After everything that happened yesterday, I couldn’t sleep at all. I lay there on my right side, staring at the glowing digits on my bedside clock: 4:25 a.m. It felt like I’d suddenly developed some kind of insomnia. My mind refused to shut off, thoughts swirling uncontrollably, mostly focused on *him*. Jake.
I hated to admit it, but he scared me now. The memory of his grip on my arm, the dark look in his eyes... it all kept replaying in my mind. The fact that my own father left me in his care infuriated me. *Him,* my so-called “Alpha.” And don’t get me started on the ridiculous idea that he’s supposed to be my “soulmate.” What a joke.
Nothing Jake had done so far indicated anything remotely close to being my soulmate. He treated me like just another burden, like an outsider. It was as if I were an intruder in his world, someone he barely tolerated. He didn’t even seem interested in getting to know me. All he did was order me around, act like he owned me. It was infuriating.
I groaned out loud, pulling the covers tighter around me. My head hurt from overthinking. *Why me?* Why was I the one stuck with all of this? The werewolf thing, the mate thing, the lies... It was all too much. Just thinking about it was exhausting.
I finally slipped into an uneasy sleep, more from sheer mental fatigue than actual tiredness.
***
I woke up to the shrill sound of my alarm, its beeping piercing through my head like a dagger. Groaning, I reached out and slapped it off. 6:30 a.m. *Great*. I could still feel the exhaustion dragging me down like a weight, but I knew I couldn’t afford to crawl back into bed. I remembered Jake’s warning, and the last thing I wanted was to face another one of his mood swings. I had to be at training by eight, or he’d probably explode.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I turned the shower on and let the hot water try to wake me up. My reflection in the mirror looked like a mess—dark circles under my eyes, my long, curly black hair sticking out in every direction. I sighed and quickly cleaned myself up, throwing on a pair of black skin-tight leggings that hugged my curves, a black Nike sports bra, and my favorite grey Nike sneakers. I tied my hair back into a high ponytail, but skipped any makeup. This was training, not a fashion show.
After getting ready, I realized I had no idea where the training room was. I wandered around the enormous mansion, getting lost more times than I cared to admit. Each hallway looked the same. It was like a maze. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I stumbled upon the training area.
The room was massive, more like a large ballroom than a gym. It was filled with equipment—weights, punching bags, mats, and even a sparring ring. My eyes immediately caught sight of two guys going at it in the ring, exchanging heavy punches. They looked like they were ready to tear each other apart. *Oh right,* I reminded myself, *they’re not human.* These weren’t your average gym rats—they were werewolves, and this was just another day for them.
"About time you found it," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Bryan standing there, arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.
I cleared my throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Uh, yeah, got a little lost," I admitted, trying to avoid his eyes. Things had been weird between us since yesterday’s revelation. He was supposed to train me, and I knew that. But part of me still felt betrayed, and I wasn’t sure how to act around him anymore.
Bryan seemed to sense my unease but didn’t push it. "Come on, let’s get started," he said, leading me to a large mat in the corner of the room, away from the others who were sparring. His voice was casual, but I could tell there was a slight tension between us. I wondered if he expected me to act like nothing had happened.
I followed him, trying to shake off the awkwardness. Once we were on the mat, Bryan stretched his muscular arms, warming up. "Today, we’ll start with the basics," he explained. "Self-defense, footwork, how to block and counter. It’s important that you learn how to defend yourself, especially since you won’t be shifting into your wolf."
I frowned. "Wait, I thought I was a full werewolf. What do you mean I won’t shift?"
Bryan stepped closer but kept a respectful distance. "You’re half-wolf, Prisca. One of your parents wasn’t a werewolf, so you won’t fully shift. You can communicate with your wolf, but that’s it. No transformation. But don’t worry. You’ll still have enhanced abilities—speed, strength, heightened senses—just like the rest of us."
I let out a breath of relief. "Oh, okay. I guess that’s not so bad." The thought of turning into a giant wolf had always freaked me out anyway. "So, what now?"
"Now, we train." Bryan gave me a small, encouraging smile. "Let’s see what you’ve got."
***
An hour later, and I was lying flat on my back, gasping for air. Bryan had kicked my ass, and I was painfully aware of just how bad I was at this. Every time I tried to block him, he’d counter so fast I barely saw it coming. And every time, I ended up on the mat, staring up at him in defeat.
"Come on, Prisca, you have to anticipate the moves. Don’t just react. You need to be proactive," Bryan said, offering me a hand to help me up.
I grabbed it and stood, wobbling slightly. My body was drenched in sweat, and my muscles screamed in protest. Meanwhile, Bryan didn’t even look winded. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with me. "You can’t keep getting in the same position over and over again. You need to think ahead. Use your instincts."
"I’m trying!" I snapped, feeling the frustration boiling over. "It’s not like I’ve been doing this my whole life, Bryan. Cut me some slack!"
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get that. But you have to take this seriously, Prisca. Your life could depend on it. Now, let’s go again."
I groaned but nodded, stepping back into position. Bryan came at me again, but this time, I focused on his movements, anticipating the moment he’d reach for me. As soon as he lunged, I grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and tried to sweep his legs out from under him. To my surprise, it worked. Bryan hit the mat with a loud thud, and for the first time, I stood over him, victorious.
A grin broke out on my face. "Did I just—"
"Don’t get cocky," Bryan cut in, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes. "Good job. That’s what I’m talking about. Now, do it again."
And just like that, the training continued. But this time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t as helpless as I thought.
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