The Wolf Girl with Two Alpha Mates

Chapter 3 – Old Scars, New Bruises

By late afternoon the training yard baked under a thin, hazy sun. Concrete held the day’s heat, the air above it shimmering. Lupa liked it that way. Sweat drowned thoughts. Bruises were easier to catalogue than feelings.

“Again,” Jorin barked.

She pushed up from the mat, breath burning in her chest. Nyla stood opposite her, fists up, eyes wide with determination and just a flicker of panic.

“You drop your guard like that in the field,” Jorin went on, pacing around them, “and you’re a chew toy.”

“I won’t,” Nyla said, too fast.

“You just did.”

Lupa rolled her shoulders, shook out her hands. “He’s right. Come on.”

Nyla’s mouth twitched. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Little bit.” Lupa flashed a quick grin. “If you’re going to be glued to my flank on patrols, you don’t get to die stupid.”

That earned a snort from Kess, who was perched on the fence with a bottle of water, watching them like it was her favorite show.

“Touch gloves,” Jorin ordered. “Slow spar. Focus on footwork, not murder.”

They tapped knuckles. Nyla moved first, a tentative jab‑cross. Lupa blocked, stepped to the side, made the girl turn, feel her own momentum. Nyla was quick, all long limbs and raw promise. It hurt, sometimes, to look at her — like staring at an old photograph of herself, edges still unburned.

“Eyes,” Lupa said quietly, circling. “Don’t stare at my hands. Watch my center.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t,” Lupa grimaced. “You call me ‘ma’am’ again, I make you run stairs until you puke.”

“That’s a kink for someone,” Kess called.

“Not now, Kess,” Jorin snapped.

They moved. Jab. Block. Pivot. Nyla overcommitted on a hook; Lupa stepped in, caught her wrist, spun with the girl’s weight and took her down, gentle as she could while still making the point.

The mat thumped under Nyla’s back. Air whooshed out of her.

“See?” Lupa said, leaning over her. “You’re fast, but you think with your teeth. Use your head first.”

Nyla blinked up, cheeks flushed. “Hard to think when you’re in my face like that.”

Kess made an appreciative ooh noise.

Lupa offered Nyla a hand up. “Drink. Then we run scenarios.”

Jorin grunted approval as Nyla staggered toward the water cooler. “She’s improving.”

“She’s still green,” Lupa said.

“So were you. Once.”

The reminder landed like a small stone in her chest. Once, she’d been the golden prodigy of a different yard. Forest underfoot, not concrete. Different voice shouting instructions. Different eyes watching, proud and dark.

She scrubbed a hand over her face. Sweat, not memory.

Jorin’s gaze narrowed. “You’re tight today.”

“Lots of bodies. Little sleep.” She lifted a shoulder. “You know. Tuesday.”

He didn’t smile. “And the forest delegation?”

“Arrives tomorrow.” Her mouth went dry around the words. “Mirel briefed you?”

“On the politics, sure.” He folded his arms. “She didn’t brief me on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Lupa.” His tone went flat, the one that had shut up twenty howling teenagers at once. “You and that alpha ever sort your s**t out?”

She sucked in a breath so sharp it cut. “There is no ‘that alpha.’ There hasn’t been for years.”

“Doesn’t mean your wolf remembers it that way.”

She hated that he was right. Hated that somewhere under her scar tissue, an old bond might still twitch at the sound of a name.

“I’m Riverside,” she said, more to herself than him. “I’ve got a job. He’s just another visiting alpha.”

“Sure,” Kess drawled from the fence. “Just another alpha whose face you’re going to pretend not to look at while we all pretend not to notice.”

Lupa shot her a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be on comms duty?”

“In ten.” Kess winked. “I’m enjoying the pre‑apocalyptic drama while I can.”

Nyla jogged back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Is it true?” she blurted, then winced at Jorin’s look. “About Everwood’s alpha. That he was… your mate?”

The old word slid through the yard like a dropped blade.

Lupa felt every eye on her: Nyla’s open curiosity, Kess’s sharp interest, Jorin’s wary patience. The ghosts of others, too — whispers that had never quite left the pack.

She forced herself to breathe.

“He was,” she said. Past tense, clean and sharp. “He chose something else. I chose not to break.”

Nyla’s brows pinched. “But I thought… fate mates—”

“Sometimes fate gets overruled.” Lupa’s voice came out rougher than she wanted. “By politics. By fear. By idiots in high places.”

Jorin coughed, dragging the topic back toward safer ground. “Lesson for today, pups: the Moon doesn’t pay your rent. Your alpha does. You listen to the one who keeps you fed and breathing.”

He jerked his chin at Lupa. “Again. Real speed. Last round.”

They squared up once more. Lupa let her body fall into the rhythm — dodge, strike, breathe — while her mind skittered ahead to tomorrow’s dusk. To the city gates. To the moment when forest scent would hit her nose again, wrapped around the man who had once been every answer she thought she’d ever need.

Just another alpha, she told herself as she swayed away from Nyla’s punch.

Her wolf, restless under her skin, didn’t believe her.