The Alpha's Fake Mate

Chapter One – The Warrior's Training

(Seraphina's POV)

The clash of metal against metal rang through the training grounds, loud and sharp. My muscles burned, sweat dripped down my back, but I didn't stop.

Neither did Ronan.

"Again," I ordered, stepping back and raising my sword.

He was panting, his bare chest heaving as he tightened his grip on his weapon. His golden eyes burned with frustration, but I didn't care. Tomorrow, he would fight for the title of Alpha. He had to be ready.

Without warning, I lunged at him, my blade slashing toward his ribs. He barely managed to parry, his stance shaky. Too slow. Too weak.

I kicked his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Dust rose around us as I pointed my sword at his throat.

"You're dead," I said coldly.

Ronan growled, shoving himself up. "You didn't give me a chance!"

"There are no chances in battle," I snapped. "No mercy. No second tries. If you fight like this tomorrow, you will die."

His jaw tightened, anger flashing across his face. But I wasn't done. I tossed my sword aside and crossed my arms.

"You think being Alpha is about strength? About winning a single fight? No. It's about surviving. It's about being ruthless enough to do whatever it takes."

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Are you sure you are ready for tomorrow, Ronan? Are you ready to do this? This is the only chance to become the alpha you have always dreamt of, you have to be a monster if you to be a monster if you have to?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

I narrowed my eyes. That hesitation... it would get him killed.

I sighed and turned away. "Get up. We're not done."

Ronan wiped the sweat from his forehead and picked up his sword. "You don't have to push me this hard, Sera."

I spun on him, my teeth bared. "Yes, I do."

He flinched at my tone, but I didn't care.

I was the strongest warrior in this pack, the one who trained every Alpha before him. If he wasn't ready, it would be my fault. And I refused to let my training go to waste. Not even when he's my mate.

I grabbed a dagger from my belt and tossed it at him. He caught it clumsily, barely wrapping his fingers around the hilt before I attacked.

This time, I didn't go easy.

I moved fast, forcing him to block, dodge, and counter. My strikes were brutal, my steps precise. I struck his ribs, his shoulder, his legs-showing him every weakness he had.

He gritted his teeth, fighting harder, but I could see the exhaustion in his movements. His breathing was ragged. His stance was breaking.

He was losing.

And that pissed me off.

With one swift movement, I slammed my knee into his stomach. He gasped, stumbling backward, and I swept his legs out from under him again.

Boom! His back hit the ground.

I placed my foot on his chest, pinning him down. "You're still too weak," I said, my voice like ice.

His eyes burned with anger. "Damn it, Sera!"

I crouched down, gripping his jaw. "Do you think your enemies will go easy on you? Do you think they'll care if you're tired?"

He growled, but I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his.

"I need you to win, Ronan," I whispered. "I need you to survive."

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

His breath fanned against my skin. Slowly, his body relaxed beneath mine.

And then, finally...

"I'll win," he murmured.

I studied his face, searching for doubt. There was none.

I stood up and held out my hand. He took it, and I pulled him to his feet.

But I wasn't done yet.

I tossed him another dagger. "Again."

This time, when I attacked, he was ready.

He dodged, countered, moved with purpose.

This was the Ronan I needed.

And yet, as the sun set behind us, I couldn't shake the feeling in my chest.