Saving the Queen |✓|

Chapter 29

•Alexis•

I watch as my pack along with Tony and Devon's packs start attacking the rogues. Arrows fly from the tree lines and I smirk, proud of my pack and mate for their choices in war. They're using smart and calculated attacks.

My thoughts are interrupted when Blake hands me off to two higher level​ rogues. "Where are you going?" He looks back at me, a sinister smile spread along his face. "To take care of that pesky mate of yours." I growl lowly at him in warning, feeling my wolf stir. "Then I'll finish off your pathetic pack and take you for myself."

I fight against the arms holding me, but without my wolf I can't overpower them. I shout after Blake's retreating figure, but he doesn't stop. I watch as Blake walks up behind Xander as he trys to help the younger wolves. "Xander!" He follows my voice, but it's too late. Blake grabs Xander, tossing him to the ground. They roll around, fighting for dominance.

My heart rate picks up as my pupils go out of focus, my wolf trying to break free. My gaze turns to Sam as he fights off three rogue wolves, my silver bow strapped to his back, keeping him from shifting.

I watch as wolves from my pack slowly fall to the floor, screaming. A frail old woman emerges from the woods. The witch. She's doing this to them. I keep fighting against the arms holding me. They can't win without help.

Think Alexis, you were trained for this. "What do you do when you don't have access to your wolf?" My grandfather's voice plays through my head. I close my eyes, thinking back to the year I spent with him.

"To win against your opponent you have to be smart. It's not always about strength." Grandfather always was a cruel man, but fighting was his specialty. After hours of fighting with my father he finally agreed to accept me as an heir, but there was a catch.

I had to spend a year living with him, to train. My father said no, but I stepped in, accepting his deal. For a year I endured punishments when I failed to impress and praise when I did something right. Some of my scars are from that year with him, but he's why I fight so well, why I can get information so easily from a prisoner.

I've tried​ doing things my way, without so much torture, but all I can ever think about when I'm with a prisoner or facing a new opponent is the pain of my failure. I can't fail or the pain will come back.

"Hit harder." He strikes me across my 9 year old face, I swept my tongue against the busted open lip, tasting the blood sprouting. I whip my head back to my grandfather, hitting him as hard as I can. He stumbles back, smiling. "Good."

He grabs me, holding my arms behind my back. I growl, my wolf wanting to rip his throat out. "Your wolf isn't aloud during this lesson." He says with power, making my wolf step back into the shadows of my mind. "Now, what do you do when you don't have access to your wolf?"

"You use your brains not your brawn. Look for a weakness." I reply, swinging my foot into his knee cap, making it buckle, him falling down on one knee. "Good girl." For once my grandfather smiles a real smile that reaches his eyes in admiration.

I zone back into the fight in front of me. I turn to the rogues holding me. One's young, strong, while the others older, but they both have weakness's. The one on the left even though he has great muscle mass, isn't a fighter. His fingers aren't calloused from training and he flinches when he sees a punch land. He doesn't belong here.