Chapter 91
Chloe's POV
I stood in the center of the training grounds, facing Jordan's punchable face, my stomach churning with nerves.
Though I trained hard every day, truth be told, I'd never sparred with a real person before. The men all thought it beneath them to fight me. Every combat technique I knew, I'd figured out on my own.
Lack of real combat experience was my biggest weakness, but there was no turning back now.
Jordan rolled his wrists, a contemptuous smile playing at his lips. "What's wrong? Scared? It's not too late to apologize."
I took a deep breath and settled into my stance. "Cut the crap."
More and more pack members gathered around us, their whispers rising and falling.
"Is Chloe crazy? She's actually going to fight Jordan?"
"Sure, Jordan's lazy with training, but he's still a man."
"I bet Chloe won't last three minutes."
Jordan struck first. His fist came straight at my face, crude and direct. I dodged to the side and drove my elbow into his ribs.
He reacted a beat too slow. My strike landed, and he grunted, stumbling back two steps.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"She hit him!"
"She's so fast!"
I didn't give him time to recover. I followed up immediately with a leg sweep aimed at his lower body. Jordan blocked hastily, but his balance was off and he nearly fell.
My heart raced, adrenaline surging. Maybe I could actually win?
Jordan's expression darkened. Clearly he hadn't expected me to be this much trouble. With a low growl, he charged at me again, this time more viciously.
We clashed fiercely in the center of the training grounds. My speed and technique gave me the edge—several of my attacks left Jordan scrambling. But gradually, I began to tire.
He was too strong.
Each block sent numbing shocks through my arms. Each collision reminded me of the physical gap between male and female.
Worse still, my lack of real combat experience made my attack rhythm grow chaotic.
Jordan seemed to sense this. That smirk returned to his lips.
"What's wrong? Running out of steam?" he panted.
I gritted my teeth and didn't answer.
Just as I prepared to launch another round of attacks, Jordan suddenly changed tactics. Instead of matching my speed, he simply tanked my strikes and charged at me with brute force.
I couldn't dodge in time. He grabbed my wrist.
"Got you," he said with a vicious grin.
He twisted hard. Pain shot through my wrist like it might snap, bringing tears to my eyes. I instinctively tried to pull free, but his grip was iron. I couldn't break it.
The murmurs around us grew cutting.
"See? I told you she couldn't do it."
"A woman's a woman. She can't match a man's strength."
Connor still stood in place, watching expressionlessly. Derek whispered beside him, "Connor, are you really not going to step in? She's your sister."
Connor was silent for a few seconds, then said flatly, "She made her choice."
Jordan held my wrist with one hand and swung his other fist toward my face. My mind went blank. I knew if that punch landed, I'd lose.
No. I couldn't lose.
The instant before his fist connected, I did something even I didn't expect—I opened my mouth and bit down on his arm.
Jordan screamed and instinctively released my wrist. I immediately retreated, then used every ounce of strength I had left to drive a flying kick into his chest.
He staggered backward several steps and fell on his ass.
The training grounds fell dead silent.
I stood there panting, my wrist still throbbing with pain, but I had won.
After a brief silence, the crowd erupted.
Jordan scrambled to his feet, his face flushed crimson. He glared at me, eyes burning with humiliation and rage.
"You bitch! You bit me!" he roared.
I wiped the corner of my mouth and stared at him coldly. "You never said I couldn't."
Jordan, furious beyond reason, charged at me again. But before he could reach me, a low voice cut through the air.
"Enough."
A tall figure stepped into the training grounds. It was Ethan Caldwell—the pack's Beta. He looked to be in his forties, gray hair combed immaculately, eyes sharp and commanding.
"This farce ends now," Ethan said coldly. "Everyone disperse."
The gathered pack members scattered immediately. Jordan opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Ethan silenced him. He shot me one last hateful glare before slinking away.
Ethan turned to me, his tone softening slightly. "Chloe, the Alpha wants to see you. Go to his quarters."
I blinked. "Now?"
"Now."
---
I stood outside my father's door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
"Come in." My father's deep voice came from inside.
I pushed the door open. Alpha Tyler sat behind his desk, reviewing a document. He glanced up at me, then set down the parchment.
"I hear you caused quite a stir at the training grounds," he said, his tone unreadable.
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, Father."
"Lift your head," he said.
I did.
Father stood and walked to the window. With his back to me, he gazed out at the canyon and remained silent for a long time.
"Do you know what it means to be an Alpha?" he suddenly asked.
I didn't know how to answer.
"It means responsibility," he answered for me. "It means I must lead this pack to survive surrounded by enemies on all sides. To the north is the Silver Moon Pack, to the south the witches' Thorn Forest, to the east the Blood River wasteland, to the west other covetous smaller packs. We have no powerful elemental abilities, no abundant resources—only a territory we barely hold and wars that could erupt at any moment."
He turned to face me, his expression complex.
"But even in these circumstances, I still want my children to be happy."
My chest tightened. Father rarely spoke like this.
"Connor is the future Alpha. His fate is sealed," Father continued. "But you… I hoped you could marry a good man and live a peaceful life."
My heart sank. I knew what was coming next.
"You're seventeen now, Chloe," Father said. "It's time to consider marriage."
He returned to his desk and pulled two wooden tokens from a drawer. One was carved with a flame symbol, the other with frost.
"Both of these packs possess elemental power," Father said. "We need to form an alliance with them through marriage."
My hands began to tremble. "Father…"
"Choose one," he said, turning both tokens face-down on the desk. "Let it decide your fate."
I stood there staring at those two tokens, feeling the world spin around me.
"I don't want to be a pawn in a political marriage," I heard myself say.
Father's brow furrowed. "Chloe—"
"I have the ability to protect our pack," I interrupted, my voice rising. "I just defeated a man as a woman!"
Father laughed coldly. "Jordan? That good-for-nothing deadweight at the bottom of the warrior ranks?" He shook his head. "Chloe, you're nowhere near ready."
I opened my mouth but couldn't find the words to argue.
"Going through with this marriage," Father's tone grew stern, "is the greatest contribution you can make to the pack."
I stared at those two tokens, my hand slowly reaching toward them.
But just as my fingers were about to touch them, I stopped.
"Let me join the trial," I said suddenly.
Father froze. "What?"
"Let me participate in the coming-of-age hunt," I lifted my head to meet his eyes. "If my prey is the largest, you'll take back this decision."
Father stared at me for a long time, then let out a bitter laugh.
"You're insane?" he said. "You haven't even awakened your wolf yet! This is suicide! I won't allow it!"
"What's wrong?" I pressed him. "Are you afraid I'll win? Afraid I'll prove your way is wrong?"
Father's smile vanished. "I just don't want you to die."
"If a political marriage is my destiny," I said each word deliberately, "I'd rather die in the trial."
The room fell into a long silence. Father looked at me, his expression complicated. Finally, he sighed.
"Fine," he said. "I agree."
I could hardly believe my ears.
"But," Father continued, his tone certain, "you absolutely will not succeed."