The Alpha's Rebel Heart

CHAPTER THREE: First Blood

Wren's Pov

I didn't get the chance to ask his name before two Stonefang guards appeared out of the trees and marched me straight to the pack house, the massive grey-eyed stranger walking silent and unreadable a few steps behind us the whole way.

My father was worse than I expected. His skin had gone pale and thin, his breathing shallow. I sat with him for an hour, holding his hand, whispering that I was home, that I wasn't going anywhere. The healer said it was some kind of slow-moving fever, nothing life-threatening yet, but nothing they fully understood either. I made myself a promise right there at his bedside: whatever it took, I would find a way to help him get better.

That promise came with a price. Word came the next morning that all pack members — even returning ones, even ones with sick relatives — were required to report to mandatory training under the new Alpha's orders. No exceptions.

I found out exactly who "the new Alpha" was the second I stepped onto the training grounds.

It was him. The mountain from the forest path. Alpha Kane Voss.

He stood at the front of the gathered crowd like he owned the ground beneath his boots, arms crossed, grey eyes sweeping over every wolf present like he was cataloging our weaknesses one by one. When his gaze landed on me, it lingered half a second too long before moving on.

"New rules," he said, voice carrying easily across the whole yard without him even raising it. "Every wolf in this pack trains twice a day. No exceptions for age, rank, or excuses. Ashwood was weak. Ashwood fell in one afternoon because it forgot how to fight. That ends today."

A ripple of resentment moved through the crowd, quiet but unmistakable. I felt it too, hot and sharp in my chest. This man had marched in, taken our home, and now he stood there insulting the pack like we owed him gratitude for it.

"Pair up," he ordered. "Spar. I want to see what a year of nothing has done to you."

I found myself shoved into a sparring circle almost immediately — and standing across from me, smirking like he'd won the lottery, was Elias.

"Well, well," he said, loud enough for the wolves nearby to hear. "Look who crawled back."

Beside him, arms crossed, stood Briar, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Did the wild finally spit you out, Wren? Or did you get bored of being alone?"

A year ago, those words would have cut deep. Now they just bounced off me like pebbles off stone.

"At least I left with dignity," I said evenly. "You two are still standing in the same spot, still needing everyone to watch you to feel important."

Briar's mouth fell open. A few wolves nearby actually laughed, quickly muffling it when Kane's eyes cut toward the sound.

"Enough," Kane said. His gaze landed on me again, and this time it didn't move away. "You. Front and center."

My stomach dropped. "Me?"

"You seem to have a lot to say. Let's see if your body backs it up." He gestured to the open ring at the center of the yard. "Show me what a year away taught you."

The whole training ground went silent, dozens of eyes swinging toward me. I could feel Elias's smug satisfaction radiating from the sidelines, could feel Briar's hungry anticipation, waiting for me to fail in front of everyone.

I wasn't going to fail.

I walked into the ring and rolled my shoulders, settling into the stance I'd drilled into my body a thousand times over the past year. Kane watched me with something unreadable in his cold grey eyes, like he was recalculating whatever assumption he'd made about me.

"Rules?" I asked.

"No rules," he said. "First one down loses."

He came at me fast — faster than I expected from someone his size, faster than should have been possible for a wolf that big. I barely got my arms up in time to deflect his first strike, the impact rattling all the way up to my shoulder. My whole body screamed that I'd made a terrible mistake agreeing to this.

I didn't have time to think about it. I ducked his second swing, feeling the wind of it pass over my head, and used the momentum to spin low, aiming a sweep at his legs. He hopped it easily, unbothered, like I was barely a nuisance.

Frustration flared hot in my chest. A year of training, and this man was toying with me.

He came at me a third time, one massive arm swinging toward my ribs. Something in me snapped — not fear, not panic, but pure instinct, sharpened by twelve months of learning exactly how my body worked under pressure. I dropped low, let his arm pass over my head by inches, and drove upward with everything I had.

My fist connected with his jaw.

The sound of it cracked across the silent training ground.

Kane staggered back half a step, more from shock than pain, one hand coming up to touch his jaw as his cold grey eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole the air right out of my lungs.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. I stood there, chest heaving, fist still raised, watching disbelief and something dangerously close to admiration flicker across the face of the most powerful wolf in the territory.

Then his eyes went gold.