Midnight Howling Book 1

Chapter 15: Lyra/Alexander

Lyra

Sweat dripped down Lyra's face as she clung to the rope, her muscles trembling with exhaustion. She pressed her forehead against the rough fibers, trying to summon the strength to pull herself up the ten-foot wall. The rope shredded her hands, each attempt more painful than the last.

Most of her group had already lapped her multiple times, but she refused to give up. Sierra passed by again, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud as she dropped from the rock wall behind Lyra, having easily conquered the obstacle. Unlike the rope, the rock wall had actually been Lyra's best chance—why couldn't that have been the final task? She thought, staring up at the seemingly endless wall before her.

Sierra wiped sweat from her forehead and walked over with a reassuring smile. "You okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing with concern. "You look like you could use a break."

Lyra gave a tired, half-hearted smile, leaning heavily against the rope for support. "I just need to get over this wall," she panted, her gaze locked on the top of it, which felt impossibly far away.

Sierra patted her on the back gently. "You've got this. One last thing and we're done."

With that, Sierra grabbed the rope beside Lyra and, with steady feet, began climbing. Lyra watched her for a moment, gathering her resolve before starting to pull herself up again.

Each tug on the rope felt like a battle, but she forced herself to focus. She'd made it about six feet up when the burning sensation in her palms became unbearable. Her hands were on fire. Just a little further... she told herself, ignoring the pain as best she could.

Glancing at her hand, she noticed a deep red stain smeared across the rope where her palm had been. Her hands were raw and bloody, but she didn't care. She had to keep going.

Suddenly, her grip slipped, and the rope slid through her hands. "Ah!" she yelped, her body falling toward the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact... but it never came.

Instead, she felt strong arms catch her, wrapping securely around her. Slowly, she cracked one eye open and looked up, expecting to see Liam, but it wasn't him.

Alex's hard gaze met hers. His arms were around her, holding her effortlessly. "You're bleeding," he said, his tone flat but concerned.

Lyra blinked, disoriented, and glanced down at her hands, which were resting in her lap, completely shredded. Blood oozed from the torn skin, staining her fingers. "I am," she murmured, dazed.

Without a word, Alex turned and started walking, still carrying her, his strides steady as if she weighed nothing. Lyra didn't protest—partly because she didn't have the strength, but also because, deep down, she didn't want him to let her go. Her body was exhausted, and she wasn't sure if she could stand, let alone walk.

As they neared the edge of the training field, Alex stopped and turned back to face the group. "Swap with blue," he called out. "Liam will finish the rest of this morning's training."

With that, he continued toward the hospital, his grip firm but gentle. The walk was quiet, filled only with the rhythmic sound of his boots on the dirt path. Lyra's exhaustion began to pull her into a haze, and before she knew it, her eyes fluttered shut. She let her head rest against Alex's chest, lulled by the warmth of his body. Just a quick nap... she thought.

The sound of a door banging against a wall jolted her awake. She groaned softly, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of Alex's arms, unwilling to leave the comforting embrace.

Alexander

Alex kicked the door open with his foot, frustration simmering in his chest. The sight of the small human—Lyra—in his arms, her blood staining his hands, filled him with a strange urgency. He knew she wouldn't die from the cuts on her palms, but the smell of her blood stirred something primal in him. She had fallen asleep on the way to the infirmary, which only added to his growing concern. Had he pushed her too far during training?