Chapter 89 An Unequal Opponent
The training ring was already loud when I stepped into it.
Steel clanged. Boots struck mats. Voices echoed off the reinforced concrete walls of the underground facility. Sweat, adrenaline, and ozone hung thick in the air. Vincent was in the center of the ring, sleeves rolled up, hands wrapped, looking every bit like the relentless instructor he was.
I rolled my shoulders, loosening muscles that still ached from yesterday.
“Again,” Vincent said, gesturing for me to circle him.
I moved, light on my feet, faster than most, sharper than I'd been weeks ago. My body knew how to fight. My mind was learning how to control it.
I lunged. He blocked. I pivoted, sweeping low. He jumped back just in time.
“Better,” Vincent said. “But you’re still thinking.”
I scowled. “You told me thinking was good.”
“I told you controlled thinking was good.”
Ihuffed and came at him again
—and felt it.
That familiar shift in the air.
The way the room subtly realigned itself around a single presence.
Darius stood just beyond the ring.
Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. Eyes locked on me with an intensity that made my spine straighten without permission.
I faltered for half a second.
Vincent noticed immediately.
“Reset,” he barked. Then followed my gaze and sighed. “Of course.”
Darius stepped closer to the edge of the mat. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wasn’t planning to.”
Vincent wiped sweat from his brow. “You here to observe, Alpha, or interfere?”
Darius’s mouth twitched. “Observe. For now.”
I scoffed. “That sounded like a threat.”
He looked at me directly now. “Only if you’re scared.”
The word landed like a spark on dry grass.
I turned fully toward him. “Scared of you?”
A few nearby wolves slowed their movements, sensing something brewing.
Vincent straightened. “Alright. Let’s all take a breath.”
Darius ignored him. “You hesitated when I walked in.”
I bristled. “Because you have a talent for looming. Not because I’m afraid.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Then fight me.”
The ring went silent.
Vincent’s head snapped toward him. “Absolutely not.”
My pulse spiked. “Excuse me?”
Vincent stepped between us. “This isn’t fair, and you know it. You’ve been training since you were a teenager. You’ve got years of combat experience, military, pack, Forest Seal Team—”
A murmur rippled through the onlookers.
I blinked. “Forest what?”
Darius didn’t look away from me. “Subdivision. Military unit.”
Vincent continued, voice firm. “We handle werewolf criminals when human forces couldn’t. We were trained to neutralize targets stronger, faster, more dangerous than any ordinary opponent.”
My stomach tightened.
Vincent added quietly, “That’s why we were sent after your father.”
The room seemed to tilt.
My breath caught, not because I hadn’t known Darius killed my father, but because hearing it framed like that made something cold settle in my chest.
Darius’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.
Vincent turned to me. “You’re powerful, but you’re still learning control. Pitting you against him right now is reckless.”
Darius finally spoke. “I’m not asking you, Vincent.”
I lifted my chin. “Funny. Because no one asked me either.”
Vincent looked between us. “Lyra—”
I stepped past him, entering the center of the ring fully now. “You think I can’t take him?”
Darius arched a brow.
Vincent muttered, “Oh, this is a bad idea.”
I crossed my arms. “I thought you enjoyed watching my ass get kicked, Vincent.”
A few wolves choked back laughs.
Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. “I enjoy progress. Not funerals.”
I turned back to Darius, eyes blazing. “I can take you.”
The ring erupted with movement as people gathered closer, forming a rough circle. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Darius studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s make it interesting.”
Vincent groaned. “I don’t like where this is going.”
Darius stepped into the ring, rolling his shoulders. “If I win, you come with me to the carnival tonight.”
I blinked. “What?”
A few people laughed outright.
I recovered quickly. “That’s your prize?”
His eyes gleamed. “Afraid of a little fun?”
My lips curled. “If I win?”
He paused. “Name it.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “You do three thousand push-ups. With me sitting on your back as extra weight.”
The ring exploded with noise.
“No way,” someone muttered.
“That’s insane.”
Vincent stared at me. “You are both unhinged.”
Darius laughed, actually laughed, low and surprised. “Deal.”
We shook hands.
His grip was warm and steady.
Vincent raised both hands. “Controlled sparring only. No shifting. No lethal strikes. I’m stopping it the moment it goes too far.”
Darius nodded. “Of course. I would never hurt my mate ”
I rolled my neck. “I would.” I smirked “Ready when you are.”
We circled each other.
Up close, Darius was… different. Not just bigger or stronger. There was a quiet confidence in the way he moved, as he’d already mapped ten ways this could end.
I attacked first.
Fast. Aggressive. Testing.
He blocked easily, redirecting my momentum instead of stopping it outright. I spun, kicked, and aimed for his ribs. He caught my leg, forcing me to twist free before I lost balance.
“Good speed,” he said lightly.
I growled and came at him harder.
He didn’t dominate me.
He dissected me.
Every time my temper flared, he waited me out. Every time I hesitated, he exploited it. When fear crept in, when I worried about losing control, he pressed closer, forcing me to choose restraint over instinct.
“You’re pulling your punches,” he murmured as we locked briefly, foreheads almost touching.
“Shut up,” I snapped, shoving him back.
I landed a clean hit to his shoulder. Then another to his jaw.
The crowd roared.
Darius stumbled back a step, surprise flickering across his face.
“Nice,” he said, and then he changed tactics.
He went low, sweeping my legs. Irolled, barely avoiding being pinned. I sprang up, breath coming fast, heart pounding.
We clashed again.
Minutes stretched. Sweat burned my eyes. My muscles screamed.
He was good and I was just holding on because I didn't want to lose.
Finally, I overcommitted. Just once.
He used it.
I found myself on my back, his knee pinning my thigh, his forearm braced near my shoulder, enough pressure to immobilize, not hurt.
I struggled. He didn’t budge.
“Yield,” he said quietly.
My chest heaved. My beast snarled inside me, furious.
I locked eyes with him.
Then, slowly, I stopped fighting.
“I yield,” I said through clenched teeth.
Darius released me immediately, standing and offering a hand.
I ignored it and pushed myself up.
The ring erupted in cheers, groans, and applause.
Vincent exhaled. “Barely,” he said to Darius. “You barely won.”
Darius nodded, eyes never leaving mine. “She’s getting there.”
I wiped sweat from my face, glaring at him. “Don’t get smug.”
He smiled. “Carnival tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m only agreeing out of spite.”
“And curiosity?” he asked.
I hesitated, just a fraction.
Then scoffed. “Don’t push it.”
But as I walked out of the ring, heart still racing, I was looking forward to tonight.