His Stray

Chapter 19

Present Day

Lucas stood with Landon, Hendrix, and Jeremiah outside the training hall as Alpha Marcus handed them each a slip of paper. The new schedules were printed neatly, days already filled with blocks of drills, endurance runs, patrol assignments, and sparring.

“This is shaping you all for the coming months,” Marcus said, his eyes narrowing on each of them. “If you’re going to be running this pack, I expect improvements. No excuses.”

Lucas nodded mutely, feeling the weight settle into his chest. Landon gave only a curt incline of his head, his jaw flexing. Jeremiah shifted, clearly uncomfortable, while Hendrix studied the paper with exaggerated focus.

Once Marcus moved off to bark more orders at other warriors, Hendrix smirked and let his gaze slide over to Landon. “You want me to read that for you, Watts? Some of these words are pretty big.”

Landon’s eyes snapped to him, cold and sharp. Before he could reply, Lucas cut in. “Knock it off, Hendrix.”

Hendrix barked out a laugh. “Easy, little brother. Just having some fun.”

“It’s not funny,” Lucas muttered.

Hendrix rolled his eyes and strolled off, still chuckling. Jeremiah followed, shooting Lucas an apologetic look.

Landon stared down at his schedule, his knuckles whitening.

Lucas blew out a slow breath. “You know he’s an i***t. Always running his mouth.”

“I don’t need you to defend me,” Landon bit out, his voice low.

Lucas bristled. “I wasn’t...”

“You were.” Landon crumpled the paper in his fist. “I don’t need you standing up for me.”

“I just...”

“Shut the f**k up, okay?” Landon turned abruptly and stalked across the field. Lucas followed, reluctant. The morning sun was barely up, the grass still damp underfoot. Warriors gathered in loose groups, stretching and warming up. Lucas tried to focus on his own breath, on loosening the tightness in his shoulders, but he couldn’t help watching Landon, who paced like a caged wolf.

His mother’s words from last night echoed in his head. I love Landon, but he has your father’s temper.

Landon finally faced the group. “Alright, I want to run through a counter move for when someone comes at you with a high lock. Lucas, come here.”

Lucas’s gut twisted. Landon’s tone was too smooth, his eyes too bright. Still, he stepped forward and squared up. “Alright.”

“Try to grab me.”

Lucas reached for Landon’s shoulders, but Landon caught his wrist, twisted hard, and shoved him off balance. Lucas stumbled, caught himself, then swung back in with more force.

Landon countered again, but this time Lucas didn’t pull the move. He shifted his weight and drove forward, slamming his shoulder into Landon’s ribs.

Air rushed out of Landon in a grunt. He recovered fast and shoved Lucas so hard he nearly fell. “What the hell was that?” Landon snapped.

“You wanted me to try,” Lucas shot back, breath heavy.

“That was reckless.”

“That was real,” Lucas retorted. “An attacker won’t stop after one move. You have to stay on guard.”

“Sorry,” Landon snarled, sarcasm thick. “I didn’t get that fancy academy training like you.”

“f**k you,” Lucas snapped. “You didn’t even want to show them a move. You just wanted to throw me around.”

A dark look flared in Landon’s eyes. He lunged, grabbed Lucas’s shirt, and they tumbled to the ground in a mess of fists and elbows. Warriors crowded around them, some laughing, some calling out, none stepping in.

Lucas shoved Landon off with a snarl and scrambled up. His lip was bleeding. Landon looked up from the ground and growled, teeth stained red.

For a split second, Lucas was a kid again. His brother was jumping between him and their father. Every bruise and dark memory slammed back into him, nights spent huddled together, listening for footsteps.

Then Landon stood, turned his back, and stalked off without a word.

The crowd slowly broke apart. Hendrix gave Lucas an amused look, one eyebrow raised.

Jeremiah moved closer and gripped his shoulder. “You alright?”

Lucas shrugged and spat blood into the grass. “Yeah. Fine.”

But he wasn’t.

**

Training didn’t get any easier. Lucas ran drills, sparred, and coached warriors through techniques. After the fight with Landon, everything felt raw. It seemed like every warrior wanted a piece of him, eager to prove themselves against the Alpha’s son who had gone off to the academy.

Gray Rock didn’t send many wolves to train beyond the pack. For some packs, it was a badge of pride, but their numbers had been dwindling. Only Hendrix, Lucas, and a handful of others had been accepted in the last few years. Not even Landon or Jeremiah had gone. It left some of the older warriors with chips on their shoulders, eager to test him.

By the time training ended, Lucas’s muscles ached, and his mood was dark. He walked toward the pack house, so wrapped in his own head he barely noticed the familiar scent of orange blossoms. When he looked up, he spotted Celia.

Her hair whipped around her face in the breeze. She was carrying two large bags, nearly blocking her vision. As he watched, she tripped, and the bags flew from her hands. Packages of disposable cups and plates scattered across the ground.

She let out a strangled cry and dropped to her knees to collect them. Lucas started toward her, but a shout from nearby stopped him.

“Careful, stray,” one of the warriors called. “Wouldn’t want you to break all our fancy dishware.”

Laughter erupted from his little group. Celia’s face went red as she tried to gather everything.

Lucas shot the warriors a cold glare. “Celia, stop.”

She paused, looking up at him in confusion.

He pointed at the warriors. “Pick this up and carry it into the kitchen for her.”

They blinked at him.

“Are you serious?” one scoffed.

Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Do I look like I’m joking? Pick it up. Take it inside. Do what I f*****g told you.”

Another warrior held up his hands. “Alright, alright.” He moved to help, and the others followed, collecting the supplies and trailing after Celia to the back door of the pack house. They set everything down on the kitchen counter where she pointed.

“Is that all?” one asked, glowering slightly.

“Part of being a pack means we help each other,” Lucas said, his voice rough. “We don’t make life harder for our own.”

The warrior grumbled something under his breath but nodded. Lucas waved them off, watching them slink out of the kitchen.

When he turned back, Celia wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the pile of disposables on the counter, her face tight.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“I was fine,” she snapped, still not looking at him. “I didn’t need your help.”

A humorless laugh escaped him. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turned and stormed into the hall, dragging a hand through his hair. The scream that built in his chest nearly broke through.