The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 196

First Class-2

She stepped onto the mat and turned to face the class.

Dozens of eyes stared back at her. Some curious. Some pitying. Most hungry-eager to see her fall.

Iva’s mind raced.

*What kind of schedule is this?* She was supposed to be in the administration program. Paperwork. Logistics. Politics. Not combat. But Marik’s class was required for every student, regardless of their track. And the academy did not believe in coddling.

No matter the program, no matter the student-everyone trained. Everyone fought. Everyone bled.

And today, it seemed, everyone would watch her bleed.

Marik pointed to a student near the front of the crowd. A massive wolf, easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders like a barn door and arms as thick as Iva’s thighs. He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Garrett,” Marik said. “You’re up.”

Garrett’s grin widened. “With pleasure, Instructor.”

He stepped onto the mat, and the size difference was obscene. He towered over Iva, his shadow swallowing her completely. The other students exchanged looks-smirks, raised eyebrows, barely contained glee.

*Easy target,* their expressions said. *She won’t last thirty seconds.*

Iva’s heart hammered. Her palms were slick with sweat. But she dropped into a defensive stance-feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised.

The gamma training came back to her like a reflex.

Her original pack had not been kind to her, but they had trained her. The gamma-the pack’s combat master- her father had pushed her. Hardened her. Taught her that size didn’t matter if you knew where to strike.

ľ

She had hated him for it, at the time, and at the same she tried to make him proud.

Now, all that training might become useful.

Garrett lunged.

He was fast for his size-most wolves were-but he was also arrogant, underestimating her. He didn’t bother with technique. Didn’t bother with defense. He came at her with a simple, overpowering strike, expecting her to crumble.

Iva didn’t crumble.

She moved.

Her body twisted, her shoulder dropping, her feet pivoting. Garrett’s massive fist whistled past her ear,

13

First Class 2

Claim

hitting nothing but air. Before he could recover, Iva stepped inside his guard and drove her palm upward into his exposed chin.

His head snapped back

His eyes went wide with shock.

And then her leg swept his feet out from under him.

Garrett hit the mat with a thunderous crash that shook the floor. Dust puffed up around his massive body. He lay there, stunned, staring at the ceiling, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The training hall went silent.

No one laughed. No one whispered.

Every jaw in the room hung open.

Marik’s eyebrows had risen-just slightly. The only sign of his surprise.

Iva straightened her stance, her chest heaving, her heart pounding. She didn’t look at Garrett. She looked

at Marik.

“Does that count, sir?” she asked, her voice steady.

Marik was quiet for a long moment. His dark eyes studied her-really studied her, as if seeing her for the

first time.

“Again,” he said.

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