I blinked at him, a little surprised. "Spar? Now?"
He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Why not? You've been improving a lot lately. Let's see how you handle yourself."
I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," he said smoothly. "Unless you're scared of losing."
That did it. My lips curved into a defiant grin. "Alright, fine. Let's see if I can knock you down a peg."
The training ground in Logan's home was spacious, with thick mats covering the floor and weapons mounted neatly on the walls. The air was cool, the faint scent of leather and metal lingering.
We began with a few warm-ups before moving into the sparring. Logan moved with the kind of effortless grace that came from years of training. He was quick, calculated, always a step ahead. But I wasn't the same inexperienced fighter I'd been months ago.
I ducked under his jab and aimed a kick at his side. He blocked it easily, his hand catching my ankle before I could retreat.
