Alpha Alec's Redemption by Kathy M

Alec.

The evening mist clung to the trees like breath on glass-thick and heavy. The last light of the sun bled across the sky, casting everything in gold and shadow. My warriors moved through it like ghosts, their grunts and the sharp smack of fists against flesh breaking through the quiet. I watched them. Every step. Every swing. Every mistake.

"Dren," I said, my voice low but carrying.

He froze mid-punch and turned toward me, shoulders already tense. His form wasn't bad, but I'd seen the flaw the moment he stepped into the ring.

"That right hook," I told him, stepping forward. "It's weak."

He frowned; he probably didn't like hearing it in front of the others. Good. Let that sting drive him to fix it.

"You're throwing it with your arm, not your body. You want to rattle someone's skull? You start from the ground up."

I circled him, then stopped behind him and grabbed his hip-not gently. "Power starts here. Twist into it. Drive it through your spine, not just your shoulder."

I stepped in front of him and showed him once-fast, fluid. The air cracked as my fist cut through it.

"Again."

He did it. Better this time. Not perfect, but closer.

"You're strong, Dren. But strength without form? That'll get you killed."

He nodded, jaw tight. Good. He was listening, not sulking.

I turned to the others, who had all paused to watch. I didn't need to call for their attention. I had it the moment I walked onto the field.

“Let me be clear,” I said, pacing slowly. "Your enemy won't wait for you to get it right. You train here so you survive out there. Every sloppy punch, every lazy step, every hesitation-you might as well dig your own grave and lie down in it."

the fog

Show me

fast. No one wanted to

me now. Shadow me until that hook

nod, determination flickering behind his eyes. That was

others resumed training, sweat mixing with dirt, the air sharp with focus

them, correcting stances, calling out bad habits, and pushing them

don't train for

train so war regrets

beside me-familiar, steady. I didn't need to look

was Micah. He never announced himself.

shoulder to shoulder with me, arms

he said, voice low. "Still favoring

break the

moment passed. The sun slipped lower, spilling

ready?"

ribs and stay on his feet, spitting blood and

they

this time we weren't up against vampires, witches, or other wolves. This time, we were

warriors were trained to fight the three known species. What they weren't trained for—what none

them surviving what was coming, they had to be more than what they

out, my voice ringing through

say anything else. I just turned and walked away, Micah falling

didn't know what knew. Didn't see what I'd seen. was pushing them harder than ever-and it still might not be enough. But it was the only thing I

since mid-morning, right after

taken