Chapter 23: Broken Bones

Chapter 23: Broken Bones
Eva's POV

The morning sun barely touched the velvet curtains when I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. My limbs felt like lead, sore from yesterday’s mental and emotional tug-of-war. I groaned inwardly. The ache wasn’t just physical. It was in my bones—in the part of me that never seemed to fully relax, no matter how safe I tried to convince myself I was.

Then came the warmth. His warmth.

Trent’s arm slid around my waist, his hand gently splaying across my stomach. “You’re awake,” he murmured, voice husky with sleep.

“Barely,” I muttered, my voice muffled against the pillow. “Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

He chuckled and nuzzled my hair. “That truck must’ve had silver rims and a grudge.”

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

He shifted, pressing his lips against the back of my neck. “Stay in bed. You deserve a slow day. No training. No stress. Just this.”

I sighed, fighting the urge to curl into him. “You know I can’t. They already think I’m weak. I have to show them I belong here.”

Trent turned me toward him, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, Eva. Not to them. Not even to me.”

I smiled faintly. “But I need to prove it to myself.”

Before he could respond, a knock echoed through the room. He groaned dramatically and rolled out of bed. I caught the faint trace of his scent—pine and storm clouds—as he walked to the door and opened it.

“Kyle,” Trent greeted.

“Alpha,” Kyle said with a respectful nod. “Morning. Training starts in thirty minutes. Thought I should let you know.”

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

Trent gave me a long look. “She’s not going.”

“I’m right here,” I reminded him, wrapping the sheet around myself. “And yes, I am.”

Trent pinched the bridge of his nose like I’d just confessed to wanting to walk through fire barefoot. “Eva—”

“No,” I cut in firmly. “I want to. I need to.”

His jaw flexed. Kyle, sensing the rising tension, cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure everything’s in order.”

Trent nodded. “Do that.”

I got dressed in my light workout gear. Every step down the corridor toward the training grounds made me more aware of how much my body still throbbed with exhaustion. But my spirit? It was awake now. I needed this. Needed to show everyone I wasn’t just some broken girl Trent dragged home out of pity.

When we reached the grounds, I paused. The usual hum of disdain—the whispering, the side-eyes—wasn’t there. No one looked at me like I didn’t belong. Instead, they were focused, working through their drills.

I took a seat on the bench near the edge, letting the quiet calm seep into me. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally shifting.

That’s when I saw her.

Kiara.

She strode toward me, her smirk like venom wrapped in silk. “Eva,” she said sweetly. “Care for a light spar?”

My eyes flicked to Trent, who stood a few feet away, watching intently. I gave him a slight nod.

“I’m game.”

We stepped into the circle. Kiara stretched, rolled her shoulders, and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

The first few exchanges were tame. She jabbed. I dodged. She kicked. I blocked. Her moves were clean but not lethal—at first. Then I felt it.

A sharp elbow to my ribs. A hook that grazed too close to my jaw. She wasn’t playing fair anymore.

“Slipping already?” she taunted under her breath. “Maybe you should’ve stayed in bed like a good little house pet.”

I gritted my teeth. “You talk too much.”

I swung, catching her shoulder. She stumbled, and the crowd murmured. That made her eyes darken.

“Oops,” she sneered. “Didn’t mean to—”

She lunged.

I barely saw the foot before it swept under mine. My balance tilted. Pain shot up my side as I hit the ground.

And before I could stand, she was on me again, too fast. A twist. A crack.

White-hot agony shot through my leg.

I screamed.

“Enough!” Trent’s voice thundered like a clap of lightning.

He was beside me in an instant, his arms sliding under me, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing. My vision blurred from the pain.

“She’s faking it,” Kiara said, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.

“Say one more word,” Trent growled, “and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a month.”

He turned, but I grabbed his shirt. “No,” I hissed. “Don’t carry me. I can walk. I’m fine.”

“You are not—”

“Put me down.”

He didn’t argue. He set me down gently, but as soon as weight hit my right leg, I collapsed with a cry.

The murmurs began again.

“She’s too weak—”

“She can’t even stand—”

“Why would an Alpha choose that?”

Rage simmered in my chest.

“I’m not weak,” I spat, forcing myself to one knee.

Trent’s hands closed into fists at his sides. “Kiara,” he said coldly, turning toward her. “You did this on purpose.”

“She wanted to fight,” she said defensively. “Maybe she should’ve stayed out of the ring.”

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t speak again.

He launched.

Kiara had no time to dodge. Trent tackled her into the tree behind her with such force the bark splintered. She groaned, slumping to the ground.

“Trent!” Myra yelled, moving forward.

Kyle stepped into her path. “Don’t. Not unless you want to follow her into a tree.”

Myra’s nostrils flared, but she stayed back.

Trent knelt beside me again. “Eva, you’re done. That’s final.”

Tears burned at my lashes. Not from the pain—but from the humiliation.

I let him lift me again, and this time, I didn’t protest.

As he carried me away, I heard Kyle’s voice bark behind us: “Training is over. Dismissed.”

The murmurs faded as distance grew. But the sting in my heart didn’t.

I didn’t want to be carried. I didn’t want pity. I wanted to be strong enough to stand next to him.

But right now, all I could do was clutch his shirt and pray I hadn’t just lost the fragile ground I’d finally started to gain.

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