Chapter 08

The next several days were a blur of training and exhaustion. Xara would wake up early every morning to wrestle the triplets, which left her muscles sore. Zayne persevered in his demands, pushing her to her limits and putting her strength and willpower to the test. Luka liked to push her as far as he could before she lost control, and he was always ready to answer with a cheeky grin or caustic remark. And Rowan, the quiet, meticulous Rowan, rarely spoke, but when he did, it was with such power that there was no room for debate.

Every day ended with Xara injured, out of breath, and her body aching from stress. Despite the physical expense, she began to perceive an inward shift. Every sparring practice and time spent with the triplets brought the relationship closer. She sensed a deeper connection that she couldn't properly express, separate from the one that stemmed from her biological tie.

She wasn't sure if it was fear, respect, or something else entirely.

She was no longer the fragile omega who had entered the Savage Blood Pack's territory. Now, the marks on her skin acted as honorifics, emblems of her fortitude. Learning how to fight and defend herself gave her a sense of control that she hadn't realized she needed.

However, there was an unstated tension simmering beneath the surface, which grew with each fighting session and glance shared by her and the triplets. The connection was more than just their physical proximity to her; it was also in the way they looked at her, how their touches lasted for an unusually long time, and how their gazes darkened with a primal aspect that made her shiver.

It was becoming harder to ignore.

On the sixth day of training, Xara practiced her sword swings alone in the clearing. Her breath came in short bursts as she pushed her fatigued body to continue, sweat trickling down her brow. She felt Zayne was testing her endurance and pushing her to her limits, but he also told her to stay after the morning practice to work on her form.

Despite the ache in her arms, she continued to swing, the blade slicing through the air with a satisfying whoosh. She saw that she had made progress. In her hands, the sword no longer seemed like a strange object, but rather like an extension of her own body, a weapon she could employ with intent.

She'd never been faster, stronger, or more determined.

But, as she was about to finish, she sensed that someone was watching her. Her sword was up in a defense stance as her heart raced and she spun around.

Rowan stood at the edge of the clearing, his hard gaze fixed on her, dark eyes steadfast. He was so restrained and in control that she didn't even notice him.

"Rowan," Xara inhaled as she dropped her sword and maintained an attentive stance. "I was not hearing you."

His gaze was drawn to the weapon she was clutching before he could respond. "You've got better form."

Rowan had given her a rare compliment, and Xara felt a spark of joy from his words. It felt good to hear that her efforts had not gone unnoticed; she had worked hard. "I appreciate it," she said, blotting away her perspiration. "I've been working on it."

Rowan took a cautious, controlled stride forward. He was usually silent and alert as if he had carefully considered each word and action before making a decision. It was strange how he could make her feel both safe and uneasy at the same time.

His voice was low, but there was no hostility in it when he said, "You need more than form to survive here." "Instinct is necessary."

Xara growled and tightened her sword grip. "Natural."

Rowan never pulled his gaze away from hers, only nodding. You gain power through the relationship, but you must learn to trust it. Have faith in us.

Xara felt her heart racing in her chest. Have faith. She was unsure about that particular aspect. She could feel their connection, the one that tied her to the triplets, but trusting it, believing in them, was another story. Despite providing her with the means to survive, they had claimed her and linked her to them, and she was still tortured by a deep fear.

"Why me?" Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out, but she was astonished by how much it disturbed her after she uttered it. "What made you pick me?"

Rowan's eyes darkened slightly, accompanied by an unreadable flicker. He was silent for a time as if he didn't know how much to tell her. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle but heavy, making her stomach flip.

"Xara, we didn't pick you," he said, piercing your soul. The link worked. It is fate.

Destiny. She shuddered at the mention of the name. She wasn't sure how fate had led her to them, but it had. However, it was not the reception she had hoped for.

"Tragedy," she said, her tone tinted with bitterness. "You mean that I was stuck with this?"

Rowan's visage softened briefly before returning to its usual intensity. "Neither did we," we answered.

The significance of the words hovered between them. With the weight of what he had spoken, Xara's mind raced and her heart hammered in her chest. There was more to this than just domination and control, something she hadn't grasped until now. The link was about something bigger than all of them, not just having her.

Another voice broke through the tension before she could respond.

"A heart-to-heart between you two without me?"

Luka entered the meadow with his usual smile, but his eyes had a deeper quality to it. He shifted his gaze from Rowan to Xara, staring at her for a second too long before returning his focus to his brother.

Rowan did not even look at Luka and remained immobile. His gaze remained riveted on Xara as if their conversation had just begun.

Luka, however, was not one to give up easily. In a few quick strides, he crossed the area and stood next to Xara. His closeness was both soothing and unsettling, with a dangerous edge to the joyful energy he exuded. His eyes were piercing, and his voice was humorous as he asked, "What's going on here?"

Xara struggled to keep her voice steady as she replied, "Just training."

Luka's smile grew larger. "Training? Really?" Rowan looks to be attempting to engage in a serious, thoughtful discourse with you. Do not be misled by him; that one is all about tactics.

Xara had to admit that she was smiling somewhat at Luka's jokes. Even when it seemed like too much to handle, he had a knack for making things less stressful.

Finally, Rowan's gaze rested on Luka, his expression unreadable. "She must comprehend the relationship."

Luka's smile faded somewhat as he arched an eyebrow. Yes, she'll understand. Eventually.

There was a palpable tension between the brothers, but it wasn't one that implied conflict; rather, it was a deeper tension that Xara wasn't yet aware of. Despite their vast disparities, they were bound together by the same thread that held her to them, and they worked as one coherent unit, much like the pieces of a well-maintained machine.

There was Zayne after that.

Zayne appeared at the edge of the clearing as if summoned by her thoughts, his amber eyes searching the surroundings before focusing on Xara. He didn't say anything as he approached, but his very presence drew attention. Her heart rate would always race whenever she saw Zayne because of something about the way he carried himself and looked at her.

"Xara," he said steadily, but his passionate expression caused her breath to hitch. "You accomplished enough for today."

His tone left no room for discussion, and Xara nodded in appreciation of the break. The constant exercise was physically exhausting her, and despite her desire not to appear weak, she understood she needed to rest.

Luka stepped back, and his cheeky smile resurfaced. Pay attention to the boss, little omega. You deserve a break.

The weight of their gazes followed Xara as she turned to leave the area, their relationship tense with unspoken conflict. Their presence and emotions were felt in her mind like a gentle breeze stroking her own. She didn't ask for it, and she didn't fully understand the connection, but it was there, binding her to them in ways she couldn't break.

As she walked back toward the stone hall, she was aware of something that made her feel cold.

She had no urge to flee. Not anymore.