My fingers tighten around the phone 47

Aria’s POV
Word of the upcoming Alliance Combat Tournament had spread through the wolf community like wildfire. As one of the
most prestigious events in the wolf world, it would bring together fighters from every major pack in the region. The buzz
of excitement filled the training facility’s halls, but for me, it meant countless hours of additional work.The stack of
tournament preparations on my desk seemed to grow taller by the hour. Entry forms from participating packs, security
protocols, match schedules – the upcoming inter-pack combat tournament demanded meticulous attention to every
detail. As head trainer, I carried the weight of the training camp’s reputation on my shoulders. But more than that, this
tournament represented my chance to silence the whispers that had followed me since my return – to prove that even without wolf powers, I remained a warrior worthy of respect.
“Instructor Reynolds?” A young she-wolf appeared in my doorway, her expression carefully neutral. “The Northern Pack
just submitted fifteen additional entry forms that need immediate processing.” She placed another stack of papers on my
already overflowing desk. “Oh, and the equipment inventory still needs verification before tomorrow’s training session.”
I caught the slight smirk playing at her lips as she turned away. It wasn’t the first “urgent” task that had mysteriously
landed on my plate this week. The other she-wolves had developed quite a talent for finding ways to drain my time and
energy, especially as the tournament drew closer.
My phone buzzed – a message from Marcus offering to take Lucas this Saturday. My father had been trying so hard
lately, showering Lucas with the grandfatherly attention he’d been denied for six years. But every visit to Silver Moon
territory came with its own emotional toll. The familiar paths, the pack house where I’d grown up, the training grounds
where I’d first learned to fight – each held shadows of the past I couldn’t quite shake.
Still, Lucas needed time with his grandfather, and I needed to focus on the tournament preparations. Swallowing my
unease, I typed out a quick response accepting Marcus’s offer.
“Here’s the revised combat bracket structure,” another she-wolf announced, dropping yet another folder onto my desk.
“The alpha council requested immediate review.” Her tone carried the same barely concealed satisfaction I’d grown used
to hearing. They all seemed to take particular pleasure in watching me drowning in administrative tasks.
I squared my shoulders, reaching for the new folder. Let them try to bury me in paperwork. I’d survived far worse than
their petty attempts at sabotage. The tournament would be my proving ground – a chance to demonstrate that true
strength wasn’t measured by wolf powers alone, but by skill, determination, and the unwavering will to succeed.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the training facility’s high windows, casting long shadows across the practice
mats. My muscles burned pleasantly as I demonstrated a complex defensive maneuver to the younger wolves gathered
around me.
“Watch the footwork here,” I instructed, moving through the sequence with deliberate precision. “Against an opponent,
your timing has to be perfect.” Sweat trickled down my temple as I completed the demonstration, my breath steady
despite the exertion.
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A familiar presence entered the training hall. Even without my wolf abilities, I could feel Ethan’s energy fill the space. My
skin prickled with awareness as his forest-green eyes tracked my movements. These visits had become more frequent
lately – him appearing during my training sessions, watching with an intensity that made it difficult to maintain my
professional facade.
“Again,” I called out, forcing myself to focus on the students rather than the alpha heir’s burning gaze. “This time with
partners. Remember, in real combat, your opponent won’t wait for you to get the stance perfect.”
As the pairs spread out to practice, I moved among them, correcting forms and offering guidance. But I remained acutely
aware of Ethan’s presence, his eyes following my every move. The memory of our encounter at Mountain View Restaurant
flashed unbidden through my mind – his hands gripping my hips, his mouth claiming mine with desperate hunger. Heat
crept up my neck, and I silently cursed my body’s betrayal.
“Your left guard is dropping,” I told a young she-wolf, demonstrating the proper position. “An experienced fighter will
exploit that opening immediately.” The student nodded, adjusting her stance, but her attention kept drifting to where
Ethan stood.
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“Focus,” I snapped, perhaps more sharply than necessary. “In real combat, distractions get you killed.”
The irony of my words wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, preaching about focus while hyper-aware of every shift in Ethan’s
position, every subtle change in his expression. The air between us seemed to crackle with unspoken tension, making it
increasingly difficult to maintain my professional demeanor.
A commotion near the entrance drew my attention. Emma stood in the doorway, her perfectly styled hair and designer workout gear making my own sweat-dampened training clothes feel suddenly inadequate. Her eyes narrowed as she
took in the scene, lingering on the way Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on me.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” she called out, her sweet tone carrying an edge of steel. “I just came to remind Ethan about our
dinner plans tonight.” She moved to his side, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. The gesture was clearly meant to stake her claim.
“Take five,” I told the class, needing a moment to compose myself. As the students dispersed, I felt rather than saw Ethan
start to move in my direction. Without looking at him, I grabbed my water bottle and headed for