3 hours training

The middle of the day was a grueling marathon of mental gymnastics. Finance Class was a joke; I ended up correcting the professor's tax-haven models while Sol watched with a smirk that said he’d already moved his gold to my recommended accounts. Theater was even more surreal—the "Acting Method" was put into practice as I played the role of a modest student while the Siberian Tiger Alphas in the back row gave me subtle, terrified bows.

Then came the main event.

The training grounds were vast, a mixture of jagged rock, sand pits, and high-altitude obstacle courses. For the first time, the Imperial Tower and the Heir Tower were on the same field.

I saw Maxwell and Amelie near the back of the pack. Maxwell looked exhausted, his face pale, while Amelie was already complaining about the dust. They looked like pampered house pets compared to the predators around them.

Alpha Linus stood on a raised stone platform, looking like a monument of scarred granite.

"Listen up!" he roared, his voice vibrating through our very bones. "This is the Elite Combat Endurance trial. Three hours. No shifting. No water. No breaks. You will run, you will fight, and you will carry the weight of your neighbor. The last one standing will be granted a Governor’s Pass—the right to miss two classes a week without penalty."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the heirs. Two free classes meant more time for pack business or, for the lazier ones, more time at the campus bars.

"Move!" Linus bellowed.

The first hour took out the weak. The "legacy" heirs who had spent their lives being pampered by their packs began to drop, their lungs burning as Linus forced us to sprint through deep sand while carrying 100-pound logs.

By the second hour, only twenty remained. Maxwell was gone, having collapsed after the mountain-climb sprint. Amelie hadn't even made it past the thirty-minute mark.

By the third hour, it was down to four. Sol, Marcus, Pamela, and me.

The sun was a blistering eye in the sky. We were in the "Sparring Pit," tasked with a blind-combat drill where we had to dodge weighted pendulums while fighting each other. Marcus finally stumbled, his massive frame failing him as Pamela swept his legs out from under him. A second later, Pamela took a glancing blow from a pendulum that sent her into the sand. She didn't get up; she just stayed down, breathing heavily, a satisfied grin on her face.

That left Sol and me.

We stood in the center of the pit, drenched in sweat, our chests heaving in perfect sync. Sol’s bronze skin was glowing, his golden eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a physical heat. My violet eyes were shimmering, the power of the "second-chance" marks vibrating beneath my collar. We didn't even strike each other; we just moved, a dance of shadows and fire, neither of us willing to let the other see a moment of weakness.

"Time!" Linus shouted.

The bell rang, echoing across the silent training grounds. The other students were slumped in the dirt, staring up at us in disbelief. We were the only two still standing perfectly upright.

Sol wiped a streak of sweat from his forehead, a dark lock of copper hair falling over his eyes. "Well, Queen," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly thrill. "Looks like we’re both getting those free periods."

Linus hopped down from the platform, his heavy boots crunching the sand. He looked at us, then at the exhausted heirs on the sidelines.

"Aella Silver. Prince Sol," Linus said, his voice unusually quiet.

"Yes, Alpha?" I replied.

"The Governor's Pass," Linus stated, crossing his massive arms. "Does not apply to you two."

Sol’s brow furrowed. "What? Why? We were the last ones standing."

"Because," Linus growled, a rare, terrifying smirk touching his lips. "The two of you don't need 'free time.' You need more work. If you have enough energy to look at each other like that after three hours in my pit, then you have enough energy for the Midnight Tactical session. Both of you. Report to my office at 22:00."

I let out an annoyed huff, wiping sand from my cheek. "You’re a sadist, Linus."

"I'm a trainer," he countered. "And I don't give prizes to people who aren't even tired yet."

"You have to be kidding me, Linus," I snapped, stepping toward the massive Alpha. I could feel the eyes of the entire student body—Maxwell and Amelie included—burning into my back, desperate to hear why a "transfer" was talking back to a legend.

Before I could say another word, Pamela was there. She didn't say a thing; she just grabbed Linus by one massive bicep and me by the elbow, dragging us toward the shadow of the equipment sheds, well out of earshot of the lingering heirs.

"Lower your voice, Alpha," Pamela hissed at me once we were obscured by the stone wall. She turned her sharp gaze to Linus. "And you, stop baiting her in front of a crowd. We are here to observe the rot in the hierarchy, not announce to the world that she’s the one holding their debt."

I blew a stray hair out of my face, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "Linus, I don't have 'extra training' hours. I am running the Silver Pack’s entire infrastructure from a tablet. I have three mining reports to audit and the expansion in Chaos Valley needs my signature by midnight. My people are waiting. I'm hiding my status as a billionaire and an Alpha, but that doesn't mean my responsibilities stop existing."

Linus crossed his massive arms, his eyes softening just a fraction, though his resolve remained like granite. "The pack business can wait, Silver. The Eclipse won't. If you’re dead, those approvals won't mean much to the people counting on you for protection."

"I can do both," I countered, my eyes flashing a dangerous violet. "I’ve been doing both for years."

"Then you’ll do three things," Linus rumbled, his voice final. "The Pack, the school, and me. If you’re as much of a Queen as you claim, you’ll find the hours. Now get out of here."

I looked back. Sol was leaning against a training post, watching our "private" huddle with an expression that was entirely too knowing. He couldn't hear us, but he wasn't stupid. He saw the way the legendary Linus took my attitude without breaking my jaw.

"Keep laughing, Sol!" I called out as we walked back toward the group, slipping back into my "talented transfer" persona. "If I’m losing sleep for this, I’m making sure you’re the one I use as a punching bag tonight."

Sol didn't look intimidated. Instead, a slow, devastating smirk spread across his face as he pushed off the post and sauntered toward me. He stopped just inches away, his scent of cedar and heat hitting me like a physical wave.

"So," he murmured, his voice a smooth, low vibrate that made my wolf's ears perk up. "Since we're doing the 'midnight' thing... are we planning to do this in your room or mine, Queen?"

I felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the sun crawl up my neck. Behind us, I heard Maxwell let out a choked, indignant sound, but I didn't look back.

"The training floor, Sol," I gritted out, though my heart traitorously skipped a beat. "And I'm bringing gloves. You're going to need them."

Sol’s smirk only deepened as he fell into step beside me. "We'll see. I've always preferred a more... hands-on approach."