Rejected By The Pack: Claimed By The Cursed Alpha

Chapter eight

The walk back from the training field felt longer than usual. Every step was a battle against the leaden weight in my limbs and the sharp, rhythmic protest of my lungs. My training blade was strapped to my back, a heavy reminder of a strength I was desperate to reclaim.

I was nearly at the edge of the clearing when the atmosphere shifted.

A shoulder collided with mine not a brush, but a targeted, violent strike that sent me staggering. I twisted instinctively, my hand flying to the hilt of my practice sword, but the wolf who hit me didn't even pause. He kept walking, his laughter joining the low murmurs of the crowd.

The respect was gone. I could feel it in the way they looked at me—not as a peer, but as an obstacle.

Before I could recover my footing, a tall warrior stepped into my path, his shadow stretching long and menacing over the dirt. He tilted his head, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

“You think training makes you one of us?” he asked, his voice dripping with a mockery that made my skin crawl.

I straightened my back, forcing my breathing to steady despite the fire in my chest. “I’m not looking for trouble,” I said, my voice leveled like a blade. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh, we know,” a second wolf sneered, stepping out from Lyra’s circle of sycophants. “You just came here to pretend. To play-act at being a warrior while the rest of us carry your weight.”

They moved in, blocking every exit, their grins broadening as they sensed my exhaustion. I was a human girl standing in a circle of predators, and they knew it.

The first shove caught me square in the chest. I stumbled back, my boots sliding in the loose dirt. Before I could reset my stance, the second shove came from the side.

Then the fight truly began.

Adrenaline, sharp and cold, flooded my system, overriding the fatigue. My years of training took over. I twisted, planting my feet, and shoved the first wolf back with a force that surprised him. He staggered, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second.

But they didn't back off. They lunged.

A third wolf joined the circle, and the air began to vibrate with the hum of partial shifts. I saw the subtle sharpening of their features, the glow in their eyes as they tapped into the power I didn't have.

I blocked a strike from the tall one, the wood of my blade humming against his forearm. I pivoted, countering a thrust, but the numbers were against me. One grabbed my wrist, twisting it until bone groaned, and yanked me forward. Another slammed a shoulder into my ribs.

The air left my lungs in a sharp, painful burst. I hit the ground hard, the taste of copper blooming in my mouth as my lip split against my teeth.

I pushed myself up, blinking through a haze of pain. The crowd had gathered now, a wall of silent, watching faces. Not one voice rose in protest. Not one warrior stepped forward to break the circle.

They watched me like entertainment.

I rose again, my legs shaking, my hands curled into fists. I parried a blow and spun, trying to break through the line, but a heavy strike to my shoulder sent me back to the dirt.

And then I saw her.

Lyra stood at the very edge of the clearing, her posture relaxed and elegant. She wasn't shouting. She wasn't participating. She just stood there with a slow, contented smile on her lips, her eyes bright with a horrifying satisfaction.

She had arranged this. This wasn't a random act of pack frustration; it was a choreographed execution of my dignity.

Another kick caught me in the side, and I rolled, my vision spotting black. I forced myself to look at her again. I wanted her to see that even now, even broken and bleeding in the dirt, I wouldn't scream for her mercy.

I pushed myself to my knees, spitting blood into the dust.

“Is that all?” I croaked, my eyes locked on Lyra’s.

The tall wolf stepped forward, his fist drawn back for a final blow, but the satisfaction on Lyra’s face was the only thing I could see. She thought she was watching my end. She didn't know that every blow was just another layer of my old life being beaten away.

I would make them pay. Maybe not today, but I would destroy every single one of them.