Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 120

Starting my week as if nothing had transpired felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on my chest. Mona, ever the optimist, tried to provide some comfort. “Valentin will come to see the error of his ways soon,” she promised, her voice laced with hope. But deep down, I was skeptical. The way he had looked at Amara, wild and untamed, left little room for optimism.

The thought of them together haunted me, a recurring nightmare that played in my mind like a twisted film. It always began innocently enough—just me and Valentin, caught up in a passionate embrace in the steamy confines of the showers. The reflection in the mirror offered a tantalizing view of our bodies, my gaze alternating between my own face and Valentin’s chiseled form. But as I leaned back, lost in the throes of pleasure, I caught sight of someone else in that reflective surface.

Bella’s face grinned back at me, her sickly sweet smirk sending shivers down my spine as she writhed beneath Valentin’s touch. I felt like a ghost, trapped behind the glass, pounding my fists against it in a desperate attempt to reach him, to make him aware of my presence. But my efforts were in vain; he was oblivious to my anguish.

Each morning, I awoke drenched in sweat, the early sun peeking through my window, a stark reminder of the nightmares that plagued my nights.

This relentless cycle did nothing to improve my sour mood, especially as I prepared for another grueling training session with Valentin and Thorne. The tension between us was palpable; Valentin could barely meet my gaze, his eyes avoiding mine like I was a ghost from his past. The only small comfort I found was that Amara had been barred from our training sessions, at least for now.

Maximus, my relentless coach, was pushing me harder than ever during our sessions. He had declared that I had mastered the basics well enough to progress to more advanced techniques. This meant I was now expected to topple, twist, and leap over him as he swung his fists, despite the fact that he towered over me by a foot.

By the time Friday night rolled around, I was utterly spent. The previous night had granted me a mere two hours of sleep, and I had fueled my day with nine cups of coffee, leaving me jittery and half-awake. I almost wished Maximus had opted for an outdoor session, where the fresh air might have invigorated me.

“Today, we’re going to work on the spinning hook kick,” Max instructed, his voice steady as I stifled a yawn. “It’s a Taekwondo move that allows you to channel your entire body weight into a powerful kick.”

He stepped in front of a training dummy, demonstrating with precision. He took a single step forward, then, with a fluid motion, spun and unleashed a kick that sent the dummy flying across the gym with a resounding thud.

I blinked in disbelief. “You expect me to do that?”

“In an ideal world, yes,” Maximus replied, casually rolling his shoulder with a nonchalant shrug.

“And in what universe am I going to find that much space against an opponent?” I shot back, my tone dry and skeptical.

“An ideal one, clearly,” he replied, moving to drag the dummy back into position in front of me. “Or perhaps when your back is turned to your opponent. Or when you’re surrounded.”

“Right,” I muttered, dropping into a defensive stance. “What’s next?”

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