Caspian's POV
The pain hit me the instant she went down.
Sharp. Hot. Brutal. Like someone had stabbed me in the ribs with a burning knife.
I gasped and grabbed the railing of the observation deck. Marcus grabbed my arm.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
No. I wasn't okay. I was dying.
Down on the training mat, Iris struggled to her feet. The werewolf girl grinned at her like a predator playing with prey.
"Again," Professor Frost commanded.
No, my wolf howled.
STOP THIS. PROTECT HER. SHE'S OURS!
"She's not ours," I whispered through gritted teeth. "I rejected her. Remember?"
And you DESTROYED us!
The werewolf girl moved. Too fast for Iris to see. Her fist connected with Iris's stomach.
"Two!" someone shouted.
Pain exploded in my stomach. The exact same spot. I doubled over, clutching the railing.
"Caspian!" Marcus looked alarmed. "What's happening?"
"The bond," I managed to say. "Every time she gets hurt, I feel it."
"But you rejected her. The bond is broken."
"Apparently not broken enough."
Three. Four. Five.
Each time Iris went down, pain tore through me. Back. Ribs. Shoulder. Face.
I tasted blood in my mouth even though I hadn't been hit.
"You should leave," Marcus said. "You don't have to watch this."
But I couldn't leave. Some twisted part of me needed to see this. Needed to watch her suffer because of what I'd done.
This was my fault. All of it.
"Eleven!"
My wolf was going insane. Clawing at my insides. Demanding I shift and run down there. Stop the fight. Take her away somewhere safe.
She's dying, he howled.
Our mate is dying and you're just WATCHING!
"She's not dying," I said out loud. "She's training."
But even as I said it, I wasn't sure. She looked so small down there. So breakable. Blood dripped from her lip. She could barely stand.
"Fifteen!"
Students were laughing. Mocking her. Calling her weak.
The same word I'd used to reject her.
Guilt twisted in my stomach worse than any physical pain.
"Seventeen!"
She went down hard. Didn't get up right away this time.
My chest felt like it was caving in. Not from shared pain. From something worse.
Fear.
"She's done," I heard myself say. "Professor Frost, this has gone far enough. She can't—"
Then she moved.
Slowly. Painfully. But she pushed herself up.
She
stood.
And looked straight at me.
"I'm not done," she said.
Something in my chest cracked. Not the mate bond. Something deeper.
I ran down the stairs before I knew what I was doing. Crossed the training floor. Stopped in front of her.
Up close, she looked even worse. Covered in bruises. Blood on her face. Barely able to stand.
But her eyes. God, her eyes were
burning.
"Stop," I said. "You proved your point. You're brave. Everyone can see that. But this is—"
"Don't." She cut me off. Her voice was steel wrapped in blood. "Don't you
dare tell me to stop."
"You're going to hurt yourself permanently," I tried again. My wolf was screaming at me to just grab her and carry her out of here.
"Good," she spat. Actual blood came out with the word. "Maybe then I'll finally be strong enough for you."
The words hit me like a punch.
She's doing this because of you, my wolf said quietly.
You did this to her.
I watched her stand. Watched her turn away from me. Watched her lift her fists again.
"Go back to your observation deck," she said. "And watch me refuse to quit."
"Iris—"
"Watch me prove you wrong. Watch me become everything you said was impossible. Watch me become
strong."
I went back to the observation deck. Because what else could I do?
She got knocked down again. Eighteenth time. But she stood back up.
And when the session finally ended, when they helped her bleeding and broken to the medical bay, she looked up at me.
And smiled.
That smile haunted me all day. All night.
I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her getting hit. Felt every impact in my own body.
"She won't come back tomorrow," Marcus said that night. "Nobody could take that beating and come back for more."
But I knew he was wrong.
She would come back. Because she was trying to prove something. To me. To everyone. To herself.
And I would have to watch.
The next morning, I showed up to training early. My teaching assistant duties. Professor Frost raised an eyebrow when he saw me.
"You look terrible," he said.
"Didn't sleep."
"The mate bond?"
I nodded. He knew. Of course he knew. Ancient werewolf warriors knew everything.
"She won't show up," I said. "Not after yesterday."
Professor Frost smiled. "Want to bet on that?"
Before I could answer, the training arena door opened.
Iris walked in.
She was covered in bruises. Dark purple and yellow across every visible inch of skin. She moved like it hurt to breathe.
But she walked in.
Students stared at her. The arena went quiet.
She stepped onto the mat. Faced the same werewolf girl from yesterday.
Lifted her fists.
"Again," she said.
My wolf went silent. Not because he was calm. Because he was in awe.
The fight started.
One. Two. Three.
Each knockdown hurt me just as badly as yesterday. But I didn't look away. I couldn't.
Because something was different.
She was moving better. Just barely. Just slightly. But
better.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
She dodged one punch. Actually dodged it. The werewolf girl looked surprised.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
"Sixteen!" someone shouted.
Then Professor Frost called time.
Sixteen.
Not seventeen.
Sixteen.
Iris lay on the mat, bleeding and broken again. But this time when they helped her up, she was smiling bigger.
Because she'd improved.
One less knockdown than yesterday.
I stood there watching her leave. And suddenly I understood.
She wasn't just surviving this. She wasn't just refusing to quit.
She was actually
training.
Actually learning. Actually getting
stronger.
"She's really going to do it," I whispered.
Marcus appeared next to me. "Do what?"
I couldn't take my eyes off her as she limped out of the arena. Covered in bruises. Bleeding. Broken.
But
smiling.
"She's going to prove me wrong," I said.
And for the first time since the rejection, my wolf spoke to me without rage.
She's going to become exactly what you said was impossible, he said quietly.
And when she does, you'll finally understand what you destroyed.
I watched her disappear through the door.
Seventeen knockdowns yesterday.
Sixteen today.
Tomorrow? Maybe fifteen.
And one day...
One day, she might not get knocked down at all.
The thought should have been impossible.
But watching her walk out of that arena with that bloody, broken, victorious smile?
I was starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—Iris Hale was about to make the impossible very, very real.
And I was going to have to watch every single second of it.