Chapter 49: Training

Chapter 49: Training Kaya I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to this. Even in his human form, Ray looks menacing. There’s something about his sheer presence—gruff, hulking, and intimidating. His body is built like a wall of muscle, and his fists alone are nearly the size of the boy’s entire head. The boy, on the other hand, can’t be older than twelve—maybe even eleven. He’s taller than I expected, but there’s a wiry, underdeveloped look about him that tells me he hasn’t shifted yet. His frame is lean, almost fragile, and clearly not ready to be trading blows with someone like Ray. And yet... he is. Despite the obvious disadvantage, the boy stands his ground like a true warrior. There are fresh scrapes across his cheek, a swelling bruise blooming over his brow, and yet he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t run. He refuses to yield. My heart clenches. "You’re not using your legs properly," Ray snaps at him, voice sharp with criticism. The boy only frowns in frustration and launches another wild, desperate punch. He’s breathing hard now, each exhale labored, but I can still see the fire burning in his eyes. He’s tired—clearly—but not broken. Not yet. Ray lets out a low chuckle, sidestepping the boy’s swing with effortless ease. His eyes narrow as he watches him, calculating. Then, in one swift, brutal motion, he drives his fist into the boy’s stomach. The boy crumples with a strangled sound, crashing to the ground like a ragdoll. I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth in shock. He writhes in the dirt, coughing violently, his face twisted in agony as he curls into himself. And above him stands Ray, arms crossed, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Get up," he mutters coldly, nudging the boy’s side with the toe of his boot. The boy doesn’t respond. He only groans louder, clutching his abdomen as another wave of pain crashes through him. "I said, get up!" Ray barks, his voice rising with frustration as he delivers a much harsher kick to the boy’s stomach. The boy cries out in pain, the sound sharp and gut-wrenching—and that’s all I can take. Without a second thought, I leap out from behind the shed, heat rushing to my face—equal parts anxiety and righteous fury burning in my chest. "Hey! Stop it!" I shout, my voice trembling slightly as I throw myself between them, arms instinctively outstretched to shield the boy. "Can’t you see he’s already down? What kind of fight is this supposed to be?" "Moon?" Ray’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly caught off guard by my sudden appearance. "What the hell are you doing out here?" "What the hell are you doing here?!" I snap back, my voice sharp, my gaze flickering between him and the boy, who’s now pushing himself up off the ground, wincing as he tries to sit upright. "What’s going on? Why are you fighting this child?" Ray blinks at me, stunned into a brief silence, then bursts into laughter. Loud, booming laughter that echoes across the quiet training grounds. He clutches his stomach, barely able to speak between chuckles. "Fighting him?" he repeats, incredulous. "This isn’t a fight, Moon! We’re training!" "Training?" I echo, momentarily thrown. But before I can say more, the boy stands and walks over to Ray’s side, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. He scowls at me, clearly unimpressed by my dramatic entrance, like I’ve just interrupted something important. Ray grins and throws a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders, giving him a firm pat on the back that almost knocks the kid forward. "Yeah," Ray says proudly, gesturing to the boy. "This tough little guy here is my son, Charlie." I blink, stunned. Of all the things I expected to hear tonight... that wasn’t one of them. "Your son?" I repeat, disbelief coloring my tone. "You have a son?" "Why does that surprise you so much?" Ray arches a brow at me, and I suddenly realize how ridiculous my reaction must have sounded. "Sorry," I murmur quickly, my attention now fixed entirely on the boy. And now that I’m really looking, the resemblance is uncanny. It’s not just similar features—Charlie is practically a miniature version of Ray, from the set of his jaw to the defiant spark in his eyes. Still, that doesn’t excuse what I just witnessed. "Even if it’s just training, don’t you think it’s wrong to hit your son like that?" "It makes me stronger," Charlie replies before his father can say anything, his voice gravelly for someone so young—low and steady, just like Ray’s. "You can’t live here if you’re not strong." "Shut it," Ray grunts, slapping his palm down on the top of Charlie’s head. I wince, instinctively flinching. I can almost feel the sting of that blow myself. "Don’t mind him," Ray adds with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "He’s still just a pup." I nod slowly, though I’m not sure what that’s supposed to justify. A dozen questions crowd my mind, but I don’t know where to begin. In the end, I settle on something safer. "Why are you training him so late at night?" Ray lets out a laugh, rough and amused, while Charlie’s face flushes with sudden embarrassment. "Because he’s got to study during the day," Ray explains, shaking his head. "And he’s not exactly a scholar—it takes him the whole damn day to get through his homework. And as you might’ve noticed, his physical progress ain’t breaking any records either." My gaze shifts to Charlie, and a quiet pang of understanding settles in the depths of my chest. I partially get it. When I was a child, studying was a luxury I was rarely allowed. Sure, I was taught how to read, write, and do basic math. Occasionally, they let me sneak away to the pack house library, where I could lose myself in books—if only for a little while. But that was the extent of it. Knowledge beyond that was considered unnecessary for someone like me. Then a different realization tugs at the edges of my mind, stirring a flicker of confusion in my chest. I haven’t met every single member of this pack, but from what I’ve seen, it’s safe to assume that there are no children living here. Not openly, anyway. So why is Charlie here? Why is he the only child among warriors? Before I can ask, a deep, commanding voice slices through the night like a blade. "What’s going on here?" The three of us instantly turn our heads toward the source, as if pulled by an invisible string. My body freezes on instinct. My heart begins to hammer wildly, each beat echoing in my ears, while my palms grow clammy and cold. "Alpha Magnus," Ray greets him with surprising calm, but I can barely breathe. It feels like my heart is about to explode.