The Rejected Luan's Chosen Path

Chapter 3: The She-Wolf's Test

Rule

I stalked back to my quarters in the palace barracks, the cool night air brushing against my skin, doing little to shake the gnawing thoughts swirling in my head. The moonlight cast long shadows across the stone corridors, and the steady thud of my boots echoed against the ancient walls. The folder the General had handed me felt heavier than it should, its contents stirring something deep inside—something I didn’t have time for.

Pushing the door open to my room, the familiar scent of leather and steel greeted me like an old friend—my sanctuary. The walls were bare, save for a few weapons mounted for easy access—blades that had tasted blood and scars from battles long past. Simple. Efficient. Devoid of distractions.

I tossed the folder onto my desk with a thud and peeled off my training jacket. The fabric clung to my skin after a grueling day of drills. My muscles ached, but it was a familiar pain—the kind I welcomed. Pain kept me sharp and focused. But tonight, something was off.

I sank into the chair, the wood creaking under my weight, and flipped the folder open. My eyes landed on her picture first. Angelina. The name echoed in my mind as I stared at the image of the she-wolf with ebony hair and eyes that seemed to pierce through the photograph. Stunning didn’t even begin to cover it. Her beauty was effortless, natural—the kind that could make a lesser male forget himself. But I wasn’t a lesser male.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts. I didn’t have time for females, especially not she-wolves. They were always tied to someone—mates, bonds, destinies. And even if they weren’t, they never stayed. They didn’t do permanent unless you were a mate. Not like my kind did. Lycans find a mate as wolves do, but our bond is different, and finding a mate is nearly impossible for my kind.

I’d had relationships in the past—fleeting, meaningless connections that never lingered long enough to matter. I’d never let anyone close. As a Lycan, I’d been alone for centuries, watching our kind dwindle with every passing decade. Lycan breeding was nearly impossible, and our numbers had thinned to the brink of extinction. Most choose to end their endless existence due to loneliness or Lycan madness. Unlike them, I’d made my peace with solitude long ago.

But something about her… I ran my fingers over the edge of the file, my mind unwilling to let it go. Why would a young she-wolf that looks like her want to join the Elite instead of finding a mate? What was she running from? Or towards?

I tossed the file onto the desk and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The questions churned in my mind, refusing to settle. Whatever her reasons, it didn’t matter. She was just another recruit—and I’d make sure she was treated like one. No exceptions.

The next morning, the training yard was alive with the sounds of clashing weapons and the grunts of exertion. The crisp morning air bit at my skin as I made my way across the packed dirt, my eyes scanning the familiar faces of my enforcers. Thorn and Dax were already waiting, their usual smirks in place.

Thorn was tall and lean, his frame deceptively wiry, but his quick reflexes and sharp tongue made him one of the most formidable enforcers under my command. His jet-black hair was cropped close to his head, and his piercing blue eyes missed nothing. Thorn had a reputation for being ruthless in training, but he earned respect through sheer skill and unrelenting discipline.

Dax, on the other hand, was a mountain of a man. Built like a tank, his brute strength was unmatched, but it was his surprising strategic mind that made him dangerous. His sandy blond hair fell in messy waves over his forehead, and his gray eyes gleamed with a mix of humor and menace. Dax had a knack for breaking recruits down, but he was fair—in his own twisted way.

“We’ve got a new recruit to add to our roster,” I announced, tossing the file onto the bench between them.

Thorn picked it up first, his brow arching as he whistled low. “She’s a looker.”

“And that’s all she is until she proves otherwise,” I snapped, my voice leaving no room for argument.

Dax chuckled, glancing at the photo over Thorn’s shoulder. “You want us to go easy on her?”

I shot him a glare that could freeze blood. “I want you to work her to her limit as you would the others. No special treatment. She’s not some fragile thing that needs coddling. She’s here to become Elite, and she’ll earn it like everyone else. Understand?”

Thorn and Dax exchanged a look, their smirks widening.

“Got it, boss,” Thorn said, his tone dripping with amusement. “We’ll make sure she feels right at home.”

Dax nodded, his grin feral. “Let’s see if the pretty face has teeth.”

I felt a flicker of satisfaction. Whatever Angelina’s reasons for being here, she was about to find out that the path to becoming Elite wasn’t paved with kindness. She’d be pushed, broken, and rebuilt—if she could survive it.

But as I walked away, that image of her haunted me—the fire in her eyes, the determination etched into every line of her face. I shook my head again, trying to dislodge the thoughts.

She was just another recruit. And I’d make damn sure I treated her like one.

But deep down, I knew—this she-wolf was going to be trouble.