Rejected by Her Mate Claimed by Four Alphas novel Chapter 14

Clara’s POV

I changed quickly, pulling on the black training clothes Darius had brought. The fabric was lightweight but sturdy, designed for movement and durability. Not the fancy training gear from Shadowcrest, but something more practical. More serious.

Four minutes. I had four minutes to get to the courtyard. I splashed cold water on my face, tied my hair back, and headed for the door. My body felt stiff, the newly healed scars pulling with each movement. It didn’t matter. I had asked for this training, and I wouldn’t show

weakness now.

Darius was already waiting in the courtyard when I arrived, his expression unreadable in the dim pre–dawn light.

“Three minutes and forty–two seconds,” he noted, glancing at a watch on his wrist. “Not bad.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an observation. Either way, I said nothing, simply stood waiting for instructions.

“First rule,” he said, beginning to circle me slowly. “When we train, you forget everything you learned in your old pack. Their methods made you weak. Mine will make you strong.”

“I wasn’t weak,” I said automatically, defending my past training.

His movement was so fast I barely saw it coming. In a flash, he had me pinned against the courtyard wall, his forearm pressed against my throat.

“Second rule,” he growled, his face inches from mine. “Don’t interrupt me.”

He released me just as quickly, stepping back as if nothing had happened. I rubbed my throat, my shock quickly turning to rage.

“Run,” he ordered, pointing to the perimeter of the courtyard. “Ten laps. Now.”

The courtyard was huge, at least a quarter–mile around. Ten laps meant two and a half miles. Not impossible, but a challenging start given my recent injuries.

I

I started running, setting a pace I thought I could maintain. By the third lap, sweat soaked my clothes. By the fifth, my lungs burned. The recently healed wounds on my side and chest throbbed with each step.

“Faster,” Darius called, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “That’s not even a jog.”

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I pushed myself harder, increasing my speed despite my body’s protests. Just as I completed the seventh lap, he stepped into my path.

“Not good enough,” he said. “Start over. Ten laps.”

“What?” I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. “I just did—”

His hand shot out, gripping my jaw. “What was rule number two?”

I glared at him but didn’t respond.

“Start. Over.”

I turned and began running again, biting back all the curses I wanted to hurl at him. By the fourth lap of this second set, my legs trembled. By the sixth, I wasn’t sure I could continue.

“Keep going,” Darius called, now running beside me effortlessly. “You wanted my training. This is just the warm–up.”

I gritted my teeth and kept running. When I finally finished the tenth lap, I doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath.

“Push–ups. Fifty,” he ordered without giving me a break. “Perfect form. If you drop, we start

over.”

I managed twenty–three before my arms gave out. I crashed to the ground, my chest heaving.

“Get up,” Darius ordered, his voice cold. “Start over.”

I pushed myself back up, arms shaking uncontrollably. This time I made it to seventeen before collapsing.

“Pathetic,” he said. “Your old Alpha made you soft. Start over.”

By the third attempt, I couldn’t even manage ten push–ups before my muscles failed. Darius stood over me, his face a mask of contempt.

“I thought you wanted to be strong,” he said. “I thought you wanted me to make you into something that couldn’t be broken. But look at you, already broken and we’ve barely begun.”

Rage flooded through me. I forced myself back into position, ignoring how my muscles screamed in protest.

“I. Am. Not. Broken,” I snarled, lowering myself for another push–up.

This time I managed thirty before collapsing. Not the fifty he demanded, but more than

before.

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CHAPTER 13

+25 Points

Next came squat jumps, mountain climbers, planks, and burpees. Each exercise pushed me beyond my limits. Each time I failed, Darius’s contempt grew more evident. Hours passed, the sun rising high in the sky as I forced my body to continue moving despite the pain.

By noon, sweat drenched my clothes, and my muscles trembled uncontrollably. I had vomited twice, the second time bringing up nothing but bile. Still, Darius showed no mercy.

“Now for the real training,” he said, taking a fighting stance. “Attack me.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I could barely stand, let alone fight.

“Attack me,” he repeated, his voice hardening. “Or are you too weak to even try?”

With a frustrated growl, I lunged forward, aiming a punch at his face. He sidestepped easily, grabbing my arm and using my momentum to send me sprawling to the ground.

“Slow. Sloppy. Predictable,” he commented as I struggled to my feet. “Again.”

For another brutal hour, I attacked and he countered, my body hitting the ground over and over. Each time, he pointed out my failures in that cold, calm voice. Each time, I dragged myself back to my feet, determined to land at least one blow.

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