Selena's POV

If anyone had told me yesterday that I would willingly walk toward Alpha Darius after having my heart ripped out, I would've laughed in their face. Or cried. Or both.

But here I was, stepping across the training grounds, ignoring the curious glances from wolves who were definitely whispering behind my back.

I didn't blame them.

Yesterday, I was the girl everyone expected to become the future Luna beside Kael. Today... well, today my mate slept with my sister, and apparently the whole pack already knew.

Thanks, gossip network.

Darius didn't move as I approached. He just stood there, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. The sun caught in the strands of his dark hair, making it look almost too soft for a man who could tear a warrior apart with one hand.

He watched me the way a wolf watches a shifting wind, curious, cold, attentive.

I tried not to show how nervous I was. My heartbeat was embarrassingly loud in my ears. My palms were sweating. And I felt... exposed, somehow, like he could see straight through the steel mask I was trying to wear.

"Alpha," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He nodded once. "Selena."

The way he said my name, it wasn't soft, but it wasn't harsh either. Just firm and sure. A tone that didn't allow space for lies.

I swallowed. "Can we talk?"

A subtle furrow formed between his brows. "About what?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to sound desperate or broken. I didn't want pity. I wanted... control. Even if I barely had any.

"Training," I lied smoothly. "I want to return."

His eyes flicked over me, slow and deliberate. I fought not to shift under the intensity. Darius didn't just look at people, he assessed them, measured them, saw too much.

"You haven't come in weeks," he said. Not accusing. Just stating fact.

"I know." I forced my shoulders straight. "I'm ready to continue."

Darius let silence stretch for a moment. He had a way of doing that, letting quiet do more damage than words. It made me feel like he was peeling me apart without touching me.

Finally, he spoke. "Something happened."

It wasn't a question.

I blinked once, twice. "I don't know what you mean."

"Your scent is different," he said evenly. "Your wolf is quieter. And your aura is... unsettled."

I stiffened. "Everyone has bad days."

He didn't look convinced. In fact, his gaze sharpened like he was about to push, and I panicked. I wasn't ready to talk about Kael, about Lyria, about anything that would make this wound bleed again.

So I did what any wounded person would do.

I lied harder.

"I had a disagreement with someone," I said quickly. "But it doesn't matter. I want to train again."

Darius watched me for a long moment, far too long. Long enough that my pulse stuttered and my stomach twisted with the fear that he saw right through every word.

Then he nodded.

"Fine."

Relief dropped through me so fast I almost sagged in place. But before I could catch my breath, he added,

"But you train with me."

My eyes widened. "W-with you?"

He stepped closer but not too close, just enough that his presence pressed lightly against my skin like a physical thing.

"Yes," he said calmly. "If you truly want to return, you will train under me directly."

My heart skipped.

This wasn't part of the plan at least not yet.

"I-I thought I'd rejoin with the other warriors," I said.

"No." His voice left no room for negotiation. "If you were absent because of weakness, I need to know. If you were absent because of distraction, I need to fix it. And if you were absent because something or... someone hurt you..."

He paused.

"...then I'll deal with it."

My stomach tightened, a strange warmth crawled up my spine at his words, and I hated how easily those four syllables, I'll deal with it, made something in me melt.

I turned away so he wouldn't see the swirl of emotions on my face.

Darius wasn't my mate, he wasn't supposed to comfort me, wasn't supposed to notice me at all.

But here he was, noticing too much.

I swallowed hard. "Alright. I'll train under you."

His nod was barely perceptible, but I sensed approval in it. "Good. We start now."

I blinked at him. "Now?"

"Yes. Unless you prefer to go back to bed and cry about whatever you're pretending didn't happen."

My mouth fell open, colour raising to my cheeks in embarrassment.

"Excuse me?"

A faint, very faint curve tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Your eyes are still swollen. And you're wearing enough perfume to mask your mood. Poorly."

More heat rushed to my cheeks.

Gods.

Leave it to an Alpha to ruin every ounce of composure with two sentences.

"I wasn't crying," I muttered.

He arched a brow.

My shoulders slumped. "...okay, maybe I cried. A little."

"A little?" he asked.

I glared weakly. "Are you going to keep interrogating me or train me?"

"Training," he said immediately, as if he hadn't just roasted me alive.

* * *

The training

I regretted agreeing to train under him thirty seconds later. Darius didn't go easy, heck, he didn't even go medium. He went full Alpha mode, fast, precise, controlled, testing everything from my footwork to my ability to stay upright.

And I hated how right he was.

My wolf was quiet, body wasn't in sync and my focus slid every time my chest tightened or a memory of last night crept in.

At one point I missed a block so badly my wrist stung.

Darius stepped back abruptly. "Enough."

I let out a shaky breath, wiping sweat from my forehead. "You're stopping because I'm sloppy, right? I know I messed up. I'm trying..."

"You're hurting."

The words made me freeze and my heartbeat throbbed in my throat.

"No," I whispered. "I'm angry."

"You're both," he said simply.

I looked away, jaw tight.

And then, quietly, so quietly I almost missed it he said,

"Who hurt you?"

It shouldn't have affected me as much as it did. Maybe it was the tone, low, steady, not demanding, not prying. Just... asking... genuinely.

My throat burned and I almost told him.Kael hurt me.

Lyria betrayed me, Everything I believed in has shattered.

But the words stayed stuck to my throat.

Because telling Darius meant giving power to the pain. And I wasn't ready for anyone not even an Alpha, to see that I was bleeding inside.

So I did the only thing I could.

I stepped back, shaking my head. "It doesn't matter."

His eyes darkened a shade. Not angry. Just... narrowing. Like he was memorizing the lie for later.

"It clearly matters," he said.

I clenched my fists. "Alpha, please. I just want to train."

The moment the word "Alpha" left my lips, something shifted in his expression. Barely but it happened. His jaw tightened, his shoulders straightened.

His attention sharpened on me.

It felt like the air thickened.

He stepped closer, close enough that I felt heat radiating from him. Close enough that if I took one step back, it would look like fear.

And he watched me, really watched me.

For a moment, it felt like he could see the sorrow I tried to bury behind my eyes. The betrayal sitting heavy in my chest. The fury simmering low in my stomach.

And the part of me that was dangerously considering him not as my Alpha, but as a man.

Finally, he spoke. Low but firm.

"If someone in this pack hurt you, Selena," Darius said, "I will know. Whether you tell me or not."

A shiver slipped down my spine not in fear but something else, something I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

But his gaze held mine until I had no choice but to look back.

And in that second, I realized something that scared me more than my breakup. More than betrayal. More than any revenge plan.

Darius saw me, nott the warrior, not the betrayed mate, not the girl trying to act strong.

He saw the cracks and he wasn't looking away.

* * *

His unexpected softness, Darius exhaled through his nose, something like restraint passing through his eyes, and then he stepped back, giving me space again.

Space I didn't realize I'd needed until he moved.

"We're done for today," he said.

My shoulders sagged with exhaustion and disappointment. "I can still go another round."

"You're tired," he replied.

"So what? I can push through..."

"Selena."

Just my name firm, steady like quietly commanding, my protest died

"You fought hard today," he said. "Harder than you think."

And damn it, it meant something. That he noticed. That he didn't treat me like I was fragile or broken.

I nodded, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Alright."

Darius turned away, but stopped after two steps. His head tilted slightly, as if he sensed something.

He didn't look at me when he spoke.

"But whatever happened to you..."

His voice softened, barely, but enough for my chest to tighten.

"...it won't break you."

My eyes burned, for the second time that morning.

I whispered, "You sound awfully sure."

"I am," he said.

And then he walked away without waiting for a response.

Leaving me standing there, trying to understand why those five words

It won't break you, felt like a hand pressed carefully over the cracks in my heart.

Selena's POV

I didn't sleep well that night, not because of the familiar ache in my chest, though that was there, pulsing like a live wire. Not because of Kael's face, twisted in my mind with betrayal, though he haunted me. I didn't sleep because of Darius.

I kept replaying his words, over and over, like a heartbeat I couldn't stop listening to, "It won't break you."

Why did it feel like a promise? Why did it feel like a concern? My body still tensed at the memory of his gaze, so sharp it seemed capable of cutting through me, but so careful it almost... protected me.

By dawn, I was already awake, tossing my sheets aside, restless. My wolf stirred, unsettled, pacing, whispering the same anxious questions my mind wouldn't stop asking, Can I trust him? Should I? Can I even want to?

When I finally made my way to the training grounds, the air was crisp, still heavy with the scent of dew and wet earth. Darius was already there. Leaning against a post, arms folded over his chest, watching me like I hadn't noticed, like he had been expecting me.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and tried to look indifferent. Tried to wear the mask I'd perfected over years. Alpha or not, he could see through it.

"You're early," he said, voice low and even, but not without that subtle edge that made me feel caught before I even spoke.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, shrugging, even though my shoulders were tight with tension.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He just gestured toward the sparring area. "Start with warm-ups, then drills, then we fight."

Fight. The word hit my stomach like a fist.

I wanted to argue, wanted to say, I'm not ready, I'm not strong enough, I'm... broken. But the moment I opened my mouth, the words caught in my throat. Darius wasn't offering me pity. He was offering me accountability. The chance to prove, at least to myself, that I could stand again.

So I just nodded and began.

* * *

The Warm-Up

My muscles protested immediately, tight from disuse and grief. I tried to shake it off, to remember the rhythm, the movements that had once been second nature.

Darius circled me silently, his eyes flicking over every step, every breath.

"You're tense," he said quietly, almost conversationally, though I knew better. "Not just your muscles. Your mind."

I clenched my jaw. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" His voice held a dry humor that made my skin crawl. "Fine doesn't look like this. Fine doesn't make you weak."

I froze.

"You feel that?" he continued, voice low. "The way your wolf is holding back? The way your body is braced for impact?"

"Yes," I whispered, embarrassed. "It's... instinct."

"Instinct doesn't work when your heart is a mess," he said sharply. "And right now, your heart is a mess."

He wasn't wrong, my chest felt tight, hollow, fragile. I hated that he was right. Hated that he could see it.

"You don't have to hide from me," he said, stepping closer. "But if you do, your fight ends before it begins."

I swallowed hard, my pride and stubbornness fought my vulnerability, tugging me in opposite directions. Finally, I nodded. "Understood."

* * *

Drills

The drills were more brutal. Darius pushed me harder than anyone had in years. Every punch, every block, every movement was scrutinized. He corrected me when my footwork was messy. He corrected me when my guard dropped. He corrected me when I hesitated.

And every time he corrected me, he didn't just teach me technique. He saw through the mess inside me, pointing it out with a precision that hurt.

"You're distracted," he said after a particularly sloppy combination. My fists had missed their mark, my feet had stumbling and I had barely landed a solid hit.

"I'm not," I lied, voice tight.

"Yes, you are." His tone was so calm, so firm, I couldn't argue. "You're thinking about someone who doesn't deserve your thoughts. Someone who betrayed you. You're thinking about them instead of the fight in front of you and that's why you fail."

It was humiliating, but more than that, it was... honest. And I hated it.

"I don't care about them right now," I said, teeth gritted.

"Liar," he muttered under his breath, and then loud enough for me to hear, "Don't waste your lies on me."

I flinched, the word liar cut deeper than a blade. Not because it wasn't true, but because he said it with such clarity that I had no choice but to face myself.

"You can't outrun pain," he said quietly, circling me again. "You can't hit it, kick it, shove it aside. It's part of you, accept it, train with it, use it. Or it'll always be faster than you."

I blinked, my body trembling not from exhaustion, but from the weight of his words.

* * *

The Fight

When he finally said, "Fight," I realized I was already shaking, my heart thudding against my ribs that felt too tight.

Darius didn't hold back. Not a single time. He moved faster than I could anticipate. His strikes were precise, calculated, controlled. My defense was clumsy, my counterattacks weak. Every time I stumbled, he corrected me, but never harshly, always like he expected failure, but also expected me to rise.

"Again," he said after I barely landed a hit.

And I did.

Again and again, until my muscles burned and my lungs screamed.

But through it all, his eyes never left me. They weren't judgmental. Not entirely. They were... assessing, studying me. Watching me survive, watching me falter, watching me push past it anyway.

And somewhere between the sting of bruised ribs and the ache in my arms, I realized, I wanted to impress him, not for Kael, not for anyone else but for him.

I hated that I wanted that. Hated that my body reacted to the brush of his presence, the sound of his calm voice, the way he never let me hide my mistakes.

* * *

A Moment Between Punches

At some point, during a brief pause to catch our breaths, he said quietly,

"You're stronger than you think."

I wanted to laugh, i wanted to cry, I wanted to tell him he had no idea what betrayal felt like. But the words felt... right. It wasn't flattery, or just encouragement, it was the truth.

"You make it sound easy," I muttered, breathing heavily from fatigue.

"I make it sound easy because it should feel possible," he said. "Pain doesn't last forever and weakness is temporary. Fear to me is a... choice."

I stared at him, heart hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with training. And for a brief moment, I let myself imagine not about Kael, or Lyria but Darius.

Not as an Alpha, not as a teacher, not as a judge but as someone who might stand beside me, someone who might see me, not broken me or the betrayed me but as a whole person still capable of being dangerous and beautiful.

I shook the thought away, quick. Dangerous. Dangerous. That word echoed in my mind like a drumbeat.

Darius didn't comment. But I could feel him noticing anyway.

* * *

Aftermath

By the time training ended, sweat slicked my hair to my forehead, my muscles ached, and my wolf had stopped pacing. My body was exhausted so was my mind.

Darius didn't offer words of praise, didn't hand me comfort. Instead, he did something infinitely worse and better.

He looked at me, really looked.

"You survived," he said simply.

"Barely," I muttered, wiping blood from a grazed knuckle.

"Barely still counts," he replied, and I realized that in his voice, barely was acknowledgment, respect.

I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. I nodded.

And then, without another word, he turned and left.

I stayed there, alone on the training grounds, feeling the weight of the silence he left behind. A silence that wasn't emptiness. A silence that felt like... attention.

And somehow, terrifyingly, it was more intimate than Kael had ever been with me.

* * *

Evening

Later, I found myself walking back through the pack grounds, the twilight stretching long and thin. The pack was quiet, subdued. They hadn't asked me about last night, hadn't whispered openly, but I knew. They watched, they always watched.

I let my wolf step forward, finally letting her scent mingle with mine, untamed, raw, and uncontrolled. She was restless too, but calmer than earlier. And I realized I wasn't scared for her anymore, not entirely.

Because Darius had seen me. And he hadn't recoiled.

I didn't know what would come next. I didn't know if I could handle him, his presence, his gaze, his control. I didn't know if I could stand the way he made me feel... noticed, challenged and exposed.

But I knew one thing.

I wanted to find out.

No matter how much it scared me.

* * *

The night were lengthening. The night would fall. But something in me had shifted, dangerous and undeniable.

Darius had found the cracks I thought I could hide. And somehow... I didn't want to patch them.

I wanted him to see them and I wanted him to stay.

The thought made my pulse spike in ways I was neither ready for nor entirely willing to admit.

Selena's POV

The morning air bit at my skin as I stepped outside, and I realized I was already waiting. Waiting for Darius. Waiting for a chance to see if the fire I'd felt yesterday under his gaze, under his hands, under the rhythm of training was real or just a dangerous illusion my tired mind had conjured.

I hated that I wanted it to be real.

The pack grounds were quiet, still wet from the early dew, the scent of grass heavy in the air. I moved carefully, each step a little hesitant. My wolf prowled alongside me, restless, sensing tension I wasn't fully aware of yet.

And then I saw him.

Darius stood at the edge of the training arena, shadowed by the rising sun, his posture effortless but alert. He didn't look at me right away. He watched the perimeter, the wind, the faint rustle of leaves, and the subtle shifts in the pack's aura. Alpha instincts, I thought bitterly, always observing, always controlling. Always knowing more than anyone had a right to.

He turned when I called his name, and that simple action of turning, looking at me made my chest constrict.

"Selena," he said, voice low, steady, commanding.

"Alpha," I replied automatically, but the word sounded hollow even to me.

His eyes didn't soften. They never did. But there was a weight in them, an unspoken acknowledgment of what had happened yesterday. Of the fight, of the vulnerability, of the cracks I didn't know how to hide.

"Are you ready?" he asked, tone deceptively casual.

I squared my shoulders, trying to push down the tremor in my fingers. "I think so."

He nodded, slow, deliberate, like he was measuring every word, every thought. "Then follow me."

* * *

Training (in Silence)

We moved together through drills that felt endless. My muscles ached, my lungs burned, and my mind struggled to keep up with the rhythm he demanded. There was no small talk, no easy camaraderie. Just movement and focus. Just the way he looked at me like he could see every hesitation, every hidden thought.

And the more he watched, the more I realized how badly I wanted to impress him. Not to win his approval, not exactly, but to prove something to myself. That I wasn't weak, that I wasn't broken, that I could stand.

At one point, I stumbled during a combination, catching myself just before my ankle twisted. Darius's hand shot out, gripping my waist, steadying me.

"Careful," he said quietly.

The simple contact, the weight of his palm, the firmness of his grip, sent heat straight through me. I jerked slightly, embarrassed, and stepped back.

"You're distracted," he said, eyes narrowing. "Your mind isn't in the fight. It's elsewhere. And elsewhere doesn't win fights."

I wanted to tell him everything, wanted to spill the betrayal, the heartbreak, the fury, the loneliness. But I didn't. Instead, I clenched my fists and focused on breathing, on movement, on surviving his gaze.

"I'm here," I said tightly.

"You're present," he replied, voice flat, almost approving. "Now be effective."

* * *

By the time we finished, sweat clinging to my hair and skin, I felt something I hadn't felt in days... alive. Not healed, not whole, but alive. And when I looked at Darius, standing there, calm and composed, I realized he felt it too.

He didn't praise me, he didn't smile, hee didn't even say the words that might have made my pulse spike in fear and desire all at once. But there was acknowledgment.

And maybe that was enough... for now.

"You did well," he said simply, stepping closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of him, pine, leather, something sharp that made my pulse hitch.

"thank you but barely," I muttered, wiping the blood from a grazed knuckle.

"it still counts," he replied, and I realized the words weren't dismissal.

I wanted to argue, to tell him I was stronger than he thought, that I didn't need anyone to see me this way. But I couldn't. The weight of his gaze pinned me in place, but I didn't want to move.

"Tomorrow," he said finally, breaking the silence, "we start again."

I nodded, heart hammering. And when he walked away, leaving me alone in the cooling air, I realized that whatever this was, whatever dangerous pull he had over me, I was already caught.

* * *

That night, I found myself wandering through the pack grounds, unable to sleep, unable to stop replaying every word, every glance, every touch from earlier.

My wolf padded silently in my head, restless, sensitive to the tension I didn't fully understand yet. And then, somewhere deep in the quiet, I spoke aloud.

"I don't understand him," I whispered. "I don't understand why..."

There was no answer. Not from him, not from anyone. Only the rustle of leaves, the faint scent of night, and the steady, calming presence of my wolf.

I let my hands trail over the rough bark of a tree, feeling the texture beneath my fingertips, grounding myself. And somewhere in that grounding, I realized something dangerous.

I wanted him to notice me, not as the Alpha, not as the teacher, not as the distant, untouchable force he was supposed to be. I wanted him to see me. All of me.

And that thought, terrifying, thrilling, and ridiculous made my pulse spike in ways I wasn't prepared to admit.

I wanted to use him but I also want him.

And the realization didn't just shock me. It scared me.

* * *

The following days were a blur of training, silent observations, subtle corrections, and moments that made my body ache in ways I couldn't name.

Darius didn't soften, not really, not yet. But there were flashes, moments when his eyes lingered too long, or his hand brushed mine just slightly during a correction, or he said something quietly, almost to himself, that made my stomach flip.

And with every session, the pull between us grew stronger.

I hated that I craved it, hated that I wanted to see him, to fight, to be near him. Hated that my body responded to the heat in his presence, the steady, unwavering attention, the rare flickers of softness he let slip through.

But most of all, I hated that I knew he was aware. That he was testing me as much as I was testing myself.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the pack grounds glowed gold, he stopped mid-training.

"You're improving," he said quietly. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear. "Faster than I expected."

I blinked, caught off guard. "You make it sound... easy."

"Easy?" He arched a brow. "Nothing about you is easy, Selena. Nothing about you ever was. And I don't think anything about you ever will be. Not for me. Not for anyone who actually sees you."

The words landed like a weight, pressing into me, making my pulse spike and my chest tighten.

"Good," I whispered.

He didn't answer. He just watched me, calm, steady, like a storm held at bay.

And I realized, finally, that I didn't want him to look away.

Later, alone in my room, I traced the bruises forming along my forearms, the ones he didn't inflict but the ones I earned in the fight with myself.

I thought about Kael, thought about Lyria. Thought about betrayal and heartbreak, and how easily it had all shattered me.

And then I thought about Darius. About the way he saw me. About the dangerous pull between us. About how his gaze could strip me bare without a single touch.

And somewhere deep inside, I admitted it to myself:

I wasn't ready, i couldn't be ready after everything that has happened. But I wanted him anyway.

Wanted the fight, wanted the tension. Wanted the impossible, infuriating connection that made my pulse race and my wolf growl with anticipation.

And for the first time in days, I didn't feel entirely broken.

I felt... alive.