MARKED BY THE THREE ALPHAS

Chapter two

Lila's pov

The room Darius left me in is small but surprisingly clean. A narrow bed with a thick wool blanket, a rickety wooden dresser, a single window overlooking the clearing, and a tiny attached bathroom that looks like it was added as an afterthought. No frills, no luxury, just functional. Exactly what I expected from a rogue pack that doesn't waste time on appearances.

I drop my backpack on the floor and sink onto the edge of the mattress. My legs are jelly, my head spinning from hunger and exhaustion. The adrenaline from facing down three alphas is wearing off fast, leaving me shaky and raw. I press my palms to my eyes, trying to block out the memory of their stares, Kade's cold calculation, Ronan's silent intensity, Darius's barely leashed aggression. And that nagging sense of familiarity, like my dream last night wasn't just fantasy.

A soft knock at the door snaps me out of it.

"Come in," I call, voice rougher than I intend.

The door opens, and a woman steps inside. She's maybe a few years older than me, mid-twenties, with short-cropped black hair, sharp cheekbones, and the easy, coiled strength of someone who's spent her life fighting. She's wearing faded cargo pants and a tank top that shows off lean, scarred arms. Her scent hits me, earth and smoke, beta through and through.

"Hey, new girl," she says, offering a crooked smile. "I'm Maya. Pack medic and occasional babysitter for idiots who get themselves hurt." She holds up a tray with a steaming bowl of stew, a hunk of bread, and a glass of water. "Figured you'd want this before you pass out."

My stomach clenches so hard I almost whimper. "Thank you. Seriously."

She sets the tray on the dresser and leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Don't thank me yet. Food's basic, venison, root vegetables, whatever the hunters brought in yesterday. We don't do room service here."

I grab the bowl anyway, too hungry to care about manners. The first spoonful is heaven, rich, savory, warm. I eat like I haven't seen food in years, which isn't far from the truth.

Maya watches me with amusement. "Slow down or you'll make yourself sick. You've been running on empty too long."

I force myself to pause, swallowing hard. "How did you know?"

"Everyone knows. Word travels fast in a pack this small. Darius dragged you in looking half-dead, and Kade already announced your trial period over breakfast. Half the pack thinks you're crazy. The other half thinks you're brave. Or stupid. Jury's still out."

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "Fair enough."

She tilts her head, studying me. "You really ran from Silver Moon? That's ballsy. Most omegas don't make it past the first night alone."

"I had no choice." I set the bowl down, already feeling steadier. "They were going to mate me off like a bargaining chip. I wasn't about to let that happen."

Maya's expression softens just a fraction. "Good. We don't do arranged matings here. You earn your place, or you don't have one. Merit-based. Brutal, but fair. No one's going to hand you anything because of your designation."

I nod, absorbing that. It sounds... freeing. Terrifying, but freeing.

"Come on," she says, jerking her thumb toward the door. "Finish that later. I'll show you around before they throw you to the wolves. Literally."

I follow her out into the clearing. The lodge is the centerpiece, but there are smaller cabins scattered around it, maybe a dozen in total, plus an open training ground ringed by logs and crude wooden dummies. A few wolves are sparring in human form, fists flying with controlled ferocity. Others are shifted, circling each other in low, growling play-fights. The air smells of sweat, pine, and dominance displays, alphas marking territory with casual growls, betas posturing just enough to remind everyone they're not pushovers.

Maya points things out as we walk. "That's the mess hall, eat when the bell rings, or you go hungry. Over there is the armory; we keep weapons for when things get ugly with rival packs. Training grounds are sacred, no bullshit, no excuses. You show up, you fight, you learn. Or you bleed."

We stop near a group of younger wolves listening to an older woman with silver-streaked hair and a no-nonsense stance. She's barking orders, demonstrating a quick disarm move.

"That's Elder Sarah," Maya says quietly. "She handles the pups and new recruits. Tough as nails, but fair. If you survive her, the alphas might actually take you seriously."

Sarah spots us and waves Maya over. We approach, and the older woman's sharp eyes land on me.

"So you're the Silver Moon runaway," she says, voice gravelly. "Lila Thorne."

"Yes, ma'am."

She snorts. "Don't 'ma'am' me. Makes me feel ancient. Call me Sarah." She looks me up and down. "You're skin and bone. Suppressants?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Herbal mix. Kept my heat down so I could travel."

"Stupid. Dangerous. But effective, I'll give you that." She gestures to two young men nearby, twins, from the look of them. Same dark hair, same cocky grins. "Jace, Cole, meet your new sparring partner. Lila's on trial. Don't go easy."

Jace grins wider, cracking his knuckles. "Welcome to hell, princess."

Cole just nods, sizing me up like I'm prey. "We'll see how long she lasts."

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Ignore the idiots. They're warriors-in-training. Good fighters, terrible manners. You'll be with them this morning. Basic assessment. Show us what you've got."

My stomach twists. I haven't trained properly in months, Silver Moon kept omegas on light duties, "protecting our delicate natures." The suppressants dulled my reflexes, my strength. And I'm still weak from starvation.

But I lift my chin. "I'm ready."

Maya gives me a sympathetic look. "Good luck. I'll be in the infirmary if you need stitches."

She leaves, and Sarah points to the edge of the training circle. "Warm up. Stretch. Then pair off with Jace first."

I do as told, rolling my shoulders, stretching my hamstrings. The movements feel foreign after days of running. My muscles scream in protest.

Jace steps into the circle, bouncing on his toes. "Rules are simple: no claws, no teeth unless shifted. Tap out if you need to. But don't expect us to stop just because you're pretty."

I step in opposite him. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Sarah calls start.

Jace moves fast, faster than I expect. He feints left, then sweeps my legs. I jump back, barely avoiding the takedown, but my balance is off. He follows with a quick jab to my ribs. Pain flares, but I block the next one, countering with a weak punch to his shoulder.

He laughs. "That all you got?"

I grit my teeth and lunge. He dodges easily, grabbing my wrist and twisting me into a hold. My back slams against his chest, arm pinned behind me.

"Tap," he says, voice low in my ear.

I twist, using my smaller size to slip under his arm, elbowing him in the gut. He grunts, loosening his grip just enough for me to break free.

"Not bad," he concedes, rubbing his stomach. "But sloppy."

We go again. And again. Each round is worse. My limbs feel heavy, my breaths come in ragged gasps. Sweat stings my eyes. Jace doesn't let up—he's testing limits, not trying to kill me, but not babying me either.

From the sidelines, I feel eyes on me. Heavy. Intense.

Darius.

He's leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But I can feel his gaze like a brand. Watching. Judging.

Cole takes over next. He's quieter than his brother, more precise. He doesn't taunt, just strikes. A kick to my thigh sends me stumbling. A palm strike to my shoulder knocks the wind out of me. I hit the dirt hard, tasting blood from a split lip.

"Get up," Cole says flatly.

I push to my feet, legs shaking.

Sarah watches with narrowed eyes. "She's running on empty. Suppressants are still in her system. Give her a break."

"No," I rasp, wiping blood from my mouth. "I'm fine."

Jace raises an eyebrow. "You sure? You look like you're about to puke."

I glare at him. "Try me."

We go another round. I last maybe thirty seconds before Cole pins me again, this time face-down in the dirt, his knee in my back.

"Tap," he says.

I slam my palm against the ground twice.

He lets me up immediately. No gloating. Just a nod.

"Not terrible for day one," Sarah says. "But you're weak. Starved, drugged, untrained. We'll fix that. Tomorrow, same time. Eat. Rest. Hydrate. And stop the suppressants, your wolf needs to breathe if you're going to survive here."

I nod, too winded to speak.

As the group disperses, I feel Darius approaching before I see him. His scent wraps around me—pine, leather, alpha.

He stops in front of me, looking down. "You refused to quit."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Most would have." His voice is gruff, but there's something almost like approval in it. "Don't make a habit of it. Pride gets people killed."

"Noted."

He studies me for a long moment, eyes tracing the bruise forming on my cheek, the blood on my lip. Something flickers in his expression, concern? Interest? I can't tell.

"Get cleaned up," he says finally. "Dinner's at six. Don't be late."

He walks away without another word.

I stand there, bruised and aching, but strangely... alive. For the first time in days, I feel like

I'm fighting for something real. Not just survival.

A place. A purpose.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

I head back to my room, every step painful, but my head high.

One day down.

Six to go.