Contractually Yours, Alpha by Giftemmy

Chapter 580

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Two

"Let the fight begin!" the announcer's voice rang out.

Derek took his time, his watchful eyes never straying from me. Most men make the mistake of underestimating me in a fight–it always gives me the upper hand. But not Derek. He saw me as an equal, the only obstacle standing between him and the power he must have dreamt of.

I walked up to the weapon stand. Guns, wolfsbane, and silver were forbidden in challenges like this-fighters had to rely on skill and strength, and not luck.

I picked up two daggers, one for each hand.

Derek's fingers brushed over an axe, and I expected him to take it. A brutal weapon, but heavy-one that would have given me an advantage. Instead, to my surprise, he chose a sword.

The smirk on his face told me he knew exactly what I had been thinking.

We circle each other slowly; I wait for him to strike, but he doesn't make the move, so I do.

I slashed at him with my daggers, but he blocked every strike with ease before launching his own attack. I dodged, but there was no time to savor the small victory-he was already coming at me again. For someone his size, he was shockingly fast.

I dodged once more, but not fast enough. The tip of his sword sliced through my leather, cutting into my skin.

He drew first blood.

in support. He never took his eyes off me. Now gripping his sword with

I attacked.

his chest, but at the last second, I slid beneath him, knocking him off his feet. I raised my dagger to strike, but he drove his foot into

my hips forward, breaking his grip, and rolled us over, forcing him beneath me. I slashed at him, but with a sudden burst of strength, he shoved me away, sending me flying. I landed on my feet-barely. One of

second, I charged, slamming him

thrust, I bury my dagger into

But he only smirks.

skull, and I crash onto the ground, landing hard, this

dagger from his stomach and tosses

already

where I had stabbed him. At the last second, I rolled away, my d digging into the dirt. Grabbing a fistful of sand and grass, I

my leg, landing a brutal kick to his face. A tooth flew from his mouth, and his sword clattered to the

I lunged for it.

1/2

Hundred

just as my fingers brushed the hilt, searing pain tore through my

out a cry, reaching for my back. The smell of my blood filled

stood, his claws extended and dripping with my blood,

was

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