The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 400

Chapter 400: Buzzed Serena Swung

SHADOWCLAW ARENA

Serena walked through the entrance with Elara two steps behind her.

Tiberon. Dexmon. Finnick.

Gone. All three.

The relief that moved through her chest was so profound it nearly buckled her knees, which were already unreliable given the wine and the shift and the crying and the general catastrophe of the last hour.

Captain Thane was standing in the center of the floor with Captain Calder, both men resetting equipment that had been relocated from the destroyed. Hale was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, present and accounted for, radiating the calm energy of a Beta who had been told to supervise and intended to supervise quietly.

Twelve Shadowclaw warriors were absent. The mages were absent. The audience that had made the first session feel like a tribunal had been replaced by four people and a rack of training blades, and the reduction in witnesses was doing more for Serena’s blood pressure than the wine.

Her eyes were red. She knew they were red. Every person in the arena knew they were red, and every person in the arena was choosing to pretend they were a normal color, which was the correct social decision and she was grateful for it.

The buzz was subtle. A warmth behind her sternum. A looseness in her shoulders that had nothing to do with relaxation and everything to do with two glasses of white wine. She was functional. She was upright. She was approximately seven percent less apologetic than usual, and the seven percent was doing heavy lifting.

Thane looked at her. His assessment was quick, professional, and carried none of the reverence or formality from the first session. What remained was two trainers, a Beta, a Beta Luna, and a princess whose eyes were red and whose pride was bruised and who had walked back into the arena anyway.

He picked up a training blade from the rack. Tossed it.

The throw was casual, a flat arc across ten feet of open air, and Serena caught it by the handle without thinking because her reflexes were faster than her self-doubt and the wine had muted the self-doubt by just enough to let the reflexes lead.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," Thane said. "Just blades."

She adjusted her grip. The blade was lighter than the ones in Drakenfell’s armory, shorter, designed for speed over power, and the weight distribution suited her frame in a way the heavier Drakenfell steel never had.

"Whenever you’re ready," Thane said, drawing his own blade.

Serena moved first.

The strike was fast, angular, aimed at Thane’s left side with a lateral step that carried her weight off-center. Thane blocked it easily, turned the parry into a counter, and Serena ducked under the return swing with the instinctive economy of a person who had learned to avoid incoming objects long before she learned to hold a sword.

Thane’s brows lifted. He reset. Came at her again.

She blocked the overhead strike, absorbed the impact through her forearms, and sidestepped the follow-up with a pivot that put her behind his guard for half a second. She didn’t capitalize on the opening because she didn’t recognize it as one, but the positioning was there, and Thane saw it.

"There," Hale called from the wall. "You had his flank. When you pivot past the guard, the opening is the ribs. Commit to it."

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