Marked Twice by the Alpha King novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Ava’s POV

The Silverpeak car rolled to a stop, and I stepped out, my boots crunching on the gravel path leading to Blackwood Manor. The silver wolf emblems embedded in the stonework seemed to watch me approach, like they knew something I didn’t.

My mark tingled as I approached the massive estate. Last time I’d been here, I’d practically thrown myself at Blake Morgan. Not my finest moment.

I tugged at my collar, trying to ignore the memory of his gentle rejection. The golden threads in my mark seemed to pulse with each step closer to his

territory.

The massive oak doors swung open before I could knock. Mr. Wilson stood there, silver hair perfectly combed, eyebrows slightly raised as he took me in.

“Miss Rivers.” No smile, just assessment. “Right on time.”

“Thanks for not making me wait outside,” I said, stepping past him into a foyer bigger than my entire house.

His lips twitched, almost amused. “The contract awaits your signature, but first, let me show you to your… battlefield.”

we walked through corridors lined with weapons old enough to have tasted blood in wars humans had forgotten. My fingers itched to touch them.

“Is the Alpha King here?” I asked, pretending my heart wasn’t doing gymnastics in my chest.

“Council meeting. He typically returns by nightfall.” Wilson paused at a massive portrait–Blake standing tall beside a seated blonde woman holding a baby. “You should know that Master Lucas has dispatched eight instructors already. One lasted exactly forty–seven minutes.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “So I need to hit forty–eight to win?”

Wilson didn’t smile, but something in his eyes lightened. “That would be a record.”

A crash echoed from somewhere ahead, followed by a woman’s voice raised in frustration.

“Ah, Wilson sighed. “It seems today’s dismissal is right on schedule.”

The training ground was impressive–a circular arena surrounded by ancient pines, equipped better than Warrior Academy’s facilities. In the center stood a small boy with dark hair twirling a training dagger between his fingers while a woman in expensive battle gear stuffed equipment into a bag.

“Impossible!” she spat when she saw us. “Completely impossible! He deliberately ruined every exercise!” She stormed past without looking at me. “Good luck. You ll need it.”

Lucas Morgan looked me up and down, unimpressed. His eyes were storm–gray like his father’s but flecked with gold that seemed to analyze my every move.

“Another one?” He sounded bored. “Where’d father dig you up from?”

“Warrior Academy.” I matched his stare. “I hear you’re collecting fired instructors like trophies.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting my directness.

“They sucked,” he said with a child’s bluntness. “Dad keeps sending me babysitters instead of real warriors.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed staff members lingering nearby. Apparently, “Watch the Alpha’s son terrorize another instructor was their favorite entertainment.

Lucas attempted a complex knife maneuver, his small face scrunching with concentration. He botched the final twist, frustration flashing across his features.

“Want to see it done right?” I asked.

His pride warred with curiosity before he extended the blade. “If you can.”

I took the knife, feeling its perfect balance, and flowed through the sequence that had given him trouble. My body moved from memory, dust swirling at my feet. I added a flourish at the end–a high–level variation that made the staff members whisper among themselves.

Lauras’s saw tightened as he tried to look unimpressed, but his widened eyes gave him away.

R

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“We’ve met.” I kept it vague, feeling Wilson’s attention sharpen. “He must have had reasons for picking me.”

“So, I rested my hand on my hip, “how are you going to test if I’m worth keeping around?”

‘Combat,” he said simply, moving to the center of the circle. “The others were too scared to fight me. Afraid of hurting the precious Alpha heir.”

Lucas’s mouth twitched, almost smiling. His stance was good–feet positioned correctly, weight balanced, guard up.

He lunged without warning, moving faster than any seven–year–old had a right to. I blocked easily but made it look like effort, assessing his skill level.

As we exchanged blows, he incorporated increasingly advanced techniques. This wasn’t just natural talent–someone had taught him well. I started paying closer attention when he nearly broke through my guard with a combination that adult warriors would struggle to execute.