My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 413

Chapter 413: Chapter 413 ROGUE ATTITUDE

DANIEL’S POV

It was much easier to breathe when I pushed myself to the edge of exhaustion.

Not because it actually got easier, but because everything else went quiet.

The dreams didn’t disappear. They never did. They lingered at the edges of my mind. Fragments, too large to fully understand, pressed in whenever I slowed down enough to feel them.

So I didn’t slow down.

“Again.”

The boy across from me—Jonas—barely reset his stance before I moved. My foot pivoted, weight shifting as I closed the distance in a step.

He brought his arms up to block.

I adjusted mid-motion, redirected the strike just enough to catch his side rather than his guard, and pulled the impact at the last second so it didn’t land with full force.

He still grunted, stumbling back a step.

“Your center’s too high,” I said, lowering my hands. “You’re reacting instead of anticipating.”

Jonas rubbed his side, grimacing. “Easy for you to say.”

“It should be easy for you, too.”

That came out harsher than I meant.

I exhaled, releasing tension from my shoulders. “Again,” I said, softer.

We reset.

This time, he adjusted faster. Not perfect, but better.

I watched him closely. Not just his movements, but the pauses between them. The hesitation. The instinct rising, but not quite breaking through.

That was the part that mattered.

Not strength.

Not speed.

Understanding.

Because strength could be broken.

Speed could be matched.

But understanding was what kept you alive when everything else failed.

The thought slid too easily into something else.

Into memory.

Into the dream.

The way the moon had dimmed—not disappeared, but suppressed, like something crushing it from above.

The way the pack had faltered under that weight, movements slower, reactions dulled.

The way the enemies hadn’t.

My chest tightened.

“Daniel?”

I blinked.

Jonas was watching me, uncertain.

I hadn’t moved.

I stepped back, shaking off the lingering image. “Take five,” I said.

Relief flickered across his face as he nodded and retreated.

Around us, the training grounds continued in steady motion, the rhythm of sparring and instruction filling the space with controlled noise.

Normal.

Contained.

Nothing like the chaos from the dream.

I turned away, dragging a hand through my hair as I headed toward the water station.

‘You need to get stronger.’

The thought had been repeating since the dream.

Since the feeling of watching something terrible happen that I couldn’t stop.

I would be Alpha one day; I refused to feel that kind of helplessness ever again.

I grabbed my bottle and gulped down the cool water.

“You’re pushing yourself hard today.”

I glanced sideways.

Gavin stood nearby, arms crossed, watching a younger group with an assessing look.

“I need it,” I said.

“Your parents have a habit of pushing themselves too hard, too fast. They don’t know how to stop.”

I shrugged. “That’s why they’re both so powerful.”

He studied me a moment longer, gave a small nod, then turned back to the field muttering, “Stubborn Blackthorne’s.”

I exhaled. “Jonas, five mi—"

A shout cut through the air.

I stilled.

Another shout followed, louder this time, carrying something different from the usual training noise.

My head turned toward the far side of the grounds.

A crowd was forming.

I moved toward it instantly. The closer I got, the clearer the sounds became.

Impact. Shouts. Jeers.

Sounds that didn’t belong in controlled sparring.

By the time I reached the edge of the circle, the fight was already in full motion.

An older boy—Matt—swung.

A smaller figure I didn’t recognize ducked under it, fast, sharp, nothing like the controlled movements we were taught.

My eyes narrowed.

That wasn’t training.

That was survival.

The smaller one moved again, low and precise, sweeping Matt’s legs out from under him with a motion that was more instinct than technique.

Matt rose again and clipped the smaller one on the shoulder, and was rewarded with a ferocious little headbutt that made him stagger.

Just as the little one charged again, I stepped forward.

“Enough.”

The noise cut off abruptly, like someone had pressed pause on the moment.

Both fighters froze.

I moved into the circle, my gaze flicking between them.

Matt was breathing hard, anger flashing across his face.

The smaller one—

I paused.

Green eyes, sharp and burning, fury sitting too close to the surface like it could spill over at any second.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice sharper now.

Neither of them answered.

“Training ground rules are not optional,” I continued, letting the edge in my tone settle over the space. “We don’t fight like this here.”

“He started it—” Matt began.

“Stop.”

He shut his mouth immediately.

I turned to the smaller one. “And you,” I said, “you don’t belong in this circle if you can’t follow basic rules.”

His chin lifted in defiance, but he didn’t say anything.

“Both of you,” I said, “run the outer perimeter. Ten laps. Then report back for controlled sparring. If I see anything like this again, you’re both off the grounds for a week.”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

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