Chapter 94
Chloe's POV
I'd never seen a fight like this.
The boy who'd sworn his oath at the gym entrance was completing his first shift in what could only be described as miraculous fashion.
He rode Jordan's wolf back, the gray-brown beast thrashing wildly to throw him off, but Ivan's hands locked around its neck in an iron grip.
Thunder cracked overhead. Black clouds pressed so low they seemed ready to crush everything beneath them.
Then, under the breathless gaze of hundreds, Ivan's body began to change.
His spine arched, muscles surging beneath skin as black fur erupted from every inch of flesh. This was a shift completed under the most extreme conditions—any mistake would mean death before a crowd of witnesses.
But he did it.
A pure black wolf materialized on Jordan's back, larger than I'd imagined, its dark coat gleaming metallic in the rain. It growled low, front paws pinning Jordan's nape, hind legs braced against his flanks, every line of its body radiating wild power.
I heard someone beside me gasp.
"God... he actually shifted..."
"To maintain that balance during a first shift..."
"Look at his form—nothing like a beginner..."
Indeed. Ivan's wolf displayed not just strength but innate combat instinct. Every movement was precise and efficient, the kind of control that reminded me of the legendary warriors Father had described.
And that lightning strike...
BOOM—!
The bolt tore through clouds, slamming earthward with devastating force. White electricity swallowed both wolves in an instant.
I threw up a hand instinctively, the crowd's cries ringing in my ears.
Smoke billowed, obscuring everything.
When it cleared, I opened my eyes to see a charred figure on the ground.
Jordan lay there in human form. His skin was severely burned, clothes almost entirely ash, chest rising weakly to prove he still lived.
And Ivan stood beside him, completely unharmed.
The black wolf had shifted back. Rain streamed down his face, washing away dust and sweat. His clothes were torn, but his skin showed no burns whatsoever.
Could he... be immune to lightning? The thought exploded in my mind.
I stared at Ivan, then at the scorched Jordan, an indescribable shock rising within me.
The lightning had struck them both—why was only Jordan burned while Ivan seemed protected by the very electricity itself?
The crowd began to stir.
"Quick! Get the young master back!"
"Call the healer! Hurry!"
Jordan's cronies rushed forward in panic, clumsily dragging his unconscious form from the ground. They looked at Ivan with fear and wariness, as if seeing a monster. Some seemed ready to speak but ultimately just helped Jordan away in disgrace.
The rogues who remained erupted in thunderous cheers.
"Ivan! Ivan! Ivan!"
They raised their hands, surging toward the dark-haired boy. Those who'd suffered under Jordan's oppression had finally found someone to stand up for them.
"You're incredible! You're like a thunder god!"
"That punch was beautiful! And that final lightning strike..."
"Who dares say rogues can't shift now? You're living proof!"
I stood in the crowd, watching this magnificent scene.
Ivan was surrounded, looking somewhat overwhelmed. But he didn't grow arrogant from victory or vain from praise. He simply stood there quietly, letting the rogues release their long-suppressed emotions.
My lips moved, whispering his name.
"Ivan Price..."
I remembered what he'd said challenging Jordan—about oaths, about equality, about rogues deserving to survive on this land.
He wasn't showing off or seeking glory.
He was simply protecting those who, like him, lived humbly yet persevered.
The crowd began moving. They lifted Ivan like a triumphant warrior, heading toward the gym. I pushed forward with the flow, a single thought crystallizing.
I needed him.
No—I needed his strength.
If I wanted to defeat Connor in the hunting trial, if I wanted to escape that absurd political marriage, I had to find a teacher who truly understood combat.
The procession stopped at the gym entrance. They carefully set Ivan down, and he nodded thanks to those around him.
The crowd gradually dispersed. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Ivan was about to enter the gym when he heard footsteps and turned.
When he saw me, puzzlement flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by politeness.
"Can I help you?" he asked, voice hoarse.
I opened my mouth but couldn't find the words.
I was the Lightning Wolf Pack Alpha's daughter, and he was just a rogue. By all logic, I shouldn't be here. But right now, I couldn't care about that.
"I..." I bit my lip. "I want to train at this gym."
The moment I spoke, surprise crossed Ivan's face. He looked me up and down, then nodded thoughtfully.
"Come in." He stepped aside from the doorway.
I followed him inside. The space wasn't large but was neatly organized. Several she-wolves practiced combat moves in the corner.
Ivan gestured for me to sit, then took the chair across from me.
Rain still clung to his face, but his eyes were clear.
"Why do you want to learn combat?" he asked directly.
I froze.
The question was more direct than I'd expected. I couldn't tell him I was the Alpha's daughter, or that I needed to defeat my own brother in a hunting trial.
It was all too complicated...
"Because..." I scrambled for words. "Because I also have... an abusive mate!"
The moment I said it, I regretted it.
The excuse was so clumsy even I didn't believe it.
Sure enough, Ivan's gaze fell to my neck—smooth and unmarked by any mate's claim. He raised an eyebrow, clear doubt in his tone.
"Really?"
My face burned.
Being caught in a lie felt terrible, but I could only push forward.
"Well..." I laughed awkwardly. "Maybe I just want to spar with my dad who keeps punishing me?"
Ivan blinked, then burst out laughing.
The laughter was genuine, making him look less like the fierce warrior from moments ago and more like an ordinary boy amused by a joke.
"You're really something." He shook his head, smile lingering. "But if you really want to learn, we welcome anyone. Let me get my father—he's the coach here."
"Your father?" I was surprised.
"Yeah." Ivan stood. "Frank Price. He's the real combat master. Everything I know, I learned from him."
He turned toward the back of the gym. I sat there, anxiety churning.
Soon, a tall figure appeared in the doorway.
Frank was a weathered warrior. His face bore the marks of time, deep creases at his eyes, but those eyes were sharp as a hawk's. His frame was imposing, muscles still defined beneath simple linen clothes. He sat across from me, his gaze lingering a moment. That scrutiny made me uncomfortable.
"My son says you want to learn combat." His voice carried authority.
"Yes." I tried to steady myself.
"Fifty silver coins per week." Frank was blunt.
Fifty silver coins... for a rogue, that might be considerable.
But for me, it was nothing.
"No problem." I nodded.
Frank's eyes narrowed, studying me.
"You sure?" he asked. "Combat training isn't a game. Plenty of she-wolves come here thinking they can handle it, then run off crying on day one."
"I won't." I said firmly. "I'm serious."
Frank said nothing.
The silence grew awkward. I wondered if I'd somehow given myself away.
Then I reached to unbutton my coat, preparing to pull out my coin purse to pay the first week's fee.
But the moment I opened my coat lining, Frank spoke.
"Wait."
My hand froze mid-air as I looked at him questioningly.
Frank's gaze fixed on the inside of my coat, where a small badge was pinned—the mark only Lightning Wolf Pack nobles could wear.
His expression turned cold, even mocking.
"So you're a noble lady." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I thought someone actually wanted to learn combat. What, does your noble house need another combat instructor? Or are you just here slumming for entertainment?"
I froze.
His words cut like a knife straight to my heart.
"No, that's not..." I tried to explain. "I really want to learn..."
"Really?" Frank's laugh was bitter. "Then tell me—are you a Gamma's daughter or a Beta's?"
I opened my mouth but found I couldn't answer.
Ivan stood to the side, his expression shifting from confusion to shock.
He looked between me and his father, clearly lost.
"Dad, isn't there some misunderstanding..." He tried to ease the tension.
"No misunderstanding." Frank cut him off, standing. "Ivan, nobles only see us as their amusement!"
He turned to me coldly. "Please leave. We don't welcome guests like you here."
My heart sank.
I wanted to explain, to tell him I wasn't like that, but the words stuck in my throat.
Just then, the sound of synchronized footsteps came from outside.
All three of us turned to see the gym entrance surrounded by uniformed warriors.
The badges on their chests identified them—the Gamma's personal guard.
Frank's face turned ashen.
"Ivan," his voice trembled with suppressed rage, "now you see these nobles' true nature!"
I stood there, looking at those cold warriors outside, helplessness washing over me.
I'd done nothing, but everything was already beyond repair.