The training yard rang with the sound of fists striking pads, bodies slamming into dirt, and the grunts of exhausted recruits. Dust hung in the late-morning air like a veil, clinging to sweat-slicked faces. Beyond the wire fences, the forest loomed dark and still, as if holding its breath.

“Pair up!” Derick’s voice cut through the noise, commanding, unyielding. “Hand-to-hand combat. If you can't fight with your weapon, you fight with your body. And if you can't fight with your body…” His storm-gray eyes swept across the line, pinning each recruit in place, “then you don't deserve to wear that uniform.”

Paige's stomach twisted. She had barely survived the morning run, four miles uphill at dawn with a pack strapped to her back, and now he wanted them to throw punches like seasoned brawlers? Her arms trembled just holding herself upright.

“Anthony!”

Her head snapped up. Of course. Of all the names to call.

“Yes, sir?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“You're with me.”

Murmurs ripped through the recruits. No one sparred with Wofeblood. Not unless they wanted to leave broken. Even Troy, leaning against a rail with his arms crossed, arches a brow at Derick through their mind link: Really? You're going to do this in front of everyone?

Derick's mental reply was a growl: I need to know what she's made of.

Troy smirked silently. Or you just need an excuse to touch her.

Troy had been shocked when Derick revealed that Paige Anthony is his mate. Troy spent the evening teasing Derick and also congratulating him. It was a great joy for werewolves to find their mates, while some lived out their lives without experiencing the joy, the few who did were considered lucky.

Paige squared her shoulders. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath. If he wants to break me, he’ll have to try harder than this.

Derick stepped into the ring, his broad frame dwarfing hers. Every instinct in him screamed to stay away, to keep the bond buried. But the wolf in his blood snarled with hunger the moment she drew near. Her scent—wild, electric, defiant, burned through him like fire. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in muscles that had nothing to do with combat.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low growl only she could hear.

“Don't go easy on me,” she shot back, her chin high.

His lips curved, just slightly. “I wasn't planning to.”

The first clash was fast. Paige lunged, awkward but determined, and Derick blocked her with a single fluid motion, spinning her to the dirt as of she weighed nothing. Gasps rose from the crowd.

Paige spat hair from her mouth, eyes blazing. She shot back to her feet. Again.

This time, she dusked his strike, surprising him with her speed. Her fist grazed his jaw. It wasn't enough to hurt, but the contact sent a jolt down his spine, hot and electric. The bond screamed between them, louder than the shouts around the yard.

His wolf howled: Mine.

Derick tightened his hold on his control, circling her. She was sloppy, reckless, human—but gods, she was relentless. Each swing carried fire, and each fall ended with her dragging herself back up.

“You're too stubborn to know when to quit,” he said under his breath, so low only she could hear.

She glared up at him, chest heaving. “And you're too scared to admit someone gets to you.”

The words hit harder than her fists. His jaw clenched. Without meaning to, he closed the distance, his speed a blur, pinning her wrists above her head as they hit the dirt together. Their bodies pressed close, heat burning between them.

Paige froze, breath catching. His scent surrounded her—smoke, pine, something dangerous yet magnetic. Vivid images from her wet dream resurfaces. Her heart hammered against her ribs, every nerve alright.

Derick looked down at her, Storm and hunger in his eyes. He wanted her, he wanted her bad. For one impossible second, the world stilled. His wolf shoved against his control, wanting to bury his face against her neck, to taste her skin, to mark. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Paige's lips parted, confusion and something else flickering across her face. She hated him. She had to. But the heat of his body, the weight of him pressing her into the dirt—why did it feel like fire instead of fury?

Then he shoved away, rising to his feet with a sharp movement that was almost painful. “Match over,” he barked, voice hard as steel. “Anthony, hundred push-ups. The rest of you, learn something from her persistence.”

The recruits muttered, wide-eyed. Even Sara, standing at the edge of the ring, felt her wolf stir with recognition and questions. Through the mind link she sent to Derick, her voice was calm but edged: Alpha?

Derick ignored her.

Paige spat up, cheeks burning, fury and confusion tangled in her chest. He hated her. He had to. But then why had his touch felt like fire? She hated herself for enjoying his touch.

Far away, in the quiet of a locked archive deep beneath the camp, history lingered in the dust and ink. A brittle page in the Rash family records read:

Year 12 of the Accord. The wolves grow stronger, too strong. The human whisper that we are losing control. So we build something greater. Not born of moon or blood, but of blade and science. Creatures that will obey only us. A new army. A better army. And when the time comes, the wolves will bow… or burn.

The words, written by Captain Rash II, ha been forgotten by most. But the bloodline of Rash remembered. Always.

Back in the barracks, Paige collapsed onto her bunk, muscles screaming. She hated him. She hated the way he pushed her, the way he made her feel small, and the way she couldn't stop replaying the heat of his body against hers, the flash of hunger in his eyes. She buried her face in her pillow, groaning.

Across the camp, Derick washed the dirt from his hands, staring at his reflection in the steel basin. His wolf snarling inside him, restless, aching. Her scent clung to his palm. His muscles were tight, coiled, his blood hot.

He slammed his fists against the sink, cracking the edge. The mate bond was making it difficult for him to control himself.

If he is restless, so will she be.

He stormed out the restroom and slammed the door…