Chapter 5 Training the Weak Mate

Selene woke to the clang of steel. At first, she thought it was a dream, the echo of something distant, but when she opened her eyes, the noise only grew louder. Her chamber was dim, the fire burned low, and beyond the door came the heavy thud of boots against stone.

The door opened.

"Up," Darius's voice commanded, deep and merciless.

Selene pushed herself upright, her muscles stiff, her mind still fogged. "It's barely dawn," she murmured.

"Strength doesn't wait for the sun," he said. "Dress. Meet me outside."

The door shut again. No room for argument.

Selene sat frozen for a moment, her heart drumming nervously. Last night she had chosen to stay. Chosen him. But only now, as the reality pressed in, did she feel the weight of that decision.

With shaky hands, she dressed in the simple training leathers left folded at the foot of her bed. They were plain but sturdy, the Shadowfang crest stitched into the chest. She swallowed hard when she traced the emblem with her fingers. She wasn't one of them. Not yet.

When she stepped outside, the cold morning air cut her skin like a blade. The Shadowfang training grounds stretched wide, lined with torches that flickered against the grey dawn. Warriors filled the space, their bodies massive, their movements sharp. Every eye turned toward her.

Selene's stomach twisted. She had been mocked by her own pack before, but this was different. These weren't familiar faces. These were strangers-enemies-wolves who looked at her as though she were prey wandering into a den of predators.

Darius stood at the center, broad shoulders lit by firelight. His silver gaze cut through the crowd and landed on her. "Come," he ordered.

Her legs moved before her mind caught up. She crossed the dirt ground, every step heavy under the weight of the stares that followed her.

"This," Darius's voice carried across the circle, "is Selene. You know who she is. You know where she came from. The mate rejected. The Luna discarded. The wolf left to die."

A murmur rippled through the warriors. Selene flinched, her cheeks burning.

"But," Darius's voice thundered, silencing them, "she is mine now. And I will make her strong enough to break the world that spat her out."

His gaze pierced her. "Selene, you will train. You will bleed. You will break. And if you survive, you will rise. Do you understand?"

Her throat was dry, but she forced herself to nod. "Yes."

"Good." He pointed to the weapons rack at the side of the ring. "Choose."

Selene stared at the gleaming steel. Swords, axes, daggers-tools she had never been trusted to touch. Back in Kael's pack, women like her weren't trained for battle. They were taught to serve, to support, never to fight.

Her hand hovered uncertainly before she picked up a wooden staff, lighter than steel but solid in her grasp.

Darius's brow lifted faintly. "Interesting choice. Let's see if you can hold it."

A towering warrior stepped forward, his muscles straining against his tunic. He smirked at Selene, twirling his blade.

"Not him," Selene whispered in panic.

"Yes," Darius said coldly. "If you only face shadows, you'll never be ready for war."

The warrior lunged. Selene barely managed to raise her staff, wood clashing against steel. The vibration rattled her arms, nearly knocking the weapon from her grip.

The next strike came faster. She stumbled back, her staff scraping against the dirt. Laughter erupted from the watching wolves.

"Pathetic," someone muttered.

Her chest burned. Humiliation surged. She wanted to throw the staff down, to run, to scream that she wasn't a fighter. That she wasn't meant for this.

But then Kael's face flashed in her mind. His sneer. His words-weak, unworthy.

Something inside her snapped.

When the warrior struck again, she shifted her grip, lowering her body, and swung the staff upward. It cracked against his ribs. Not hard enough to break, but hard enough to silence the laughter.

The warrior growled, eyes flashing gold. His next strike came sharper, crueler. Selene barely dodged, the blade grazing her arm. Pain seared her skin, but she didn't let go of the staff.

Her wolf stirred inside her chest, not with strength, but with raw, stubborn defiance.

Again and again, she blocked. Her arms screamed. Her legs shook. Blood dripped from her cut, soaking into her sleeve. Still she refused to fall.

Finally, Darius's voice rang out. "Enough."

The warrior stepped back, breathing hard, his smirk replaced by grudging respect. Selene's chest heaved, sweat dripping down her face, but she remained standing, her staff still in hand.

The silence stretched. Then Darius spoke. "Better than I expected."

It wasn't praise, not exactly, but the faintest thread of approval wove through his tone. Selene's heart stumbled in her chest.

The training continued. Hour after hour, she was thrown against warrior after warrior. Each stronger than the last. She was knocked down, bruised, cut, humiliated-but every time, she got back up.

Her body screamed for rest, but something deeper drove her forward. The memory of rejection. The fire in Darius's eyes when he said she could be more.

By midday, she collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving. Sweat slicked her skin. Her palms were raw. The staff lay broken at her side.

"You're finished," one warrior sneered.

But before Selene could drop her gaze, Darius stepped into the circle. His silver eyes blazed, cold and sharp.

"No," he said. "She's only begun."

He reached down, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her to her feet. His grip was iron, unyielding, but it anchored her.

"Again," he ordered.

Selene blinked at him in disbelief. "I-I can't-"

"You can," he cut her off. His voice was steel, but his gaze burned. "Do not tell me what you can't do. Show me what you will do."

Her chest tightened. Somewhere inside, her wolf growled, weak but fierce.

She lifted her chin. "Fine."

The warriors watched as Darius faced her himself. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need to.

"Attack me," he commanded.

Selene hesitated. "I'll lose."

"Then lose better," he snapped.

Anger flared hot in her chest. She lunged, swinging her broken staff. He caught it with one hand and twisted, sending her stumbling. She regained her balance and swung again. This time he sidestepped, his movements so fluid it felt like fighting the wind itself.

Again and again, she struck. Again and again, he evaded. Sweat poured into her eyes. Her lungs burned. But each miss only pushed her harder.

Finally, in a desperate burst, she aimed not at his chest but at his legs. He hadn't expected it. The staff cracked against his shin-not enough to harm, but enough to surprise.

A low hum rumbled in his chest, almost like a laugh. "Better."

Selene froze, panting, stunned by the flicker of satisfaction in his gaze.

She had landed a hit. On him.

The circle of warriors murmured, their eyes shifting with something new-not mockery, but recognition.

Darius stepped closer, towering over her. "Remember this moment. Weakness is a lie. You've been told it so long, you believed it. But today, you proved them wrong."

Selene's throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, to claim it was only luck. But deep inside, she felt something stir.

Something dangerous.

Something hers.

Darius's gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable. "Tomorrow, we do it again. And the day after. Until the world sees you as I see you."

Selene swallowed hard, her pulse racing. "And how do you see me?"

For a heartbeat, his silver eyes burned into hers, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

"As mine," he said simply.

The words struck her harder than any blade. She couldn't look away, couldn't breathe, caught in the gravity of him.

But before she could answer, he turned, his voice snapping back to command. "Dismissed."

The warriors dispersed, though their glances lingered on Selene-no longer mocking, but wary.

Selene stood frozen in the dirt, her body aching, her staff broken, her heart pounding. She didn't know if she hated him or wanted to believe him.

But one thing was certain.

She would never be the same again.