Chapter 15

Xander's POV

I slowly claw my way back to consciousness, awareness creeping in as my eyes drag open. My body feels stiff and unused, and my spine pops loudly when I stretch.

Goddess, I need to train today. Just one more day until we see Zahra.

Atlas is still asleep in my head, his soft snores a welcome reprieve from the huffy silences he has favoured lately. I drag myself into the shower, wincing when the steam and tiled walls stir memories of Max. They always do when I’m home.

Goddess, I miss him. I miss us.

I shove the thought away, ignore the ache in my chest—and lower—and scrub fast.

The morning drags. Everyone else seems wrapped in their happy little mated bubbles, and I’m glad for them, I am. But it makes my own misery harder to choke down. After breakfast, I head out for private training with Delta Greg. He’s been trying for years to push Atlas and me toward becoming one in the fight—two souls in sync—but Atlas hasn’t exactly been cooperative. Progress has been painfully slow.

When I arrive outside the training centre, I pause to take in the sessions already underway. The massive training field stretches almost seven acres, bordered by the dark line of trees that stand like sentinels. In the middle of the field, Travis has a group of pack adults—non-warriors by the look of them—grunting through medicine ball tosses and endurance runs.

My eyes shift to Greg, standing at the edge of the field with Jack at his side, both of them watching the group. Greg turns toward me, while Jack slips back through the side door of the building.

“Xander,” Greg greets, gripping my hand firmly. “How are you this morning?”

“Good, thanks. Yourself?”

He beams. “Not bad, I’m always good when Eliot’s home. Lauren and I both sleep easier when our pup’s back in the territory.”

I nod, smiling faintly at his fatherly pride. He claps me hard on the shoulder. “Right, well, I’ve got a different plan for you today. The Elite Twelve are here, and I want you in with them. We’ve got a Task Force instructor arriving in a few days to view our methods and see how far we push things. So, this morning’s a trial run. I’m running you all through a new circuit.” His grin turns wolfish and he winks. “Time to prove you’re the best in the kingdom.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I mutter.

Greg just laughs and smacks my shoulder again. “Come on. It’ll be good for our future Alpha to sweat with the rest of them.”

I follow him inside the training centre, already regretting I showed up.

The session is every bit as brutal as I feared. Greg drives us to the edge and then shoves us right past it. The so-called warm-up is a weighted sled pull around the full circumference of the field. Two kilometres of hell, with nearly four hundred kilos chained to the sled. Halfway through I think I’m going to vomit in front of everyone. My legs shake, lungs burning, shoulders screaming, but Greg just bellows at us to keep moving. By the time I stagger across the line my vision is swimming.

Then come the sprints, back and forth across the seven-acre field, followed by box jumps onto platforms so high they feel designed to break us. My thighs are on fire, and sweat drips into my eyes, blinding me.

Just when I think it can’t get worse, he sends us to the lake. Five laps around the island. The water is cold enough to bite, but at least it’s not the nut-freezing temperature it usually is. By the fourth lap my arms feel like lead, and by the fifth I can barely drag myself out of the shallows, gasping and shaking, but alive.

At least the sun is out, baking my skin as I stagger back across the grass. I’m already drying off by the time I reach the training centre. I decide against showering here. Instead, I trudge back toward the Alpha house, every muscle aching, my stomach hollow with hunger. Food and a beer. That’s all I want.

This time tomorrow, Zahra will be here. The thought cuts through the haze of exhaustion like fresh air. I can’t wait to see her, to check she’s alright, to see how much she’s grown. Seventeen now. She must have changed so much.

‘Hopefully not too much,’ Atlas rumbles suddenly, startling me. His voice has been absent for so long that hearing it now makes me stumble.

I’m about to answer when I push open the back door into the kitchen—and freeze. An acrid perfume stings my nose at the same moment a shrill voice trills, “Babe! There you are!”

My balls shrivel up inside me. For half a heartbeat I seriously consider turning around and walking right back out. Atlas immediately slams the door of his mind shut, retreating as if she’s poison.

And there she is. Helena. Sitting at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee, smiling at my mother like she belongs here. What the fuck is she doing in my house?

They’re alone in the kitchen, which means the others have probably bolted to avoid her. Smart bastards.

“Helena, what are you doing here?” My voice is flat, irritation simmering despite my effort to keep it out. Mum’s raised brows tell me I’m not hiding it well.

“Well, if you had answered any of my texts or calls for the last few days, you would know. I missed you so much, and since you’re not going to camp yet, I came to visit. To meet your pack.” She simpers.

Excellent.