Page 61 of Hunting Their Omega

Isolde huffed, her cheeks red and brow damp with sweat. Black strands slipped free of her ponytail and stuck to her skin.

“Fifteen more seconds,” I shouted when I noticed her knees dropping.

The sun had just risen over the jagged peaks of the pines ringing the training field, but we were only thirty minutes into our warm-ups. Isolde wasn’t a fighter. Judging by her lack of balance, athleticism, and endurance, it would be quite some time before we could hone her abilities. But I didn’t need her to be a fighter. I just wanted to give her the skills to survive in an emergency.

My sweet little mate was determined, focusing on each movement as we worked through stretches and functional exercises.

“Break,” I called.

With an exaggerated sigh, she plopped onto the grass. I handed her a water bottle.

“Drink while you have the chance. You have two minutes until we start our run.”

She wiped her forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought we were done.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “We barely finished the warm-up. We have a two-mile run, and after that, training will begin.”

“Alaric,” she whined, “I thought I was supposed to be learning self-defense, not Enforcer training.”

I snorted. “You think I go this easy on my Enforcers? I was being nice by reducing your run to two miles. Keep complaining, and it’ll be five.”

Her mouth hung open. “But I’m your mate.”

“Not while we’re training. Right now, you’re a defenseless female I need to coach. It’s my responsibility to educate you, which I can’t do if you’re huffing and puffing after thirty minutes of stretching and light cardio.”

She groaned.

I jogged in place. “All right, time’s up. Line up with me and try to keep pace.”

With sluggish, heavy feet, she made her way to my side, and we began our run. Every quarter mile, I picked up my pace, forcing Isolde to push her body harder. I wanted to tire her out and deplete her energy before demanding more. Like it or not, physical prowess dictated survival in our world. It was the reason Omegas had been abused in the past, and I suspected the Council made it their mission to keep Omegas docile and moldable.

Unfortunately, that made them easy targets, but not Isolde—not anymore.

Every wolf, irrespective of gender or rank, needed a basic understanding of self-defense. They had to know how to use their intuition to their advantage, leverage their environment, and trust the instincts of their wolves.

Picturing a young and defenseless Isolde lit a fire within me. I was more determined than ever to ensure she could keep herself safe. I wouldn’t lose Isolde the same way I lost my mother and sisters. If someone had only taken the time to teach them, they might have survived when the old Alpha commanded his Enforcers to kill them.

The smirk on his face when we had arrived back at the pack would be seared in my mind until the day I died, and the smell of burning flesh and fur lingered in the air for weeks. My fists clenched at my sides.

Never again. That was our promise.

The sun reached its highest point as Isolde dragged herself to the trees where her self-defense training would occur. Her skin was red, and her breathing was harsh. Doubling over, she placed her hands on her knees. Good. She was exactly where I needed her to be. If she could push past her limits in training, her body wouldn’t fail during a crisis.

“All right, Isolde,” I began, ignoring her tired groan. During training, she needed a commander, not a mate. “Let’s start with evasion techniques. It’s crucial to defend yourself by avoiding harm whenever possible.”

I demonstrated how to sidestep an incoming attack with practiced movements, emphasizing the importance of footwork and balance. I repeated the sequences a few times, letting her get accustomed to the maneuver.

Isolde watched, her blue eyes shining with focus and determination. She mimicked my movements, albeit with hesitance, but fought through the initial awkwardness. As the session progressed, her maneuvers became smoother and faster. Her growing confidence and gradual improvement brought a stunning smile to her face.

“Good work, Isolde,” I said on her fifth set.

I switched directions, going for her body instead of her head. She struggled to readjust, and my fist brushed her arm. If I’d wanted to hurt her, I could have, and her eyes blew wide with the realization.

“Remember, the most important asset in any fight is your mind. Your opponent will have habits and tells, and it’s your job to turn them into leverage.”

“How do I leverage someone else’s punch?” she asked, panting.

“By having an idea of when and what they’ll throw. On to my next point: be aware of your surroundings. Close your eyes,” I ordered.

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