Chapter 119

Noah & Hannah

Noah’s POV

Noah was tired of Drake’s obvious posturing. He was tired of the bastard constantly undermining him, trying to make him appear like an asshole. He was tired of Drake manipulating Hannah into thinking that he was anything more than a simpering playboy.

“Guys, please don’t do this.” Hannah stood, dusting herself off, and placed her hands on her hips. “This is ridiculous. I’m here to train, not to watch you two have a pissing contest.”

But Noah didn’t care. He whipped his head toward Hannah, gritting his teeth. “Hannah, go sit on the bench,” he commanded.

Drake nodded before Hannah could refuse. “It’ll be easier this way. You can choose whoever wins as your sparring partner.”

Hannah paused for a moment, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them, before she finally threw her hands up in exasperation and let out a huff. “Whatever,” she grumbled, brushing past them—making a point to nudge Noah roughly with her elbow as she passed.

A soft growl rumbled in the back of Noah’s throat at Hannah’s touch, and he felt his wolf surge inside of him.

Maybe it was stupid, but his wolf wanted to impress her.

And so did Noah.

…

Hannah’s POV

I stomped over to the edge of the ring and ducked under the ropes, shooting Drake and Noah each a withering glance as I did. Not that they noticed, though; they were already preparing to fight.

Goddess, what a drag, I thought to myself as I hopped down to the floor and made my way over to the bench. I was just here to train so I could prepare to be a single mom and a female Alpha; but of course they had to get in the way of that.

They were like a couple of teenage boys, having to posture to show who was ‘better’.

Yeah, well, now I wasn’t particularly inclined to pick either one of them.

As the two of them began warming up for their fight, I shook my head and slipped out my phone. A text from Viona in the group chat was waiting for me: “How’s your training session going?”

“Horribly,” I typed back with an eye-rolling emoji. “They’re about to fight each other.”

Amber: “What? Why?”

Emma: “I can guess why.”

I rolled my eyes, just like the emoji. “Because they’re men,” I replied. “Plain and simple.” My friends dissolved into laughing emojis and jibes directed at the Alpha male nonsense.

Up ahead, I saw that Noah and Drake were now in position and ready to fight. “You know you don’t have to do this,” I called out. “I might not pick either of you at this rate.”

But of course, neither of them was listening. Only Noah replied, “Hannah, start the timer.”

Drake nodded. “I bet I can have you tapping out in three minutes.”

Noah grit his teeth. “Very well. Hannah, set it for three minutes.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I opened my clock app and started the timer, not that I cared; my eyes were already flickering to the door, already contemplating whether I should just slip out while they were distracted and let them duke it out. I could pay an actual trainer instead, someone who wouldn’t get caught up in this nonsense…

But as soon as I called out, “Go!” and the fight began, I realized that I couldn’t leave them here because they were out for blood.

Like two loaded springs, Noah and Drake leaped at each other in a flurry of fists and fangs. They were a blur—each tapping into the strength of their wolves until I could hardly even make out which limb belonged to who.

Drake aimed an uppercut toward Noah’s stomach right off the bat, but Noah deftly dodged, whirling on his toes and coming back to land a blow on Drake’s shoulder. Drake staggered, grunting, and lunged forward on one leg. His right arm came around in a right hook, catching Noah in the side.

I gasped, instinctively leaning forward and gripping the edge of the bench as Noah groaned and veered a roundhouse kick toward Drake. With a swift swipe, he caught Drake right in the side of the head.

“Drake!” I cried out, leaping to my feet. The fight had only just begun, and yet it seemed as though they were out for blood—far more than a simple competition.

But Drake didn’t waver for more than a moment. Spitting a wad of blood out onto the rubber mat, he slid forward and threw his arms around Noah’s back leg, throwing him off balance. Noah’s arms wheeled, his head tilting back in surprise as he was slammed to the floor.

And then Drake was on top of him, raining punches down on him. Noah rolled and dodged each one, narrowly avoiding getting hit squarely in the face. His legs came up and looped around Drake’s shoulders, throwing him back—and then Noah was on top.

And unlike Drake, Noah didn’t miss. He landed a solid punch squarely in Drake’s nose, sending blood gushing instantly.

“Noah! Stop!” I shrieked. I lunged toward the ring, gripping the ropes, but found myself unable to enter—because Drake had somehow gotten the upper hand again, and now they were rolling around on the floor, Drake’s arms around Noah’s throat and Noah’s legs kicking.

“Yield!” Drake groaned, spitting out more blood. “Yield, dammit!”

Noah choked and sputtered. “Never.”

“Noah!” I shrieked. “Just yield, for Goddess’ sake!”

Noah, of course, didn’t pay me any mind. Neither of them did, no matter how loudly I shouted at them to stop. They just kept rolling around on the floor, throwing kicks and punches and snarls, fangs dropped and blood dripping.

I had to do something, and quickly—especially when I saw Noah on top of Drake again, throwing feral punches at him. Some of them hit, resulting in sickening cracks and sputters, and some of them missed, turning Noah’s knuckles bloody against the rubber mats.

Noah was going to kill Drake if Drake didn’t get out from under him. And if Drake got out, then he might very well turn around and kill Noah.

Whirling, I caught sight of a sink and a mop bucket in the corner. I grit my teeth and sprinted over, thrusting the bucket under the tap and turning it on. The sound of the rushing water barely covered the sound of the fleshy hits in the background. Tears pricked my eyes, my heart pounding as I urged the bucket to fill faster.

Once it was about halfway full, I grabbed it and whirled back around, nearly dropping it as I saw the scene in front of me—Drake had Noah on his feet again, up against the ropes, with his shirt clutched in his fist. He was pummeling him in the gut, each punch causing Noah to crumple even more—but never fall.

With one last shriek, I full-on sprinted at the ring. I held the bucket up over my shoulder, and…

I forced all of the water right on top of their heads.

Only then, in the wake of a sudden rush of ice cold water, did their punches slow. Only then did Drake release Noah’s shirt, stumbling back and falling to the floor. Only then did Noah wipe the watery blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and lean against the ropes, panting heavily.

I threw the bucket down with a clatter.

“You animals!” I shrieked, stamping my foot. “This was supposed to be my training day! And you had to go and make it about you!”

Neither of them responded, although I didn’t think they were even capable at that point. Not that it mattered, anyway. I had to get out of here, get some fresh air, get away from the sickly sweet scent of blood and sweat and saliva.

Before they could see me cry or vomit or scream or maybe all three, I whirled on my heel and burst out of the training center.