Chapter 3: The Watchful Wolf

Alex’s POV

The training courtyard never lied.

Within minutes, it stripped away masks of arrogance, of polished manners, of names heavy with history. The sun bore down, dust clung to sweat-slicked skin, and wood cracked against wood until every student learned the truth: bloodlines meant nothing when you couldn’t keep your footing.

I stood at the center of it all, my shadow long against the dirt, and watched.

Some fought well enough—footwork sharp, strikes clean, wolves who’d clearly been raised on discipline. Others swung wildly, burning themselves out within minutes. I marked each failure, each hidden strength, filing it away. That was what an Alpha did.

But my eyes kept finding her.

Lyra Darius.

The name itself was bile in my throat. I had built my life on the memory of her father’s crimes. I had dreamed of this moment, of watching her stumble, of tearing down the pride she wore like a crown. She was supposed to be my opening move in a game of vengeance I had spent years perfecting.

But the girl standing before me wasn’t the Lyra I had pictured.

Her hands trembled on the hilt of her blade. Her shoulders were too stiff, as though bracing against blows that hadn’t come yet. And when her eyes lifted, just briefly, I caught it—fear. Not arrogance. Not defiance. Pure, sharp-edged fear.

I knew that look too well. I had worn it once.

The courtyard seemed to fade as memory dragged me backward.

Smoke. Choking, black, curling into the night. The sound of shattering wood, the coppery stench of blood coating the floorboards. My mother’s scream, raw and desperate.

“Run, Alex. Run.”

But I hadn’t. I’d frozen in the doorway, a boy paralyzed by terror, staring at the man who stood over my father’s body.

Alpha Darius.

His blade was slick, his eyes cold. There had been no hesitation, no mercy. He had slaughtered my parents like they were nothing.

That night burned itself into me. Every breath I took since had carried the weight of their loss. Every scar I earned in training was carved in their memory. And every plan I made had circled back to one name—Darius.

And now, here she was. His daughter. His heir.

Except… she did not fight like him. She did not even move like an Alpha.

“Pair up,” I ordered, snapping myself back into the present.

The students scrambled, wood clattering as they chose partners. She was paired with Rowan, the Beta’s boy, a swaggering brat whose smirk stretched ear to ear.

He shoved a wooden sword at her. “Don’t cry when I knock you flat, princess,” he said loudly, earning a ripple of laughter.

Her fingers closed around the blade. Wrong grip. Too tight. She tried to adjust, but it was clumsy, uncertain.

“Begin,” I commanded.

Rowan lunged, quick and eager. She gasped, stumbling back. Her blade lifted too late, the crack echoing sharp as it met his. She nearly lost her footing.

“Is this the famous Lyra Darius?” Rowan mocked. “I’ve fought pups with more skill.”

“She’s pathetic,” someone whispered nearby.

“Can’t even lift a blade properly.”

“Thought she was supposed to be vicious.”

I clenched my jaw.

Rowan pressed harder, each strike heavier, crueler. She staggered back again and again, her hair falling loose, breath ragged. Her arms trembled under the strain, but she didn’t drop the sword. Not once.

It was stubbornness, not skill, keeping her upright. The same kind of stubbornness I’d seen in soldiers bleeding out on battlefields. The same defiance I had seen in my mother’s eyes before she fell.

“Your form is pathetic,” I snapped, silencing the laughter. My gaze pinned her. “A disgrace to your bloodline.”

Her eyes flicked to me, wide and guilty, before darting down again. “I…I was distracted,” she stammered.

“Distracted?” My voice cracked across the yard. “A distracted wolf doesn’t live to explain why.”

Rowan smirked. “Want me to finish her, sir?”

“Again,” I ordered.

He lunged once more, harder this time, blades crashing again and again. She staggered but held on, gritting her teeth. There was no elegance in her defense, no skill—but gods, there was will.

And it unsettled me more than weakness should have.

“Enough,” I barked, the word cutting sharp. Rowan lowered his sword, muttering curses under his breath. The others chuckled cruelly, their voices low and poisonous.

“Lesson one,” I told them, my voice carrying. “Strength isn’t your name. It isn’t your father’s title. If you cannot hold it yourself, someone will take it and they will not give it back.”

I dismissed them, but my eyes followed her as the courtyard emptied. Her hands still shook. Yet her chin lifted, stubborn even in defeat.

She tried to slip away with the last group.

“Stay.”

The single word rooted her to the ground. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned back.

The silence was heavy now, the yard empty but for us. I closed the distance, unhurried, until she was forced to tilt her head back to see me. She didn’t. Her eyes fixed on the dirt, shoulders rigid.

“Do you know what I saw today?” I asked quietly.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

“I saw fear,” I said. “And weakness. Not what I expected from Alpha Darius’s daughter.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “It won’t happen again,” she whispered. “I was… caught off guard.”

“Caught off guard?” I stepped closer, circling her slowly. She flinched as I moved behind her. “Or untrained?”

Her breath quickened. “I’ve trained plenty.”

Lie.

“Strange,” I murmured, coming to stand in front of her again. “The Lyra Darius I’ve heard about is arrogant. Defiant. She picks fights she cannot win. You…” My eyes narrowed. “…you fight like someone terrified of being seen.”

Her head snapped up, panic flashing in her gaze. “You don’t know me.”

I leaned down, close enough that her shallow breaths brushed my chest. “Oh, I know you,” I murmured, voice low. “I’ve been waiting for you, Lyra. For years.”

Her face drained of color. She froze, trapped in my stare.

For years I had built this moment in my mind. Breaking her, piece by piece, until her father felt every wound. But now, standing this close, something in her did not match the girl I had vowed to destroy.

This wasn’t arrogance. This wasn’t cruelty.

This was something else.

And it was dangerous.

I stepped back at last, forcing steel into my tone. “See that you don’t embarrass yourself again. Next time, I won’t stop the fight.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, voice tight.

I let her go, but my eyes followed her across the courtyard until she disappeared through the archway.

The plan I had carried for years suddenly felt less certain.

If she truly was Lyra Darius, then she was not the wolf I had expected

.

And if she wasn’t… then someone was playing a dangerous game.

Either way, she belonged to me now.

Whether she wanted to or not.