Helena was in one of Moonwalker pack's tents' showers after a gruelling sparring session with Shawn.
Those had been going on for days now. That is why she was kidnapped to show that even hybrids could be vulnerable.
Now she was washing off all the blood, sweat, and dirt from her beautiful body.
**
A few days earlier.
Stephen had Shawn by the collar with the latter's back against the wall. He wanted an explanation out of the kidnapper.
"Look, I only got Helena kidnapped because we need to assess future threat levels!" Shawn pleaded.
Stephen banged his back against the wall. "Meaning?"
Shawn raised his hands. "Meaning that the Moonwalker pack is getting weaker and we need our hybrid stronger than ever before."
Stephen let him go and turned his attention to Helena who was sitting on the metallic chair getting her bruises looked at by the pack's nurses.
"She'll be fine." One nurse said.
"Yes, she will heal quickly." The other nurse agreed. "This one's a fighter."
Stephen gave Shawn one last glance then went to his girlfriend.
**
Two days ago.
"Shouldn't we be doing this in public?" Helena asked Shawn.
Helena's gaze lingered on Shawn longer than she intended. The tight-fitting black clothes revealed a body sculpted from years of pack training—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles shifting beneath fabric with each movement.
A thin scar traced his jawline, one she'd somehow never noticed before despite all their interactions. Something unfamiliar stirred in her chest as she caught herself staring.
Shawn didn't notice, or at least didn't show it. "We usually do these fights outside to show who is stronger."
"So?"
"So you are definitely stronger than me but don't have the right practice."
"Well, you did attack me from behind last time."
How she wished he would take her from behind this time.
"Let's see how you handle a full-frontal assault."
She bit her lip. Even missionary sounded good then.
Helena lunged at Shawn with raw power that could shatter bone, her golden eyes flashing with primal intensity. He sidestepped with practiced grace, using her momentum against her. Three times she nearly pinned him with brute strength that made the ground beneath them tremble; three times his calculated movements slipped from her grasp like water.
Sweat plastered her dark hair to her forehead as frustration built in her chest. When she finally landed a crushing blow to his shoulder, he barely winced—instead countering with a precise strike that left her sprawling on the floor, panting and glaring up at his composed face.
They circled each other in the pack's training room, a stark contrast to the primitive canvas tents dotting the compound outside. Here, polished steel equipment gleamed under harsh LED lights, impact-absorbing mats covered the floor in deep crimson—the color of fresh blood—and mirrored walls reflected their every move, allowing no weakness to go unnoticed.
The air hung heavy with the metallic scent of sweat and the faint musk of wolf that no amount of industrial ventilation could fully eliminate.
**
Yesterday.
Round two was even more brutal when Helena faced Shawn again, her muscles still quivering from yesterday's defeat. This time, he didn't hold back—his claws partially extended, drawing thin crimson lines across her forearm that healed almost as quickly as they appeared.
The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth when she bit the inside of her cheek, determined not to cry out as his knee connected with her ribs. The sickening crack echoed through the training room, but Helena's golden eyes only burned brighter with determination as she circled her opponent, fangs bared in a feral smile.
Meanwhile, Marcus was having a meeting with Damien and Stephen.
"Is this totally necessary?" Stephen asked.
Marcus had an unusual smile on his face. "Yes, for the sake of the pack."
Damien patted his younger brother's shoulder. "Stephen, look on the bright side. She'll be even better in bed when this is done."
Marcus and Damien exchanged loud laughter while Stephen just sulked between them.
**
Present day.
Helena loathed coming to the Moonwalker camp now, especially because she got beaten senseless every time she stepped into the training room.
Steam curled around her body as water cascaded down her skin, bringing back the memory of Stephen's hands tracing these same paths, his lips against her neck in this very shower, their bodies pressed together under the spray as the world outside ceased to exist.
She felt a cock at her right hip. But she knew instinctively it wasn't Stephen's.
Next thing she knew, calloused hands slid around her waist from behind, leaving goosebumps in their wake before cupping her breasts with unexpected tenderness. The familiar scent of pine and musk—Shawn's scent—filled her nostrils as his hot breath caressed her ear. His lips, surprisingly soft against her wet skin, traced a deliberate path down her neck, each kiss lingering longer than the last, sending electric currents racing down her spine.
She knew she shouldn't but she wanted him more than anything in the world right there and then.
Their bodies collided with the force of their earlier combat, but this time transformed into something primal and urgent—a different kind of surrender altogether.