Chapter 98

Chapter 98
Gregory's POV

Despite the warning prickle on my skin, I forced myself to continue toward the training ground. Whatever was coming, I'd face it with my volunteers beside me.

The training ground was already bustling when I crested the final hill.

Twenty-eight volunteers were clustered in small groups, checking gear and talking in low, serious voices. But what stopped me in my tracks was the additional crowd—at least fifteen more pack members who weren't participating but had come to watch.

Zara spotted me first and raised her voice to address the group. "Alright, everyone. Gregory's here. Time to get serious."

The conversations died down as twenty-eight faces turned toward me. I saw determination, nervousness, curiosity—but no skepticism. These people had volunteered knowing the risks, and they were here to learn.

The knot in my shoulders loosened slightly. Whatever was coming, I wouldn't face it alone.

"I won't lie to you," I said, raising my voice to carry across the group. "Today's going to be intense. The assessors are looking for any reason to declare this experiment a failure, and there's evidence someone's been tampering with our equipment."

A few murmurs of concern, but no one moved to leave.

"But here's what I know," I continued. "Every technique I'm going to teach you today, I've used to stay alive in situations where failure meant death. Not theory—reality. And if the equipment fails, if something goes wrong, that just becomes another challenge to overcome."

Kirk stepped forward from the tactical team. "We've all seen what you can do, Gregory."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the groups as Dex nodded. "Win or lose today, you're teaching us skills that could save lives. That's worth the risk."

I felt something settle in my chest—not just relief, but genuine confidence. These weren't people being forced to participate.

"Alright then," I said. "Let's show the Alliance what wolfless training can accomplish."

The volunteers dispersed to their assigned positions, their energy and determination infectious.

I checked my watch—7:55 AM. The assessors would be here any minute, and despite everything that could go wrong, I felt ready.

At exactly 8:00 AM, three figures approached from the direction of the main compound.

Alpha Elena looked professional and alert, carrying recording equipment and a tablet. Beta Wilmer followed behind her, his weathered face skeptical as he surveyed our setup. Commander Vale brought up the rear, her sharp eyes hunting for weaknesses that would support a negative assessment.

"Twenty-eight participants," Wilmer said without preamble, his tone making it clear he considered this excessive. "This exceeds the scope we discussed."

"More participants means a more comprehensive evaluation," I replied, keeping my voice level despite the spike of irritation. "It also demonstrates that pack members genuinely want to learn these techniques."

Vale stepped closer, studying my face like she was looking for cracks in my confidence. "It also means more potential for things to go wrong. If anyone gets seriously injured during this assessment..."

"They won't," I said firmly. "Every scenario has built-in safety protocols and multiple backup plans."

Alpha Elena held up a hand to stop the brewing argument. "Let's focus on the assessment itself. Gregory, please explain today's structure."

I walked them through the four-phase evaluation I'd designed overnight: coordinated rescue under communication blackout, equipment failure adaptation, injury response protocols, and crisis leadership under pressure.

"Real-world conditions where traditional methods fail," I explained. "But controlled enough to ensure safety."

Alpha Elena nodded approvingly, making notes on her tablet. Wilmer looked skeptical but didn't object. Vale continued her intense scrutiny, occasionally glancing at specific pieces of equipment with an expression I couldn't read.

"Recording will begin immediately," Elena announced, activating her tablet's camera function. "This assessment will be reviewed by the full Alliance Council, so accuracy and thoroughness are essential."

As the assessors moved to their observation positions, I caught Zara's eye. She gave me a small nod—our signal that the volunteers were ready for whatever came next.

"Phase One!" I called out, projecting confidence I was still building inside. "Communication blackout scenario. When you can't rely on pack bonds or technology, you adapt. Use every sense you have, trust your training, protect your team."

The volunteers moved into position with focused determination. Four teams, seven people each, in perfect formation.

Nephele appeared at the edge of the training area, shadows already beginning to coil around her feet in preparation for creating our simulated blackout conditions. Kaedan stood beside her, his ice-blue eyes scanning the assessors and observers with protective intensity.

Elena raised her tablet higher. "Assessment begins now."

Nephele's shadows began creeping across the training ground, not the violent darkness I'd seen her use in combat, but a controlled, gradual dimming that simulated the kind of magical interference that could cut pack bonds and electronic communication.

The volunteers responded exactly as we'd practiced. No panic, no confusion—just immediate adaptation.

"Sound off by touch," Kirk called out from the tactical team, his voice calm and authoritative. "Everyone find your partner, maintain contact."

"Medical team, equipment check by feel," Lila added from across the darkened area. "Remember your counts."

I moved through the shadows, watching each team execute the techniques we'd worked on. Using sound and scent to navigate, coordinating complex maneuvers through touch and whispered signals, maintaining team cohesion without any of the supernatural advantages they normally relied on.

It was working. Not just working—it was working flawlessly.

Through the lifting shadows, I could see Elena making extensive notes, her expression shifting to genuine interest. Even Wilmer looked grudgingly impressed.

"Phase One complete," I announced as Nephele's shadows receded completely. "Excellent work, everyone. Phase Two begins in five minutes—equipment failure scenarios."

The volunteers were energized, talking excitedly about techniques that had worked better than expected. Even the observing pack members were murmuring approvingly.

For the first time since accepting this challenge, I felt genuine hope.

I allowed myself a moment to savor the feeling, watching the volunteers reset their positions with newfound confidence. Maybe this really was going to work. Maybe—

That's when I heard the engines in the distance. Multiple vehicles, approaching fast from the eastern border.

I glanced toward where Nephele stood at the edge of the training area. Her shadows, which had been calmly pooled around her feet moments before, were now writhing restlessly. Her posture had shifted from relaxed to alert, her head tilted slightly as if listening to something I couldn't hear.

Something was wrong.

Before I could respond, a piercing alarm echoed across the compound.

Three long blasts—the signal for immediate threat to pack territory.

Every head turned toward the main building, where pack members were already emerging at a run. The volunteers began looking uncertain, the careful focus of our assessment fracturing as their pack instincts responded to the emergency signal.

"Hold positions," I called out, though my own heart was racing. "This is still an assessment."

But even as I said it, I knew everything had changed.

The quiet morning, the strange sense of wrongness I'd been feeling, the sabotaged equipment—it all suddenly made sense.

This wasn't coincidence.

This was the real test.

And I had the sinking feeling that whoever wanted me to fail had just made their next move.