Demonstrations

WILLOW

Connor’s hands on my shoulders were warm, but his eyes were cold.

He held me like I might shatter or detonate; it seemed he hadn’t decided which yet. “Who taught you to fight like that?” he asked, his voice taut and jaw clenched. “And why?”

The question knocked the air out of me harder than when he’d told me I was reckless. There’d been no “How are you?” no “Are you hurt?” not even a “Thank you for protecting our kids from those rogues.”

And now here he was, pressing this blade of suspicion against my throat in front of everyone. Treating me as a threat.

Again.

Before I could even think of an answer, someone called his name—two someones, then four. His presence was demanded elsewhere, and his hands fell away.

But the ice didn’t leave his gaze. “Make sure every pack member is accounted for,” he snapped to one person before turning to another. “Double-check the western perimeter. See if we missed any rogues.”

Without another word, he left, moving with focused control. He didn’t look back at me, not even a glance.

He made me feel like background noise, not someone who’d just torn wolves apart with her bare hands.

Lisa appeared at my side as if teleported, slinging an arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze that made my ribs creak. “Ignore him,” she said, her tone the verbal equivalent of a warm blanket. “He’s a mess inside. Attacks like these aren’t too common.”

My throat was tight, stuffed with something sharp. “That seems like more than stress. He’s angry. At me.”

Lisa waved it off. “He’s not. He just doesn’t know how to say it’s because he’s scared for you. He’s not angry, he’s worried.” She stepped in front of me to look me in the eye. “You’re his mate, and that’s a lot. He’s still learning what that means. He’ll get over it.”

I nodded, but the knot in my chest didn’t budge. I couldn’t help but feel I’d lost his trust, that my ability to fight had proven his suspicions to be true. But it wasn’t my fault I’d been trained to kill.

Until a few minutes ago, I’d thought everyone had grown up with that kind of upbringing. To me, fighting was breathing—instinctual and natural.

~I guess I am a danger~, I thought, my spirit crushing inside me.

Lisa must’ve felt the shift in my energy because her smile turned thoughtful, then serious. “The humans taught you, didn’t they?” she asked matter-of-factly, without judgment.

“Started when I was little. Before I could even talk in full sentences, I think.”

Her brows lifted, and her mouth formed an O shape. “So, were they soldiers? Or doctors? Or both?”

Hesitating, I tried to fish memories from murky waters.

~Shadows in a sterile white room. Cold hands wrapping around mine, guiding my grip on something sharp. Voices barking orders. Applause when I bleed and don’t flinch.~

“Both,” I said, “I’m pretty sure. It wasn’t the doctors who taught me so much as the guys who came before them. When it was me training with two other kids. They were soldiers, I bet.”

Lisa hummed. Instead of pushing, she let silence wrap around us for a beat. “Well,” she said, a smile curling the corner of her mouth, “they taught you damn well.” She nudged my arm, her tone playful. “How would you feel about passing on some of that knowledge?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, leaning in as if we were conspiring, “our enforcers could use a little Willow-style savagery~.~ You took down three rogues by yourself—in human form—and didn’t even tear your shirt.”

My laugh came out closer to a cough, but it was real.

The knot in my chest loosened.

Okay, so I ~was~ dangerous. But maybe that didn’t have to mean destruction. Maybe I could show Connor that I wasn’t a weapon aimed at the pack—that I could be the weapon the pack wielded instead~.~

***

The training facility reeked of sweat and ego, thick enough to choke on. The walls echoed with whispers of anticipation, and fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

Pack warriors surrounded the gym mats, some perched on benches, others rolling their shoulders or tapping practice weapons against the floor. The enforcers, who Lisa had pointed out, stood more still, more serious. But their eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Under the glare of the lamps, I stood in the center of the training mats.

Lisa clapped her hands. “All right! Listen up! You saw what happened this morning—or heard about it. We all know how fast rumors fly.” She flashed me a grin. “But in case you didn’t, Willow took down three rogues. Alone. Without shifting or looking winded.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. I caught a few raised brows, doubtful head shakes, and impressed whistles. One guy actually scoffed in disbelief, and I shot him a look that made his smirk die on impact.

Lisa continued, “So I asked her to come down here and show you a few things. She fights differently than we do. And we’re going to learn from it.”

I cleared my throat, every cell in my body lighting up with a mix of dread and readiness. “I’m not really a teacher,” I admitted, darting my eyes around the group. “But I can show you. If someone’s willing to come at me.”

“Willing is an understatement,” said a bulky blonde as he strode into the sparring ring. “Been waiting all year for a good fight.”

He lasted thirty seconds.

The next one didn’t hit the ten-second mark. By the fifth opponent, I was dancing. My body had found its rhythm, and it was addictive. My feet were fast, my pivots swift, and my strikes on target. I didn’t just take them down, I undid them.

One by one, I accessed muscle memories and long-buried habits with clean, surgical grace. I didn’t need claws—the weapon they’d forged from me years ago was enough.

Lisa beamed, and the warriors, now far less cocky, paid close attention.

Then I saw Travis, who watched from the side with his arms folded and face unreadable.

“You in next?” I asked him.

He lifted a brow. “You want ~me~ to fight you?”

“You scared?” I tilted my head. “You weren’t scared back when I was strapped to a chair or strung up to the ceiling like meat.”

A collective intake of breath rippled through the crowd before murmurs flared around me. Even Lisa blinked when the energy in the room shifted. Some leaned forward with interest, while others stepped back as if they’d rather be anywhere else.

Travis stepped into the ring slowly. “That was different.”

“Sure,” I said. “I get it. It was more fun when I couldn’t fight back, wasn’t it?”

My words slapped him. The gym went dead quiet, and I could feel every pair of eyes boring into us.

Travis’s jaw tightened, and he came at me. But it was halfhearted; I dodged him easily. It pissed me off, so I brought the fight to him. We exchanged blows for a minute, but it almost felt choreographed. He was being intentionally predictable, I realized quickly.

“You’re holding back! Fight me for real!” I blocked his lazy punch, grabbed his fist, and twisted his arm until he grunted.

“I’m not going full force on my alpha’s mate!” he growled, unable to free himself.

“Oh, ~now~ you draw lines?”

He yanked his arm away, and something in his face shifted. “You want a fight? Fine.” He came at me again, for real this time, and I almost sighed in relief.

After that, we went at it—fast, dirty, and unrestrained. We fought the way real fights happened in the wild, even though neither of us shifted. And the reactions from the crowd told me this was getting too real for comfort.

Travis was stronger, but I was quicker. After a few minutes, he pinned me, but only briefly. I easily broke his grip, flipped him over my shoulder, and planted my knee in his chest before he could recover.

He stared up at me, panting, and I offered him my hand. He looked at it, seemingly wary it might bite, then took it. “Damn,” he said. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “I know.”

He wiped his lip with the palm of his hand and looked at it. “I deserved that,” he said, flashing me his bloody fingers.

I shrugged. “Maybe. But you stepped up anyway.”

He nodded once, solemn, before we shared a mutual exhale.

Something unspoken settled between us—certainly not friendship but respect, maybe~. ~And for now, that was enough.

CONNOR

Lisa’s voice slid into my mind while I was dragging a rogue’s corpse into an open grave. “~Connor, you need to get down to the gym. Your mate’s putting on quite the show.~”

I didn’t have time for this. There were still bodies to move and breaches to check for along our borders. But something in Lisa’s tone, part glee and part reverence, cut through my fatigue.

“~On my way~,” I linked back, and arrived at the gym just in time to see Willow flip Travis onto his back like he weighed nothing.

The wind left his lungs in a sharp ~oof~, and she stood over him, calm, collected, lethal. She helped him up, and he looked at her as if he’d never truly seen her before.

Neither had I.

The crowd quieted when I stepped forward. Warriors straightened. Eyes tracked me.

Willow’s smile faded as I entered the ring. Her brow furrowed.

“Thought I’d take a turn,” I said.

“You want to spar?” she asked in an unreadable tone.

I nodded once, rolling my shoulders. “Let’s see what you’ve got, soldier.”