Elara’s POV
The heavy iron frying pan sliced through the air with a loud whistle, slamming directly into the wooden target dummy’s face with a violent crash. The impact completely tore the dummy’s head off the base, sending splinters flying across my private western courtyard.
"See?" Wren shouted, casually brushing a speck of rust off his hands as a dozen young omega servants watched him with their eyes widened into huge circles. "It’s all in the wrist. If a high-ranking Alpha tries to corner you in a dark corridor, you don't bow your head and cry. You grab the nearest kitchen utility and make sure he loses his teeth."
"I am writing this down right now," one of the younger maids squeaked, her pen scratching frantically against a piece of parchment.
I was leaning against a wooden table,
