Two

SEBASTIAN’S POV

The yard was cold at 4 a.m., the kind of morning that made lungs ache and fingers stiff. Mist hovered close to the ground, curling around boots, hitting noses and cheeks. Perfect conditions to separate the steady from the reckless.

I stood with Lou and head of our Shadow's Kieran, at the head of the formation, watching twenty of our warriors line up, stretching, adjusting stances, testing the morning air. Lou was already barking instructions, fists swinging to demonstrate form, exaggerating every movement in his usual, overly enthusiastic style. Kieran crouched slightly, calm and measured, correcting stances and footwork with a single precise word.

I observed both, letting them lead, while keeping my own stance and movement tight and deliberate. The Alpha’s presence mattered — they needed to see discipline, control, and competence, not just hear it.

“Keep your guard up!” I called out, voice calm but carrying. “Remember timing is more important than power. Lou, show them how not to overcommit.”

Lou grinned and threw a wide, sloppy swing at one of the younger warriors, who barely dodged. “Noted, Alpha! I’ll try not to crush anyone today!”

I rolled my eyes at him using the Alpha title.

Kieran didn’t flinch, crouched low, adjusting the young warrior’s grip on his practice blade. “Control your center of gravity. Predict your opponent before you commit. Every movement counts.”

I stepped in, demonstrating a counter — smooth, grounded, efficient — moving with precision. “See that? Small shift in stance, slight adjustment in timing. You control the fight before it begins.”

Lou threw his hands up, muttering, “Predictable? Where’s the fun in that?”

I let a faint smile tug at my lips, ignoring the exaggerated groan of a man who thrived on brute force. Kieran, predictably, didn’t comment aloud, but I caught the small smirk at Lou’s antics.

Despite everything, my mind drifted to my mate. Still asleep inside the pack house, buried under blankets. She probably didnt even hear me get up.

When I found her, I remembered the instant certainty, the instinctive need to protect her fire. My beautiful strong Morgan.

I shook it off, returning attention to the wolves.

“Again,” I said, voice steady. “Round two. Focused strikes, controlled evasion. Lou, Kieran — circulate, correct form, set the pace. This isn’t a show. It’s life or death out there.”

Lou bounced across the formation like a spring. “Nothing like a bit of chaos to wake the senses.”

“Don’t get carried away,” I said evenly. “Precision first. Strength second. Timing overcomes both.”

Kieran moved silently among the warriors, adjusting grips, repositioning feet, a flick of his hands here, a whispered correction there. He was methodical, smooth, almost silent. His presence reminded everyone that control wasn’t optional — it was survival.

Lou, predictably, grew frustrated with the quiet. “You know, Kieran, you look all stoic and broody, but I know your secret past time"

Kieran froze. Eyes narrowed. "You...little..."

I allowed a faint grin.

Lou laughed, shaking his head, and I let the moment pass. Small humor, subtle, nothing to break focus, but enough to remind them they were alive, not just warriors.

We finished the final rounds of drills — strike, evade, counter, stance, repeat — sweat running, breaths even but loud in the crisp air. Lou’s enthusiasm carried him into every strike; Kieran’s control into every correction; I moved fluidly between them, correcting, demonstrating, leading by example.

When the final bell of the session came, I called them to attention, dismissing them from the morning.

Lou slapped a young recruit on the shoulder. “Good reflexes, kid. Don’t forget to smile while you survive!”

Kieran crouched next to another, whispering corrections, completely unreadable, yet the warrior’s posture straightened, tension easing, confidence building.

I allowed myself one last glance toward the pack house. Morgan would be up soon, & we would be in full swing managing the new issues rearing their ugly faces after last night.