Chapter Two
1092 Words
The first rule of the Silver Ridge training pits was simple.
If you stepped inside the circle, you fought.
No excuses. No mercy.
And absolutely no crying.
The cold morning air bit at my skin as I tightened the wraps around my hands. The sky was still dark, the faintest line of pale gray stretching along the horizon. Most of the pack was still asleep.
But the training pits were already alive.
Boots scraped against packed dirt. Wolves barked commands. The metallic scent of sweat and iron hung heavy in the air.
I bounced lightly on my feet, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension in my muscles.
“Alex.”
I glanced up.
Blake stood at the edge of the pit with his arms crossed over his chest.
Even at eighteen, my brother already carried the steady confidence of a future Beta. His sandy-brown hair was damp from sweat, and a bruise darkened the edge of his jaw.
“You’re here early again,” he said.
“You say that every day.”
“And every day you ignore me.”
I grinned.
“You’d miss me if I stopped.”
Blake snorted but stepped aside so I could enter the pit.
“You’re sparring Caleb today.”
My grin faded slightly.
Caleb Mercer was nearly twice my size.
“Trying to get me killed?” I muttered.
“You asked for stronger opponents.”
“That was before sunrise.”
Blake laughed and clapped my shoulder.
“Don’t worry. If he knocks you unconscious, I’ll drag you home myself.”
“Such a caring brother.”
The dirt inside the sparring circle was cold beneath my boots as I stepped into the ring.
Across from me, Caleb rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles.
“You ready, Hale?” he asked.
“Always.”
He charged.
I barely had time to move before his fist came swinging toward my ribs.
I twisted sideways, letting the punch glance off my arm before ducking under his second strike.
The crowd around the pit murmured.
Most of them didn’t expect much from me.
I was smaller. Lighter. And, according to some pack members, I had no business fighting at all.
But I’d spent years proving them wrong.
Caleb swung again.
I dropped low, sweeping my leg behind his ankle.
His balance faltered.
That was all the opening I needed.
I drove my shoulder into his chest and shoved hard.
Caleb hit the dirt with a grunt.
The pit erupted with laughter and cheers.
I stepped back, breathing hard as Caleb groaned from the ground.
Blake whistled.
“Nice takedown.”
Caleb pushed himself up, rubbing his ribs.
“You fight dirty.”
I shrugged.
“You’re still on the ground.”
A few wolves laughed again.
As I stepped out of the pit, I felt the familiar weight of eyes watching me.
Not all of them friendly.
Michelle Everly stood near the training fence, her arms folded neatly across her chest.
Her long blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, untouched by the early morning wind. Even at training she looked like she had stepped out of a magazine.
Beside her stood two other girls from school, whispering behind their hands.
Michelle’s gaze slid over me slowly.
Judging.
Disapproving.
“You should be careful,” she said sweetly as I approached the water table.
“Why?” I asked.
Her lips curved slightly.
“Boys don’t usually like girls who hit harder than they do.”
I took a long drink from the water bottle before answering.
“Good thing I’m not trying to impress them.”
One of her friends snickered.
Michelle’s smile tightened.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
“Nice fight.”
I turned.
Zayne leaned casually against the wooden fence, watching me with dark, amused eyes.
At eighteen, he had grown into the kind of presence people noticed without trying.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Confident.
And completely aware of it.
“Did you see the part where he almost crushed my ribs?” I asked.
Zayne smirked.
“You handled it.”
He pushed himself off the fence and walked toward me.
The wolves around the pit instinctively shifted aside as he passed.
Future Alpha.
Even if no one said it out loud, everyone felt it.
Zayne grabbed a water bottle and tossed it to me.
“You’re getting faster,” he said.
I caught it easily.
“Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
Blake appeared beside us, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“You should’ve seen it,” he told Zayne. “She dropped Caleb in under thirty seconds.”
Zayne raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Luck,” I said quickly.
Blake snorted.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s been training like a maniac lately.”
Zayne studied me for a moment.
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
Easy for him to say.
He’d been born with respect.
I had to fight for it.
Before I could respond, Michelle’s voice drifted over.
“Well, some people need attention more than others.”
The air around us went quiet.
Blake’s jaw tightened.
Zayne didn’t even look at her.
But his voice turned cold.
“Michelle.”
That single word carried more warning than a full sentence.
Michelle lifted her chin.
“I was just making an observation.”
Zayne finally glanced her way.
His expression was calm.
But something in his eyes made her friends immediately stop whispering.
“Training starts in twenty minutes,” he said evenly.
Michelle’s smile flickered.
Then she turned and walked away.
Blake exhaled slowly.
“She gets worse every year.”
“No kidding,” I muttered.
Zayne watched Michelle disappear toward the packhouse.
Then he looked back at me.
“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”
“I don’t.”
Blake laughed.
“You absolutely do.”
I kicked his shin.
“Traitor.”
Zayne chuckled quietly.
The sound sent a strange warmth through my chest, something I quickly ignored.
“Come on,” Blake said. “Dad’s going to start drills soon.”
As we walked toward the training field, the rising sun finally crested the treeline, spilling golden light across the Silver Ridge compound.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Just the three of us again.
Running.
Training.
Growing up together.
None of us knew how quickly that was about to change.
- Writer
