Chapter 8 - Combat Training

Rae

Combat Training was the one class I had been dreading since the moment I saw it on my schedule.

Not because I was afraid of getting hurt. I had been hurt before. Bruises faded. Split lips healed. Scraped palms stopped stinging eventually.

What I dreaded was the reminder.

Every other class at Ravenwood Academy could at least pretend I belonged there if everyone tried hard enough. History was history. Strategy could be studied. Pack Law could be memorized, even if most of it had clearly never been written with someone like me in mind.

Combat was different. Combat belonged to wolves.

The training arena sat behind the main academy building, half indoors and half open to the forest. The structure was built from dark stone and reinforced wood, with wide doors that opened onto the outdoor training fields. Rows of weapons lined the walls: practice staffs, padded batons, wooden daggers, training blades dulled at the edges but still heavy enough to bruise. The floor was covered in thick mats marked with white boundary lines, and the air smelled faintly of leather, sweat, and pine from the open doors leading outside.

Everyone else seemed comfortable the moment they walked in.

I felt like I had stepped into someone else’s territory.

Chrissy stood beside me, tugging at the sleeves of her academy training shirt as she looked around the room with wide eyes.

“Well,” she whispered, “this is terrifying.”

I glanced at her. “You’re a wolf.”

“I’m an academic wolf. There’s a difference.”

Despite myself, a small smile pulled at my mouth.

At least until Quinn walked in with Grant.

She was practically attached to his arm, her dark hair perfectly pulled back in a high ponytail that somehow looked styled even for combat class. Her fitted training clothes looked new, expensive, and completely untouched by actual training. Grant stood beside her in black athletic gear, his expression calm and unreadable as he listened to something she was saying.

I looked away before I could hear it.

That was becoming a survival tactic.

The instructor, a broad-shouldered wolf named Mr. Calder, stepped into the center of the mats and clapped his hands once, the sound sharp enough to silence the room.

“Pair up,” he ordered. “We’ll start with basic defensive breaks and controlled takedown positions. No claws. No shifting. No teeth. If I see any of you treating this like a dominance fight, you’ll spend the next week cleaning mats.”

The wolves moved immediately.

It was almost impressive how quickly the room divided.

People found friends, packmates, ranking matches, familiar partners. Bodies shifted around me in practiced motion, forming neat pairs before I had even figured out where to stand. Chrissy was claimed instantly by another Omega girl from one of her morning classes, who gave me an apologetic glance before pulling her away.

I didn’t blame her.

Nobody else looked at me.

Or rather, they did.

They looked just long enough to make sure someone else would be the one to deal with me.

Within seconds, the entire class had paired off.

Except me.

Mr. Calder counted once, then again, his gaze landing on me with the same weary impatience adults used when they had already decided something was inconvenient.

“Rivers,” he said. “You can sit this one out.”

For a second, I thought I had misheard him.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the odd number.”

I glanced around the room, aware of every pair of eyes turning toward us. “This class is required.”

“It is.”

“If I sit out, I don’t get participation marks.”

Mr. Calder folded his arms. “That’s correct.”

“And if I don’t get participation marks, I fail.”

A few students snickered.

Mr. Calder’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. There’s no one left for you to practice with.”

I stared at him, heat crawling up the back of my neck. “Then assign me somewhere.”

“This course was designed for wolves, Rivers. You’re human. There’s no reason to put you in a drill where you’re likely to get yourself hurt just so we can pretend the playing field is equal.”

The words were not shouted.

That made them worse.

They were practical. Dismissive. Delivered like facts.

Quinn made a soft sound from across the room. “At least he’s being honest.”

Grant looked at her.

She stopped smiling, but only a little.

I kept my eyes on Mr. Calder.

“With all due respect,” I said, though I wasn’t feeling much of it, “I didn’t ask for the playing field to be equal. I asked for a grade.”

A few more students laughed, this time with a different edge.

Mr. Calder’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone.”

“I am.”

He looked even less pleased with that answer.

Before he could respond, Julien raised his hand from the far side of the mat.

“She can work with us.”

Mr. Calder turned toward him. “Bennett, you already have a partner.”

Julien stood beside Linc, both of them calm in a way that immediately made the rest of the room pay attention.

“There isn’t a rule against three.”

“This is a paired drill.”

“It’s a defensive break,” Julien said evenly. “It can be adjusted for three people.”

Mr. Calder stared at him. “Are you questioning how I run my class?”

“No,” Julien replied, polite enough to be dangerous. “I’m asking whether Ravenwood Academy intends to fail a student for being excluded from a required course.”

The room went quiet.

I felt my stomach tighten.

Mr. Calder’s expression hardened, but Julien didn’t look away. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. The strange thing about Julien was that he could sound respectful while making it absolutely clear he had found a weak point and intended to stand on it.

Linc said nothing.

Somehow that made it worse.

Mr. Calder looked from Julien to Linc, then finally back to me.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Rivers, you’re with Bennett and Adler. Try not to slow them down.”

I crossed the mat before my face could betray me.

Julien waited until I reached them before giving me a small nod. “Problem solved.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly.

“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t.”

Linc looked at Mr. Calder, then back at me. “He would have let you fail.”

“I noticed.”

Julien’s mouth curved slightly. “He noticed that I noticed.”

I glanced at him. “How did you make him give in so easily?”

Julien adjusted the wrap around one of his wrists, his expression almost bored. “He’s a Ravenwood instructor.”

“So?”

“I’m the future Beta of Ravenwood.”

I stared at him.

He looked up, forest-green eyes steady. “I don’t outrank him today, but he knows I’ll probably outrank him for the rest of his career.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

Then Linc added, completely serious, “Julien is polite. That makes people underestimate how inconvenient he can become.”

Julien looked pleased. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t praise.”

“I’m taking it as praise.”