My Alpha Stepbrother’s Hate Hides Our Fated Bond

"Bloodline pairs, center ring!" Coach Garrick’s whistle pierced the muggy afternoon air. "Move! I want to see pack synchrony today. No excuses."

The turf crunched under dozens of heavy combat boots as the Lycan Academy students scrambled into position. Siblings found each other instantly, bumping shoulders and stretching out their limbs.

I stood at the edge of the training field, my fingers picking at the frayed hem of my gym shirt.

Ethan stood ten yards away, adjusting the leather bracers on his forearms. He didn't glance in my direction.

I forced my feet to move. Step by step, I crossed the distance, the hostile stares of my classmates burning into the side of my face.

"Ethan," I said, keeping my voice low.

He didn't look up. He yanked the strap on his right bracer tight.

"Coach Garrick called for sibling pairs," I tried again, stepping into his line of sight.

"Find someone else." His tone was flat, completely devoid of emotion.

"I can't. It's a bloodline drill."

"We don't share blood."

"You know what the rules are," I pushed, my frustration bubbling up. "Just for ten minutes. We don't even have to talk."

Ethan finally raised his head. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, freezing the words in my throat.

"Hale!" Coach Garrick barked, striding toward us with a clipboard in hand. "Where is your partner? Get your sister in the ring."

"I'm running the drill alone," Ethan declared, his gaze never leaving my face.

Garrick frowned, tapping his pen against the metal clip. "Academy rules, Alpha. Blood pairs train together. It builds the pack bond. You need to show leadership."

"I am showing leadership," Ethan shot back. "By cutting the dead weight."

The surrounding chatter died instantly. Fifty pairs of ears tuned into the confrontation.

"She is registered as your ward-sister," Garrick warned, his voice dropping an octave. "Pair up. Now."

Ethan turned his entire body to face the instructor. "I don't need her. Don't let her drag me down."

A harsh silence blanketed the field.

"Are you refusing a direct order, Hale?" Garrick demanded.

"If the order includes her, yes." Ethan gestured toward me without actually looking at me. "I won't compromise my training for a half-breed who can't even hold a defensive stance. Fail me if you want."

"You're the future Alpha of this territory," Garrick said, his jaw tight.

"Exactly," Ethan replied, his voice ringing out loud enough for the entire class to hear. "Which means I choose who stands at my side. She isn't one of them."

He spun on his heel and walked toward the solo heavy bags at the far end of the arena.

I stood completely still. The afternoon sun beat down on my shoulders, but I felt nothing but freezing cold.

"Did he really just tell the Coach to fail him over her?" Chloe, the blonde girl from the hallway, laughed openly.

"I'd rather fail than carry a mutt, too," a bulky guy named Thorne sneered, bumping his fists together.

"She doesn't even have a full wolf form, does she?" another girl whispered loudly.

"Just a pathetic half-shift. Hey, Lila, want to fetch our water bottles instead?" Jace called out from the center ring.

Laughter erupted across the turf.

"Enough!" Garrick shouted, blowing his whistle again. "Focus on your own partners! Lila, get out of the way. Stand by the outer fence."

"Yes, Coach," I muttered.

I retreated to the chain-link barrier, pressing my spine against the cold metal. I crossed my arms over my chest, digging my fingernails into my own skin to anchor myself. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

The drills began. The air filled with the sounds of grunts, shifting bones, and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the dirt. Pairs practiced synchronized takedowns, their movements fast and brutal.

I kept my eyes fixed on the dust swirling over the turf, refusing to look at Ethan.

"Watch your left flank!" Jace yelled across the field.

Thorne and his brother were sparring dangerously close to my corner. Thorne was massive, his muscles bulging as his eyes flashed gold. He lunged forward, aiming a heavy right hook.

His brother ducked, sweeping his leg out in a brutal counterattack.

Thorne lost his footing. His massive frame went airborne, hurtling backward out of the ring.

Straight toward me.

"Watch out!" someone screamed.

I froze. The sheer size of the wolf crashing toward me locked my joints in place. There was no time to dodge.

A sudden roar tore through the chaos.

It wasn't a warning shout. It was a raw, terrifying sound of pure aggression.

From the corner of my eye, a blur of motion erupted from the heavy bags. Ethan.

He launched himself across the turf. The speed was unnatural, tearing up chunks of grass beneath his boots. His arm extended, his fingers hooked into claws, reaching out to intercept Thorne's flying body. His eyes were completely black, fixated entirely on me.

He was coming to save me.

But midway across the field, his entire body jerked.

Ethan slammed his boots into the dirt, physically fighting his own forward momentum. His muscles bunched so tightly I heard the fabric of his shirt rip at the shoulders. He twisted his torso violently to the right, forcing himself to stop.

He locked his knees, dropped his outstretched hand, and snapped his head away, staring blankly at the empty bleachers.

*Crash.*

Thorne slammed into the chain-link fence inches from my left shoulder. The metal buckled outward under his weight. A jagged piece of wire snapped, slicing across my cheek.

I stumbled sideways, falling hard onto the dusty ground.

"Holy shit, Thorne, you okay?" Jace ran over, grabbing his friend’s arm.

"Yeah, yeah. Slipped," Thorne groaned, pulling himself out of the dented fence. He glanced down at me. "Move next time, mutt."

I didn't answer him. I touched my cheek. My fingers came away slick with bright red blood.

"Lila, you alive over there?" Coach Garrick called out from the center ring, barely pausing his stopwatch.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice hollow.

I didn't look at the coach. I didn't look at Thorne.

I looked at Ethan.

He stood exactly where he had stopped himself, ten feet away. His back remained entirely turned to me. He was playing the part of the indifferent Alpha perfectly. He hadn't even flinched when Thorne hit the fence.

"See? Hale didn't even blink," Chloe whispered to her partner. "He truly doesn't care if she gets crushed."

I pushed myself off the dirt, brushing the dust from my knees. My chest ached with a deep, hollow rhythm.

Then, I noticed his hands.

Ethan's arms hung rigidly at his sides. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles strained against the skin.

A single drop of dark blood slipped from his right hand, hitting the turf. Then another.

He was digging his own claws into his palms.

I stared at the small crimson spots staining the grass by his boots. He forced himself to bleed just to stop himself from touching me.

"Rotate partners!" Garrick shouted.

Ethan finally moved, walking back to the heavy bags without a single backward glance.

I wiped the blood from my cheek, my eyes tracing the deep, jagged gouges his boots had left in the solid earth when he forced himself to stop.

He hated me. He wanted me gone.

So why did his blood smell exactly like the sorrow radiating from my own wolf?