"I may be your second chance, Wade, but I will not be your second choice."
Reeling from the death of his mate, Alpha Wade tried everything in his power to bring her back to life. So consumed with raising her from the dead, he almost missed his secon...
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ALPHA Wade's aversion to me persisted. Every so often, I would still catch the faint whiff of his scent despite my various masking techniques and be reminded of what could have been.
When I closed my eyes for the night—despite the rigorous training I was subjected to—my thoughts and dreams would often trace back to him. Dreams of him smiling, accepting the bond taunted my dreams, morphing into unpleasant nightmares.
I snapped back to reality by a brutal blow to the face.
Marco Vasquez and I were squaring off in the Training Field. He was twice my size in width. But where he had an advantage in mass, the same could not be said for height. We both stood at eye level, so it was not so much an advantage in my corner.
His veins were prominent on his arms, and he was light enough on his feet to be able to put his muscle to good use straight into my face. The impact sent me stumbling back, but I kept steady on my toes. He took another swing at my face, but I had anticipated it this time, dodging the attack.
Combat training mostly consisted of a few preparatory sessions for the past couple of days. Lectures on how to stay quick on your feet and lectures on how to throw a fatal punch were given, but I couldn't have felt any more inadequate. I had not studied for the better part of two years to learn how to roughhouse with other able-bodied Werewolves.
I wanted to be trained on Patrol.
Snarling, I threw a defensive punch. Marco likewise saw it coming, and instead of stepping out of the line of fire, he caught my fist in the palm of his hand and twisted my arm. Without time for a struggle, my knees buckled underneath me, and the wind was knocked out of my chest.
To further the blow, Marco used his free hand to send another sucker punch to my head. My head bounced forward from the impact, and I could feel my strength slowly leaving my body.
"Are you shitting me?" Someone yelled. "This is an unfair fight. Beta Finn, you need to call it."
However, Beta Finn did not heed the warning. Instead, another brain-shattering punch was sent my way. This time my endurance was not as withstanding. My body lurched forward, and Marco let go, causing my body to fall flat onto the dirt-covered ground.
Since Beta Finn had not blown the whistle, the fight was still on. It was clear Marco had won as I cradled the bleeding wound on my head, but he did not relent.
There was still a fight to be had.
Rather than continue to batter my skull, Marco sent a swift kick to my stomach. I rolled over and suppressed a groan of agony.
"Fucking call the fight," the same voice shouted.
Marco was able to send one more blow to my stomach before the whistle blew. Once the fight had been called, Marco walked over to my side and extended his hand.
