19

Kit’s POV

Letting out a groan of frustration, I duck out of Alpha Tate’s reach and throw up my arm to block his kick, wincing as it makes contact with my elbow.

“Keep your arms up!”

“I am!”

I practically spit back at him, raising my sore arms higher and leaning backwards to avoid another punch, then taking one more step back…and slipping in a pool of my own sweat, falling hard on my ass against the mat.

With another low groan, I struggle onto my knees, my palms flat on the mat in front of me.

I don’t want to get back up.

Everything hurts and I am exhausted. I lower my forehead onto the mat and close my eyes.

“Can we please stop now? I physically don’t think I can even stand up again.”

My voice sounds muffled and wobbly as I refuse to look at Alpha Tate, who hasn’t even broken a sweat since we started all those hours ago.

And once again, everyone else is long gone.

“We can stop.”

I look up in surprise.

Alpha Tate holds out his hand, which I eye suspiciously before I slap my own into it