I walked over to the two trainers to report, but Flynn held my shoulders and turned me to face the semicircle.
"This is Sam." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Just Sam. She hasn't shifted, but she'll join us for the indoor work today."
I held back an irritated growl, waiting for him to draw some clearly unnecessary boundaries again. But Flynn was always quick to catch on.
"If you touch her," he growled, lifting his own hands off my shoulders, "she'll kick your sorry ass, and no one — not Hank nor I — will lift a finger to save you. Okay?" As he said this, he even looked around to make sure his warning landed. So did I, because wth was my trainer saying?
The guys here were all taller than I was by at least half a head, and Flynn clearly said I hadn't shifted, so there was a big fat flaw in his threat.
Did he think I could take any one of these guys down? I wasn't even absolutely sure I could take Jessica down.
I wasn't the only one thrown off by Flynn's introduction‑threat. My pack friends looked at me, concern etched on their faces, while the bigger goons studied me warily. But then, being cast in the center and forced to just stand there and take their stares really ticked me off.
I felt my face harden. "Okay," I conceded. I don't get it, but I'll make it work.
Now there was an unspoken challenge in the air, and I felt a lilting pressure from deep in my abdomen suddenly push out, rising within me like a sphere of water forming in an empty space.
This was not a new sensation. My dad had explained it, so I knew what it was — my Wolfie's power. My wolf was very strong and soon emerging, and my control had been growing with nightly training.
Imagine each sphere to be a bit of leakage of very strong, ancient bloodline alpha power as it emerges. It will all burst out when I take my first shift and my wolf gets born into the world, but for now, sometimes Wolfie was hard to contain, and sometimes Wolfie leaked out.
But while the previous occurrences happened while I was training alone in my room, this one caught me unprepared — and in front of an audience.
The sphere was also heavier and larger than any of the ones before. It had already risen for a while before I quickly started focusing my control on it to meld it into me, but it was too large, too cumbersome, and my efforts were too little, too late. It wobbled a little like jelly, and then—pop!
Something in me just snapped.
Grrrr…
The hall was silent as if everyone had stopped breathing at the same time. I could only hear a low, long, threatening growl coming from—
Wait.
It's coming from me.
What the heck.
Hank stepped in now, loudly clapping his hands to break up the tension before anything else happened, "Alright pups! Control training, on the mat!"
It worked as if waking us all from a disorientating dream, the trainees began moving, growls and groans grumbled out. The semicircle broke up in jagged pieces.
I blinked but didn't move from my position. Maybe I should have. But I crossed my arms and watched the trainees shuffle around setting up the large gym mats.
Hank snarled at their shoddy behavior. I still hadn't moved from where I stood next to him, but his snarl was directed at the others.
Meet Hank.
Hank and Flynn had been best friends and training partners since they were pups. Hank's mate is a girl from our pack, the lovely Esther, who bakes the most heavenly treats, so I love her.
Anyway, the snarling Hank tonight was very different from the gentle smiling one who watched Esther mix batter while Jessica, Dean and I stuffed our faces with cupcakes in the pack house kitchen.
Maybe this was Hank's trainer mode. His snarl turned into a full-scale roar, and suddenly all the mats were in place. Except for mine — until Flynn dropped the heavy large mat in front of me. Flynn was being unusually accommodating tonight too.
I looked at him, but he just dropped his eyes and stepped back. Something was off… but what? I stood there, watching, somewhat impassively because I wasn't sure what I was expecting from my first Thursday training session. I hadn't really thought about it - I didn't even know I was supposed to join them tonight. This was the bigger cooler teen training session right?
But everyone was just standing there, not making eye contact. They weren't event looking at anything in particular. At first I thought they had started control training, but a second look told me they hadn't. There was a long uneasy pause. I watched them not meet my eyes and felt a surprising surge of satisfaction.
It was like I won an unspoken fight, except that I wasn't fighting… It was like the moment my Wolfie's power popped, everything around me became surreal.
After searching for some clue as to what was happening and finding none, I looked to Hank - he was the lead trainer tonight, right? And the moment I looked at him, it was as if something clicked. He stepped up and started briefing us on the training activity.
I usually practiced my control training alone, quietly in my room — focusing on melding with my wolf or absorbing the watery spheres that sometimes rose up into myself. Sometimes I focused the power to enhance passive werewolf abilities, like speeding up healing (which felt like pushing on stone wall) or increasing dominance (which came as naturally as breathing).
I could also improve my senses, widen their parameters, or speed up my movements to a very limited extent. Until I shift and my wolf becomes fully mature, I could only do limited things, and only to a limited extent.
Because the other teens were older, taller, and shifted, I was a little nervous. And I became even more on guard when Hank said we would be challenging one another on the mat.
We were not necessarily fighting. We could use any kind of power we had, boosting it with our control training. The aim was simple: get your opponent off the mat.
Compared to training alone in my room, this actually sounded fun. I surprised myself with my own anticipation. It was my chance to exert my dominance…
And wow. I guess Hank and Flynn weren't the only ones out of character today. I'd always thought of myself as a mellow alpha.
Most alpha males were domineering and aggressive. This was more fact than stereotype. I had always assumed I wasn't because I was a girl. But tonight, it was as if I was looking for a legit reason to push someone hard. Or punch something…
I remembered the wreckage I caused in the girls' washroom this morning. Yeah, not my mellowest moment either.
But it was nothing compared to right now. And suddenly, I knew what was off.
Me.
It was me.
I'm not feeling like myself at all. It was as if a forcefield of assertion was blazing around me.
And Hank, Flynn, and the other wolves were reacting to it instinctively.
I was the alpha.
While I was realizing this, Hank finished up his briefing and asked for two volunteers. We'll start with a demonstration run. The rest of us should watch and take our turns — two trainees sparring at a time while Hank gave pointers.
Naturally, the two packs split. Night Leaf on one side, and Morning Light goons on the other. The big goons were quicker choosing and a tall teen stepped onto demo mat.
Beta. I knew by sight — not because I recognized him, but because he had a powerful wolf backing him, close to maturity, so the ranking was rather obvious.
What was the name of the Morning Light Beta's son? Harley? Hardy? Harhar?
"It's Harvey!" my Night Leaf side whispered. A ripple of panic. Link and Kevy exchanged looks. I suppose they were trying to decide who had a better chance.
In such situations, I was usually cautious — I'd watch the demonstration, assess a few more rounds before stepping up to the mat myself. I liked to know what I was getting into.
But I wasn't myself tonight.
I wasn't myself when I didn't feel embarrassed at Flynn's introduction.
I wasn't myself when I didn't help set up the mats.
I wasn't myself when I growled at everyone.
I definitely wasn't myself when I didn't care that Flynn set up my mat for me — neither mortified that it would be perceived as "alpha daughter special treatment," nor thankful for his help on my first session with the older teens.
Or maybe — this was exactly myself as I should be.
I was the alpha.
And before Link or Kevy could decide who would face the big goon's beta, definitely before I could think twice, I stepped onto the mat and faced Harvey.
I stood at my full 5'4", but Harvey was easily taller by at least a head. I was 14, turning 15. My wolf was still emerging.
Harvey's wolf was mature — I was guessing he had to be at least 17. Strong. Definitely beta. His build and bearing made it quite clear he was already a trained warrior.
His expression was concerned when I first stepped up, but he showed no fear.
"Oh no," his pack bemoaned, "Harvey doesn't hit girls."
"It's just a demonstration, don't worry," he said to his goon friends, but he also looked at me and nodded as if to reassure me too.
His consideration was wasted. I had already begun focusing my control, pulling my power up for quick access. It wasn't hard — I was heady with it after the bubble pop. I was burning to kick butt and inflict some alpha-level pain, but this beta goon was friendly and calm.
"I don't hit girls," Harvey reassured me again.
"I don't hit nice guys either," I told him.
Hank blew the whistle for us to begin.
"Ladies first," Harvey said lightly, standing alert and giving me first move.
I nodded and exerted alpha dominance immediately. I didn't use full force, but I didn't hold back either. Then I looked Harvey squarely in his eyes and alpha commanded, "Step off the mat."
Around us, the other wolves were looking down, and a few actually stepped backward.
Harvey stood his ground.
I stepped toward him — he didn't flinch. Instead, he inclined his head in submission.
I stopped just out of reach to regard this beta.
"Good beta," I decided.
Goddess, please let Ben grow up like this.
I released the dominance I was holding over him, and the heavy static air shifted. Only then did I realize the overspill when our onlookers stirred too.
Harvey took an even breath and lifted his head again.
"Your turn," I told him.
I waited for him to consider his options. He wasn't stupid. He should know full well by now that exerting his beta dominance would be futile against my alpha wolf. He would have to work with his advantages, which would likely be a physical attack. Except he didn't hit girls. Would he make an exception for me? He didn't attack.
"You can also just step off the mat," I offered.
He moved then — charging with enhanced wolf speed.
S***. I had let down my guard.
I pulled my fist up to block, but Harvey had other ideas — he lifted me by the waist. Was he trying to physically throw me off?
I jerked my knee up and hard to his stomach. He nearly dropped me but only nearly. I twisted and propelled myself toward the mat instead. I would have face‑planted, but he grabbed my t‑shirt from behind and pulled me upright.
What the hell? Why was he helping me?
"Are you going to fight seriously?" I alpha‑demanded, twisting to face him. I was growling now. I wanted a fight. I wanted a reason to punch something. But he wasn't giving me one, setting me gingerly down.
Once he was sure I was able to stand (of course I was!), he stepped back, bowing his head again.
I was fuming dominance by now. I couldn't help it. I was that mad.
"I have a sister," he said, as if that explained anything. "You might be the same age."
Hmmm? A beta girl my age?
"Does she train here too?" I wanted to know, my anger momentarily distracted.
"In our pack, females don't train to be warriors," Harvey answered.
That explained the all‑goon attendance at our training hall tonight.
Speaking of goons — one had enough of our chit‑chat.
"Are you two gonna be flirting here the whole night?" he scoffed. He was as tall as Harvey but broader.
"Your Gamma?" I asked Harvey, though I knew it was unlikely. He was strong, but his wolf lacked the inbuilt authority of a Gamma bloodline.
"No. Our gamma will be Nix. He's at Wednesday training." Harvey explained. I caught his subtle hand signal for his goon-friend to stand down. But you know how goon-friends are like. This one stomped onto the mat and shoved his own beta aside.
Stupid.
I hung back to give Harvey space. The mat wasn't large and from Harvey's expression, I didn't think he'd just stand still after that.
Harvey didn't miss a beat. He grabbed the intruder's shoulder, turned him, grabbed his throat with the other hand, and growled low:
"F*** off."
Then, with a sharp shove, he pushed his friend off the mat. His strength was well placed. The goon was off the mat, but had not been pushed off his feet.
Nice one, beta. Alpha approved!
But this goon was stubborn, "Come on Harv, tag me in."
At this point, it became obvious to me why this goon dared to assert himself. They were good friends, and based on their symmetry in size, probably training partners.
Lightbulb.
"Yeah beta. It's okay. Tag him in." I made sure not to smirk or otherwise give away my tiny bit of scheming. (It was always the hardest part of my cunning.)
Harvey took a moment. He glanced at me, then at his goon. I couldn't be sure who he was worrying for, but he finally nodded and the two guys did this high-five-hand-grab thing and switched places.
The sound of a shrill whistle penetrated the air.
"Harvey is out," Hank announced.
The look on Harvey's face! It was doubly funny because it was mirrored on his goon-friend's face. Hahahahahaha! (I won).
"What the hell! That's f***ed up!" the goon all but screamed at Hank.
"You say, 'That's f***ed up, sir,'" Flynn corrected from where he was watching. "We are your trainers."
"And it wasn't like..." I waved a hand, "like what you said."
Because it's socially unacceptable for young girls, no matter how alpha to repeat those words (out loud), but I made my point anyway, "The rule was that we could use any way to get the opponent off the mat."
"You planned this?" the goon glared at me incredulously.
"No, how could I? I just took advantage of your beta's weakness-" I poke the goon on his pecs —his stupid friend."
Goon so mad now he swung, I ducked. Hank blew hard on the whistle. Flynn was shouting "Match over!"
But I was busy kicking Goon's legs out. He fell. I scrambled back. Timbre!!!
Oh, no time to make bad jokes. Goon was actually pretty agile for all that bulk. I managed to throw in a few quick punches, but only landed one on his shoulder. Crap. I underestimated him.
He attacked. I smelled blood—
But I had dodged? Weird.
I jumped back to avoid taking his swing, but for some reason, I didn't land back on the mat. Someone had caught me midair, his whistle's shrill blow hurting my ears. It was specifically my right ear, so I jabbed my right elbow behind me, but my arm was caught by Hank's large hand. Grrr….
So I reached back with my other hand, grabbed the whistle from Hank's lips, and threw it. Hard.
It hit the floor with such force, it bounced and shot off to the side of the hall.
Hank still had me by the scruff of my t‑shirt, my feet barely kicking the floor. I growled, then forced myself limp.
Immediately, I was set back on my feet… ah, but now I was no longer on the mat. It was over.
On the other side, Flynn and Harvey were still wrestling the goon down. The goon thrashed. Stupid.
Harvey shook him hard on the shoulder.
"Stand down!" He commanded. Then it was quiet.
Flynn and Harvey tentatively released the goon. He was still heaving, eyes crazed with fight, but when he made no move to charge, they stepped away. Harvey patted him on the back. The goon visibly calmed and nodded a quick bow.
Good beta.
And of course, like any good beta, he was the one who noticed it, a fist print of blood on the shoulder of this stupid friend's white t-shirt. "What the-" he turned to me.
Flynn turned to me.
Hank caught on and pulled my right hand up by the wrist. He was the one standing next to me after all, so I guess he also smelled the blood on my glove. He tugged the wet glove off. The wounds from this morning had ruptured again.
Flynn stomped over, eyes turning dark with anger.
So much for keeping it from Flynn.
"It looks worse than it is!" I quickly said. It was true too. It wasn't that much blood - most of the red was just smeared all over my hand by the glove.
But of course Flynn wasn't in the mood to be placated. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"
In hindsight, punching a stupid goon built like a wall of bricks hadn't been my best idea.