CHAPTER 2: ASHER
ASHER'S POV
I hate bandages.
I snarl as I rip another one off my side, wincing as it pulls at the scab, making me hiss through my teeth.
Damn thing still stings.
I shouldn't even be up, technically. Ezra- my dad- has told me to rest. Said I needed at least a week to recover after what happened on the border.
But sitting still? Not my thing. Especially not when the Pack's holding guard recruitment and I can already smell the chaos from the training field.
I roll my shoulders, testing the pull of the muscle. Bruised but functional.
"Perfect," I mutter, grabbing a plain black hoodie and yanking the hood up over my face. It's not exactly a disguise, but no one expects the Alpha's heir to show up looking like he rolled out of a Rogue camp. And since half the Pack still thinks I'm away on Blades of Everfrost duty, I can move around without all the bowing and awkward small talk.
And let's even forget the new recruits from recognizing me even if they saw my face.
I step outside, breathing in the cold air. Silver Moon territory is quieter these days, but not dead. There's always movement. Patrols. Training. Young wolves sparring near the woods. The new recruits are already lined up on the eastern field.
Great.
I pull my hood lower and head toward the group.
Most of them look nervous. Some cocky. All male. Typical.
They have been told an "instructor" will be overseeing the first round. They don't know it's me. Which is exactly how I want it. I can't deal with the whispering, the fake respect. I just want to see who's worth it. Who can actually fight?
The crowd parts a little when I walk onto the field. Good. At least they know I'm not one of them.
"Line up," I bark and watch as they make e.
I hear someone whisper, "Shit, that's him."
Yeah. That's right. I have made my mark in this place and that is all I want.
"You can call me Instructor if it makes you feel better."
A few guys glance at each other. Some look like they're gonna puke. Others straighten their backs like they suddenly forgot they were scared.
"This isn't school," I tell them. "You don't pass by standing tall or talking big. You pass by earning it. You want to wear a Silver Moon Guard badge, you fight for it. You bleed for it. You prove you're not a waste of space."
A few nods. One guy coughs.
"Today's first test is simple," I continue. "You fight me. One by one."
Someone actually laughs.
I glance at him. "You think I'm joking?"
"No, sir," he mumbles.
I smile, but it's not a nice one. "Good."
I take off my hoodie, revealing a training shirt underneath. My ribs still ache, but I ignore it. Pain sharpens me.
"Step up," I call.
The first guy charges in. He's fast, strong. Probably been training since he could walk. I take him down in six seconds flat. He hits the dirt hard and doesn't get up for a minute.
The second guy tries to be clever. Spins behind me. I flip him over my shoulder and pin him before he can blink.
One by one, they come. Some last ten seconds. A few surprise me with decent moves, but none of them push me. None of them make my wolf stir.
Until him.
The last one steps forward. Tall. Lean. Covered up to the neck. The hood over his head. Doesn't say a word.
I narrow my eyes.
Something's off.
My wolf shifts restlessly under my skin. That never happens. Not unless I'm being challenged. Or—
Wait.
No.
That can't be it.
I shake it off and nod toward him. "Name?"
He doesn't speak.
I raise a brow. "Silent treatment? That's bold."
Still nothing.
One of the guards says, "He gave the name Hunter during check-in."
Hunter.
Alright, then.
"Let's see what you've got, Hunter."
He steps into the ring. No fear. No hesitation. Just... calm. Steady.
Too steady.
The moment we face off, something snaps inside me. My wolf growls. Not a loud one—more like a warning. A recognition.
What the hell?
I circle him. He circles back. No twitch, no tell.
Then he moves.
Fast.
I barely block the strike to my ribs and feel the sting shoot up my side. Dammit. That was my injured spot.
Hunter doesn't stop. He comes again, faster this time. Clean footwork. Sharp instincts. He's not just fighting—he's reading me.
I duck and sweep his leg. He jumps, spins mid-air, and lands in a crouch.
Who the hell is this guy?
My wolf won't stop pacing. He's damn near howling now.
Mate.
I freeze.
No. No, no, no. That's impossible.
I drank the oath potion. I took the vow. I'm not supposed to have a Mate. That part of me is sealed. Gone.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" I snarl internally at my wolf. "I might not want to be mates but I am sure I like women. Get your brain in order!'
Unfortunately, Hunter sees my hesitation and lunges, catching me in the ribs again. I grunt and stumble back.
Shit.
I've never been this off during a fight. My wolf keeps yelling at me. Not in words—just instinct. Confusion. Want. Need.
Hunter backs up, breathing hard and I see the flicker of something in his eyes. Not cocky. Not even smug.
Guilt?
What the hell?
I charge this time, needing control, needing to know. We clash, and it's chaos. I land a blow to his shoulder. He punches back hard enough to make me taste blood.
The other recruits are silent now. Watching it like it's a damn movie.
Then suddenly, it ends.
Hunter drops low, sweeps my legs out, and I hit the ground.
Hard.
I blink up at the sky, stunned.
He steps back, hands at his sides, breathing steady.
I sit up slowly. My head's spinning. Not just from the fall. From him.
I don't know how I know, but I do.
This is not just some random guy.
This is a storm wrapped in skin. This is a threat. He is mine.
I don't say anything. I get up and walk off the field.
I need to figure out what the hell just happened.
And why my wolf won't shut up about someone who doesn't exist?