15. Marcus

I've been moving for about twenty minutes when I stop to reevaluate my position. The star on the map has me traveling toward the bottom corner of the page, but I can see the vague outline of an icon right at the tear line on the other side that I assume is our final location.

It's a fair distance away, but not at all impossible.

Footsteps and underbrush breaking in the distance to my right give me pause, and I move myself to a defensible position. There are at least thirteen other cadets out here looking for their partners, but I also know that this is our first test, and while they didn't explicitly say so, this won't be as straightforward as they explained.

My Alpha didn't give me much time to prepare for this training retreat, but he was very forthcoming with any information he could provide to help me get through this and make our pack look good in the process. He told me that every challenge had several purposes. One was usually obvious, while the others were more subtle.

Win a hand-to-hand combat session: it determines rankings while also showing them your fighting style, your thoughts under pressure, and what if any, mercy you're willing to give.

Win a team competition: shows your ability to lead/follow while also showing if you can compromise, if you are able to adapt, and what, if any, alliances you can create.

It"s mainly used to measure the competition from surrounding packs while deciding what alliances the larger packs want to make to increase their own power—a giant chess match to hold positions of influence.

Even as he told me about the actual purpose, I wanted a seat at that table. I wanted to be one of the decision-makers. I wanted to determine the direction our society would go. If this retreat was the beginning of that, count me in.

The individual approaching isn't trying to be quiet and moves at a slow jog. When their form appears between a few larger trunks, I can see they are one of the cadets, a guess based on their age and the oversized pack they carry.

I whistle, the sound coming out sharp and loud enough for the cadet to hear. He has dark black hair, an olive skin tone, and stands at about my height, 6'2. His face hardens as he spots me, and his deep-set almond eyes aren't friendly. He pulls his paper from his pocket, unfolding it as I approach.

"I'm Stone," I say as an introduction.

"Alvarez," he replies as we place the two halves together.

Not a match.

"Well, I guess I will see you there," I finish, continuing toward the icon on my map half. From the corner of my eye, I see his bag drop and his stance change before his arm swings out.

I drop to a crouch milliseconds before his fist would have connected, losing my pack as I roll out of his reach and stand back up, my wolf ready to take over. He snarls at the missed connection and lunges again, his eyes already shifted.

What the actual fuck?

"Not much of a team player, are you?" I sneer, dodging his second assault and getting a solid hit on his ribs. The audible crunch of the hit lets me know I've broken something, and my wolf salivates, wanting to join this fight.

I can't shift. I won't let this asshole ruin my chances.

Reaching around, I lock my arm beneath his jaw as he tries to recover from the previous move.

"You wanna explain why you're attacking me?" I growl out, squeezing my bicep to secure the hold.

He scrambles, swinging his body in an attempt to break free. Trying to get some air. After a few futile tries, he taps my arm in defeat. I loosen my grip enough to allow him to breathe again and wait for his answer.

"One less recruit means two less recruits. Plus, you were worth bonus points," he chokes out.

"Bonus points, huh? Well, if they believe a worthless attempt on the new guy would be enough to take me out, then they highly underestimated me. How about we use you to send them a message, shall we? I'm here to stay."

Without hesitation, I adjust my grip and twist, breaking his neck before he or his wolf can react. His body falls to the ground, and I step over it as I hear the slow clapping from my left, putting me back on alert.

I hadn't heard anyone approach.

He stands leaning against the tree casually. His face appears neutral, no malice or joy, just curiosity and a hint of humor. He, too, has dark hair and an olive complexion, but his eyes are a lighter brown. For a moment, I'm afraid the two are related.

"Can't say I blame you. Parker always was an asshole," he shrugs as he shoves himself off the trunk, adjusting the straps on his bag.

"Aren't you worried he's your partner?" I ask slowly, not lowering my guard.

"Nope, they told me I got the new kid. I'm going to assume that's you since I don't know you, and I spent the last three months studying every cadet coming here."

"They told you who you were matched with?" I ask, not believing his story.

"Well, not exactly. I overheard it; either way, it's nice to see you aren't at the bottom of a pit. That would have been a bitch to work through."

He knew about the pit?

My wolf stands ready as my suspicion rises.

Something isn't right here.

"I'm Stone, Marcus Stone, Vegas Pack," I offer, which causes his mask to slip as an eyebrow springs up for the briefest moment before he schools his expression.

"Where's Barton?" he asks, his tone giving away his confusion, and I note the tension he has placed in his shoulders.

"He had to wash his hair," I answer, slowly adding distance between us by moving toward Alvarez's bag. Without turning my back to my partner, who I note still hasn't introduced himself, I open the bag and look for anything useful.

The smirk returns as he waits, analyzing me. I find a few items I deem worthy of adding to my pack—his wallet with some cash, a leather pair of gloves, and a spare set of shoelaces.

Once I transfer everything to my belongings, I return my bag to my shoulders and reach out expectantly.

"Let me see your half."

"Not sure I should trust you with it, seeing as you've already proven you are willing to kill to get to the camp. Maybe we can both hold onto our halves and just see where we need to go," he offers, pulling his half out and laying it on a nearby tree stump.

I copy the act, ensuring I stay out of his reach, and lay my map down, lining up the edges to form a complete picture with an ‘X" right down the tear line.

It's a match. This guy is my partner.

After studying it for a moment, I back up and allow him to do the same. His brows pinch together. He tilts his head to the side, looks up to the tree line, and backs down several times before finally turning it upside down.

"The map's inverted. We have to head this way." He indicates the direction by pointing and turning enough to allow me to look at the paper.

I study the adjusted layout and see the landmark he is using. It's in the opposite direction I was going to recommend.

"If you're wrong, we will be miles in the wrong direction with no time to return."

He grabs his half before leveling his eyes on me.

"Well, then, I guess you'll have to trust me."