Wolfless

Chapter 5 — The Alpha’s Test

The clang of metal echoed through the training field before dawn. Cold mist hung low, curling around the boots of warriors who had already gathered. I stood at the edge, the only one without armor.

Atlas’s voice carried across the grounds. “Pair up. Run drills until you drop. No mercy today.”

His tone cut through the air like a blade. The soldiers obeyed instantly, scattering into pairs. I moved to slip away, but his voice found me.

“Not you. You’re with me.”

Every eye turned. A ripple of disbelief spread through the ranks.

“Alpha, she’s…” one warrior began.

“Wolfless?” Atlas’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then she’ll learn to survive without one.”

Laughter broke out, bitter and mean. I bit my tongue and stepped forward. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes…those sharp gold eyes…watched every movement.

He tossed me a wooden staff. “Show me what you can do.”

“I’m not a fighter.” My voice came out low, careful.

“You’ll learn,” he said, circling me slowly. “Or you’ll bleed trying.”

I gripped the staff tighter. “And if I refuse?”

Atlas stopped. “Then I’ll assume you’re hiding something.”

A chill ran through me. I raised the staff.

The first strike came fast…too fast. He wasn’t holding back. I barely blocked it, the force jolting through my arms.

“Again,” he said.

We clashed again and again. The wooden staff splintered under his strength. I stumbled, gasping for breath, every muscle burning.

“You’re slow,” Atlas said flatly. “You think too much before you move. Instinct, not thought, that’s what keeps a wolf alive.”

I swallowed my retort. He didn’t need to know my instincts were buried with my wolf.

He lunged again, forcing me to dodge. “You hesitate,” he growled. “Why?”

I didn’t answer.

He caught the end of my staff and twisted. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me.

“Get up.”

“I’m fine here,” I muttered.

He crouched beside me, voice low. “You hate being seen as weak. But you wear it like armor. Why?”

I turned my head away. “You ask too many questions.”

“And you answer none.”

Silence. Only the thud of training weapons around us filled the air. I pushed myself up, ignoring the ache.

“Again,” I said.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes…approval, maybe, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

The next rounds were harsher. Each blow tested the limits of my endurance. He didn’t let me breathe, didn’t let me think. But the more he pushed, the clearer my focus became.

By the tenth round, the murmurs had stopped. The pack watched in silence. I could feel their surprise when I blocked his strike,barely, but enough.

He stepped back, breathing evenly. “Better.”

I wiped blood from my lip. “Satisfied?”

He looked at me like he couldn’t decide. “Not yet.”

A shadow of a smirk touched his mouth. “You lasted longer than half my soldiers. That’s something.”

“I didn’t know this was a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition,” he said quietly. “You just don’t always know what you’re fighting for.”

His words hit harder than his strikes. I looked away, pretending not to hear the weight behind them.

A shout broke through the tension. One of the scouts ran into the yard.

“Alpha! Rogues on the east ridge. Fifteen, maybe twenty.”

The pack sprang into motion. Atlas’s hand went to his blade.

He turned to me. “You. Stay inside.”

“I can fight.”

“You can barely stand.”

“I can still help,” I said, firmer this time.

He hesitated, then handed me a short dagger. “Stay behind the front line. Don’t get clever.”

Before I could answer, he was gone, already leading his soldiers into the trees.

The forest swallowed them whole.

Minutes stretched like hours. I stood near the edge of camp, heart pounding, dagger tight in my hand.

Then came the sounds…snarls, crashes, and the sharp ring of steel. Smoke drifted from the east ridge, followed by a scream.

Without thinking, I ran.

The clearing was chaos. Warriors fought tooth and claw against feral rogues, their eyes wild with madness. I spotted a young child pinned under one of them, blood spilling fast.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I dove between them, plunging the dagger into the rogue’s neck. It fell with a snarl. The boy gasped, clutching his wound.

“Don’t move,” I whispered, pressing my palms over the gash.

Silver light flared beneath my hands…faint but real. The bleeding slowed. His breathing steadied.

He stared at me, eyes wide. “You…how…”

“Quiet.”

But Atlas had already seen.

Across the field, his gaze locked onto me, sharp and unreadable. His sword dripped with blood, his jaw tight.

The light faded from my hands. I pulled back fast, pretending it hadn’t happened.

He stalked toward me through the smoke, every step deliberate.

“What was that?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Adrenaline,” I said quickly. “Instinct.”

“Instinct doesn’t heal wounds.”

“I got lucky.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone cut deep.

“I’m not,” I whispered.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The noise of battle faded behind us, leaving only tension thick enough to choke on.

Atlas’s eyes flickered, as if he

saw something in me he couldn’t name…or didn’t want to. Then he turned away.

“Back to camp,” he ordered. “Now.”

I followed without a word.