Chapter 7: Chapter 7

SELENE

I felt stripped bare beneath Alpha Theron’s presence—exposed in ways I hadn’t prepared for, like he could see straight through my skin and into the marrow of my bones.

His words echoed in my mind.

“By the time I’m finished with you, you won’t just find your wolf. You’ll own it.”

I swallowed hard, steadying my breath.

He moved, his steps soundless as he circled around me. I forced myself to stay still, to keep my feet planted even though my instincts screamed at me to move, to run.

“Your body is weak,” he said, voice calm but weighted with truth. “Years of servitude have taught you endurance, but endurance is not strength.”

I clenched my fists.

“Endurance is surviving,” he continued. “Strength is deciding whether you fight or fall.”

He stopped just behind me. Close enough that I could feel the faint brush of his presence against my back.

“Which will you choose?”

The words crawled beneath my skin, burrowing deep, wrapping around something I’d long since buried.

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know.

“Your hesitation is your downfall,” he murmured. “It is why they see you as weak. Why they throw stones instead of fists. Because they know you will not fight back.”

Heat flared in my chest.

“I—” I started, then bit my tongue.

I didn’t have an excuse. Not a good one.

He shifted again, moving to stand in front of me.

“Show me what you’ve learned.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been watching them for years, haven’t you?” Alpha Theron tilted his head. “The way they fight. The way they move. You’ve memorized it. Studied it.”

I had.

Not because I wanted to fight them—but because I had to know how to avoid them.

“Show me,” he said again, his voice dipping into something darker. “Now.”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before I lunged.

It was instinct. Not calculated, not thought through, but I moved.

I struck low, aiming for his ribs—where I knew most wolves left themselves open. A solid blow there could drive the breath from an opponent’s lungs, buy a moment to escape.

But he wasn’t ~most wolves.~

He sidestepped so smoothly it was like he predicted my every movement before I made it.

Before I could recover, his hand caught my wrist.

A jolt of heat shot through me at the contact, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

He twisted, using my own momentum against me, and suddenly I was on the ground.

The impact jolted through my spine, but I barely had time to react before he spoke again.

“Again.”

I clenched my teeth, pushing myself up.

I exhaled sharply, steadying my stance.

I wouldn’t let him throw me so easily.

I lunged again.

This time, I adjusted.

I feinted left, then drove my elbow toward his sternum—a direct strike meant to knock him back.

But he moved faster.

His hand caught my forearm before the strike could land, fingers clamping around muscle, halting me effortlessly.

I twisted, shifting my weight, and drove my knee up toward his ribs, aiming for the sensitive spot just below the floating rib where the pain would linger.

He blocked me again, but this time, I used his momentum against him—jerking my arm back and aiming a sharp kick toward the inside of his knee, where even the strongest stance could falter.

I hardly registered the flicker of approval in his expression before he knocked my legs out from under me.

I hit the ground with a gasp.

Alpha Theron crouched beside me, his head tilting slightly.

“Better,” he murmured.

I panted, my lungs burning.

“You are quick,” he admitted. “But you hesitate when you should commit.”

I gritted my teeth.

Again.

I pushed up, muscles aching, fire licking at the edges of my limbs.

I ~could~ do this.

I ~had~ to do this.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his stance. He wasn’t winded. Wasn’t even breathing heavily.

I moved first.

I ducked low, sweeping my leg in an arc toward his ankles—intending to take his feet out from under him.

He sidestepped, but I followed up immediately, driving the heel of my palm toward his chin, aiming to snap his head back.

He caught my wrist midair.

His grip was unshakable, but I twisted into him, rolling my shoulder as I drove my free elbow toward the soft part of his throat.

His head tilted at the last second, my strike missing by inches.

Then his arm hooked around my waist—fast, brutal—and suddenly, I was on my back again, gasping for air.

Alpha Theron exhaled through his nose—disappointed.

“Enough,” he said, his voice flat.

I winced.

I was attacking blindly, throwing my body at him without any real purpose. I was fighting like prey.

And this warrior didn’t train prey.

A firm grip closed around my arm.

Not rough. Not cruel.

Just absolute.

“Up,” he commanded.

I obeyed, even as my legs trembled.

He didn’t release me until I was steady, until I was standing on my own.

“You’re wasting energy,” he said, his tone sharp. “I’m tired of this child’s play. If you’re going to fight, do it right. Or we don’t do it at all.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to let the frustration sink too deep.

“I ~am~ trying,” I muttered.

He tilted his head slightly, listening. Then he huffed a quiet laugh.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” he said. “Not in a fight. Not when the enemy doesn’t care how much effort you put into losing.”

My hands curled into fists.

Alpha Theron stepped closer, his presence pressing against me like an unseen force. His fingers brushed over my wrist, then lower, tracing along the inside of my forearm. My pulse jumped.

“Take a breath,” he ordered.

I hesitated.

“Now, Selene.”

I inhaled, shakily.

“Again,” he said, voice smooth as silk, but edged like a blade.

I did it again.

“Slower.”

Another breath.

The trembling in my hands began to steady, and he hummed his approval.

“Better,” he murmured, voice low, intimate. “Now listen to me. You fight like a survivor. That’s why you’re losing.”

I frowned. “What’s wrong with surviving?”

The air shifted. The heat of his presence wrapped around me, teasing at the edges of my senses.

“Survival is reaction,” he said, his breath fanning the back of my neck. “A fight is control. And controlling your body is the most important.”

I swallowed, my pulse jumping.

“Your balance is weak. If someone knocks into you now, what happens?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer.

He shoved me.

Hard.

I gasped, feet slipping out from under me. The impact stole my breath, leaving me sprawled beneath him.

He crouched beside me, unimpressed. “That,” he said dryly, “is what happens when you don’t plant yourself.”

Frustration burned hot in my stomach. But so did something else. I pushed myself up again, chest heaving.

He grabbed my forearm, pulling me to my feet with ease. “Fix your stance.”

I swallowed my irritation and obeyed.

“Feet apart. More. Good. Bend your knees. If you’re stiff, you’ll fall just as fast.”

I adjusted, my body settling into something steadier.

He circled me, slow and deliberate. I felt him, even when he wasn’t touching me. The air shifted when he raised a hand, testing me.

“Hold.”

I braced.

His palm met my shoulder. Not hard—just enough to challenge.

I didn’t move.

His fingers tapped lightly against my arm. “Good. You’re learning.”

Something warm flickered in my chest.

“Now, your punches,” he continued. “You swing like you’re throwing stones at a river.”

I bristled. “Then teach me.”

For the first time, Alpha Theron smiled.

Sharp. Almost predatory.

“Watch.”

Then—he struck.

It was so fast I barely registered it. His fist snapped forward, stopping inches from my ribcage before pulling back. A warning. A demonstration.

“You drive the force from your legs,” he said. “Your power comes from your core, not just your arms. If you punch with your arm alone, you’ll break your own wrist before you break an opponent.”

I nodded quickly, absorbing every word.

He stepped behind me again.

“Throw a punch.”

I hesitated, then swung forward, aiming a straight jab at his sternum.

His hands caught my shoulders, halting me mid-motion.

“No,” he murmured.

His touch was light but commanding. I exhaled sharply, pulse spiking.

He adjusted me, his fingers pressing against my hips, shifting me effortlessly.

“Twist your torso,” he said, guiding my body. “That’s where your power is. If you aim for the sternum, follow through—drive the impact into the bones, don’t just tap it. Your foot moves with it—plant it. And—” His fingers traced down my arm to my fist, unfurling it to remove my thumb before curling it again beneath his. “Don’t tuck your thumb inside. That’s how you break bones.”

I exhaled shakily.

“Again.”

I threw the punch, aiming lower this time—toward his floating ribs. A clean, sharp strike meant to take the breath from his lungs.

He hummed in approval.

“Again.”

Another.

“Again.”

My muscles burned, but I obeyed.

Faster. Stronger. More controlled.

“Good,” he finally said. “Now, defense.”

Before I could process the shift, the alpha’s hands closed around my wrist.

I barely had time to react before he yanked me forward, trapping my arm. His grip was firm, inescapable, his skin hot against mine.

“Right now,” he murmured, his voice brushing over my senses like silk, “if I wanted to break this” —his fingers flexed slightly, pressing into my pulse point—“you couldn’t stop me.”

A shiver crawled down my spine.

The man exhaled, his breath warm against my ear. “But,” he continued, “if you move first, you don’t have to be stronger than your opponent.”

He shifted behind me, his fingers tracing along the inside of my wrist, his grip firm but unhurried.

“Turn into them,” he instructed, “not away. If you pull back, you’re easier to control.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat curling low in my stomach.

“Move,” he ordered.

I twisted sharply, following his guidance, using my free hand to strike—this time aiming an upward strike toward his jaw, right under the chin.

The man released me immediately.

I stumbled back, breathing hard.

~I had freed myself.~

Something inside me snapped—a pulse of energy, a rush of something I couldn’t name.

“Good,” he said softly.

But I barely heard him.

Because the heat beneath my skin was growing.

Thick. Heavy.

My knees buckled.

I gasped, clutching at my chest.

My alpha moved instantly.

“Selene,” he said sharply.

The air was thick with something I couldn’t understand.

The fire burned hotter.

The room tilted.

The man reached for me—

And I didn’t fight it.

Didn’t even want to.

I collapsed against him, my body no longer my own, and his arms caught me without hesitation.

Strong. Secure.

His.

A quiet sound rumbled in his chest, and I could barely process the way his fingers gripped my waist, the way his body felt against mine—hot, solid, unwavering—before the world faded.

My alpha was the last thing I felt.

The last thing I heard.

And, deep down, I knew…he wouldn’t let me go.