Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother novel Chapter 168

168 Chapter 168

168 Chapter 168

Seraphina’s POV T

The gym smelled like sweat, blood, and something that might have been fear.

I stood in the doorway at 5:55 AM, my stomach churning with equal parts terror and desperate determination. This was it. My first day of

training for underground fighting.

The space was nothing like the pack training facility. No clean mats, no organized equipment, no cheerful teammates encouraging each

other. Just concrete floors stained with God knows what, heavy bags hanging from rusted chains, and a boxing ring that looked like it

had seen actual deaths.

“You’re early,” Rico’s voice came from behind me. “Good. Shows discipline.”

I turned to face him. He looked different in workout clothes–leaner, harder, more dangerous. Like he could actually teach someone how

to hurt people.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Coming.” He checked his watch. “You’ll meet the team at six. Fair warning–they’re not gonna be happy about you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a woman. And because you’re taking up space they think belongs to them.” His expression was matter–of–fact. “They’re

gonna test you. Push you. Try to make you quit.”

My hands clenched into fists. “I won’t quit.”

“We’ll see.”

At exactly six AM, they started arriving.

Men. All men. Big, brutal–looking men with cauliflower ears and scarred knuckles and eyes that had seen too much violence. They looked

at me like I was a joke. An insult.

“The fuck is this?” The first one through the door was massive–easily six–foot–four, built like a tank. His nose had been broken so many

times it barely looked human anymore. “We running a daycare now, Rico?”

“Flint, meet Sera. Sera, meet Flint.” Rico’s voice was calm. “She’s training with us.”

Flint’s laugh was harsh and ugly. “Training? You serious? She looks like a stiff wind would break her.”

More men filed in. Eight total, not counting Rico. All of them staring at me with varying degrees of amusement and contempt.

“Maybe she’s lost,” another one said. His accent was thick, Eastern European maybe. Scars crisscrossed his shaved head like a road map.

“Yoga studio is three blocks down, little girl.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m not lost.”

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168 Chapter 168

You will be,” Flint said, cracking his knuckles with sounds like gunshots. “First time someone hits you for real”

Rico clapped his hands once, sharp and commanding. “Alright, ladies. Enough chatting. Time to work.”

The warm–up was brutal.

Burpees until my legs shook. Push–ups until my arms gave out. Sprints across the gym floor until I thought my lungs would burst. And

through it all, the men watched me struggle with barely concealed satisfaction.

“Come on, princess!” Flint shouted as I collapsed after my third set of burpees. “My grandmother moves faster than that!”

I pushed myself up. Did five more. Collapsed again.

“Pathetic,” someone muttered.

But I got up. Again. And again. Until the warm–up was finally over and my entire body was screaming for mercy.

“Sparring,” Rico announced. “Flint, you’re with Sera.”

Flint’s grin was terrifying. “With pleasure.”

In the pack training facility, Marcus, my former trainer–had been tough but fair. He’d pushed us hard but never tried to hurt us. Never

wanted us to fail.

This Flint was different.

He came at me like I owed him money. Fast, brutal, with no mercy or restraint. His first punch caught me in the ribs before I could even

think about blocking.

The air left my lungs in a rush. I stumbled backward, gasping.

“Block!” Rico shouted from somewhere far away. “Get your hands up!”

Flint didn’t wait for me to recover. He closed the distance with two steps and drove his fist toward my face.

I managed to get my hands up this time. His knuckles connected with my forearms hard enough to make my bones ache.

Then he swept my legs.

I hit the concrete floor so hard I saw stars. Before I could move, his weight was on top of me, his forearm pressing against my throat.

“Tap out,” he growled.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Panic clawed at my chest.

“TAP OUT!”

My hand slapped the floor twice. He released me immediately and stood up, leaving me gasping on the concrete.

“Twenty seconds,” someone said. “New record.”

Laughter echoed through the gym. Harsh and mocking.

“Get up,” Rico ordered.

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I couldn’t. My body wouldn’t cooperate.

“I said GET UP!”

Something in his voice made me move. I rolled onto my side, then my hands and knees, then finally to my feet. Everything hurt. My ribs,

my arms, my throat where Flint’s forearm had pressed.

“Again,” Rico said.

“What?”

“You heard me. Again.”

This time lasted thirty seconds before Flint had me in a chokehold. I tapped out before I passed out.

The third time, I lasted almost a minute.

By the tenth round, I was barely conscious. Blood dripped from my nose. My right eye was swelling shut. Every breath felt like someone

was stabbing my ribs.

“Enough,” Rico finally called.

I collapsed to my knees, grateful it was over.

“Not bad for a first day,” Flint said, and there might have been the tiniest hint of respect in his voice. “Most people quit after round three.”

The next three weeks were hell.

Every morning, I dragged myself to the gym at six AM. Every morning, the men were waiting with their cruel jokes and crueler fists.

Every morning, I got beaten, bruised, bloodied.

But I kept showing up.

“Your defense is shit,” the Eastern European guy told me after knocking me down for the fifth time in one session. “You leave yourself

open constantly.”

“Then teach me,” I gasped from the floor.

He looked surprised. “Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll keep being easy to beat. And where’s the fun in that?”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, incredibly, he laughed.

“Alright, little fighter. I show you.” He helped me to my feet. “Keep your elbows tight to your body. Like this. Hands high. Chin down.” 1

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

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