Chapter 3 The Training

Selena's POV

I didn't sleep well that night, not because of the familiar ache in my chest, though that was there, pulsing like a live wire. Not because of Kael's face, twisted in my mind with betrayal, though he haunted me. I didn't sleep because of Darius.

I kept replaying his words, over and over, like a heartbeat I couldn't stop listening to, "It won't break you."

Why did it feel like a promise? Why did it feel like a concern? My body still tensed at the memory of his gaze, so sharp it seemed capable of cutting through me, but so careful it almost... protected me.

By dawn, I was already awake, tossing my sheets aside, restless. My wolf stirred, unsettled, pacing, whispering the same anxious questions my mind wouldn't stop asking, Can I trust him? Should I? Can I even want to?

When I finally made my way to the training grounds, the air was crisp, still heavy with the scent of dew and wet earth. Darius was already there. Leaning against a post, arms folded over his chest, watching me like I hadn't noticed, like he had been expecting me.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and tried to look indifferent. Tried to wear the mask I'd perfected over years. Alpha or not, he could see through it.

"You're early," he said, voice low and even, but not without that subtle edge that made me feel caught before I even spoke.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, shrugging, even though my shoulders were tight with tension.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He just gestured toward the sparring area. "Start with warm-ups, then drills, then we fight."

Fight. The word hit my stomach like a fist.

I wanted to argue, wanted to say, I'm not ready, I'm not strong enough, I'm... broken. But the moment I opened my mouth, the words caught in my throat. Darius wasn't offering me pity. He was offering me accountability. The chance to prove, at least to myself, that I could stand again.

So I just nodded and began.

* * *

The Warm-Up

My muscles protested immediately, tight from disuse and grief. I tried to shake it off, to remember the rhythm, the movements that had once been second nature.

Darius circled me silently, his eyes flicking over every step, every breath.

"You're tense," he said quietly, almost conversationally, though I knew better. "Not just your muscles. Your mind."

I clenched my jaw. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" His voice held a dry humor that made my skin crawl. "Fine doesn't look like this. Fine doesn't make you weak."

I froze.

"You feel that?" he continued, voice low. "The way your wolf is holding back? The way your body is braced for impact?"

"Yes," I whispered, embarrassed. "It's... instinct."

"Instinct doesn't work when your heart is a mess," he said sharply. "And right now, your heart is a mess."

He wasn't wrong, my chest felt tight, hollow, fragile. I hated that he was right. Hated that he could see it.

"You don't have to hide from me," he said, stepping closer. "But if you do, your fight ends before it begins."

I swallowed hard, my pride and stubbornness fought my vulnerability, tugging me in opposite directions. Finally, I nodded. "Understood."

* * *

Drills

The drills were more brutal. Darius pushed me harder than anyone had in years. Every punch, every block, every movement was scrutinized. He corrected me when my footwork was messy. He corrected me when my guard dropped. He corrected me when I hesitated.

And every time he corrected me, he didn't just teach me technique. He saw through the mess inside me, pointing it out with a precision that hurt.

"You're distracted," he said after a particularly sloppy combination. My fists had missed their mark, my feet had stumbling and I had barely landed a solid hit.

"I'm not," I lied, voice tight.

"Yes, you are." His tone was so calm, so firm, I couldn't argue. "You're thinking about someone who doesn't deserve your thoughts. Someone who betrayed you. You're thinking about them instead of the fight in front of you and that's why you fail."

It was humiliating, but more than that, it was... honest. And I hated it.

"I don't care about them right now," I said, teeth gritted.

"Liar," he muttered under his breath, and then loud enough for me to hear, "Don't waste your lies on me."

I flinched, the word liar cut deeper than a blade. Not because it wasn't true, but because he said it with such clarity that I had no choice but to face myself.

"You can't outrun pain," he said quietly, circling me again. "You can't hit it, kick it, shove it aside. It's part of you, accept it, train with it, use it. Or it'll always be faster than you."

I blinked, my body trembling not from exhaustion, but from the weight of his words.

* * *

The Fight

When he finally said, "Fight," I realized I was already shaking, my heart thudding against my ribs that felt too tight.

Darius didn't hold back. Not a single time. He moved faster than I could anticipate. His strikes were precise, calculated, controlled. My defense was clumsy, my counterattacks weak. Every time I stumbled, he corrected me, but never harshly, always like he expected failure, but also expected me to rise.

"Again," he said after I barely landed a hit.

And I did.

Again and again, until my muscles burned and my lungs screamed.

But through it all, his eyes never left me. They weren't judgmental. Not entirely. They were... assessing, studying me. Watching me survive, watching me falter, watching me push past it anyway.

And somewhere between the sting of bruised ribs and the ache in my arms, I realized, I wanted to impress him, not for Kael, not for anyone else but for him.

I hated that I wanted that. Hated that my body reacted to the brush of his presence, the sound of his calm voice, the way he never let me hide my mistakes.

* * *

A Moment Between Punches

At some point, during a brief pause to catch our breaths, he said quietly,

"You're stronger than you think."

I wanted to laugh, i wanted to cry, I wanted to tell him he had no idea what betrayal felt like. But the words felt... right. It wasn't flattery, or just encouragement, it was the truth.

"You make it sound easy," I muttered, breathing heavily from fatigue.

"I make it sound easy because it should feel possible," he said. "Pain doesn't last forever and weakness is temporary. Fear to me is a... choice."

I stared at him, heart hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with training. And for a brief moment, I let myself imagine not about Kael, or Lyria but Darius.

Not as an Alpha, not as a teacher, not as a judge but as someone who might stand beside me, someone who might see me, not broken me or the betrayed me but as a whole person still capable of being dangerous and beautiful.

I shook the thought away, quick. Dangerous. Dangerous. That word echoed in my mind like a drumbeat.

Darius didn't comment. But I could feel him noticing anyway.

* * *

Aftermath

By the time training ended, sweat slicked my hair to my forehead, my muscles ached, and my wolf had stopped pacing. My body was exhausted so was my mind.

Darius didn't offer words of praise, didn't hand me comfort. Instead, he did something infinitely worse and better.

He looked at me, really looked.

"You survived," he said simply.

"Barely," I muttered, wiping blood from a grazed knuckle.

"Barely still counts," he replied, and I realized that in his voice, barely was acknowledgment, respect.

I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. I nodded.

And then, without another word, he turned and left.

I stayed there, alone on the training grounds, feeling the weight of the silence he left behind. A silence that wasn't emptiness. A silence that felt like... attention.

And somehow, terrifyingly, it was more intimate than Kael had ever been with me.

* * *

Evening

Later, I found myself walking back through the pack grounds, the twilight stretching long and thin. The pack was quiet, subdued. They hadn't asked me about last night, hadn't whispered openly, but I knew. They watched, they always watched.

I let my wolf step forward, finally letting her scent mingle with mine, untamed, raw, and uncontrolled. She was restless too, but calmer than earlier. And I realized I wasn't scared for her anymore, not entirely.

Because Darius had seen me. And he hadn't recoiled.

I didn't know what would come next. I didn't know if I could handle him, his presence, his gaze, his control. I didn't know if I could stand the way he made me feel... noticed, challenged and exposed.

But I knew one thing.

I wanted to find out.

No matter how much it scared me.

* * *

The night were lengthening. The night would fall. But something in me had shifted, dangerous and undeniable.

Darius had found the cracks I thought I could hide. And somehow... I didn't want to patch them.

I wanted him to see them and I wanted him to stay.

The thought made my pulse spike in ways I was neither ready for nor entirely willing to admit.