olivia—" I stepped forward.

"Don't," she said, her voice low but tight with pain.

Her eyes were wide—not with fear, but with disbelief.

And disappointment.