uncer 321

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Chapter 321 

ROMAN 

I didn’t know what he was expecting from me. 

That was the worst part. 

When Mr… Alpha, Alexander said he would mentor me, I had assumed it meant strategy. Discipline. Combat refinement. I didn’t expect… this. 

We stood in the open training field just beyond the pack grounds again. Dawn had barely broken, the sky washed in pale gray. The earth was cool under my boots, packed dirt lined with wooden posts, elevated beams, and marked sprint lanes. 

It looked like any other training ground. 

It did not feel like one. 

Alexander stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight, expression unreadable. He hadn’t explained much. Just that we would start with “basics.” 

“Speed first,” he said. 

That was all. 

I rolled my shoulders, trying to release the stiffness in my muscles. I was knew to everything, but I felt this 

wasn’t regular training. 

It felt like he was looking for something specific. 

“From that line,” he instructed calmly, nodding toward a white mark carved into the dirt. “Sprint to the end 

marker. Pivot. Weave through the posts. Clear the barrier.” 

I glanced at the setup. Straight sprint path. Ten wooden posts in a zigzag pattern. A waist–high obstacle at 

the end. 

Simple. 

I positioned myself at the line. 

Alexander didn’t count me down. He didn’t shout commands. 

He just said, “Go.” 

I pushed off hard. 

The first few strides were solid. My breathing even. My body responding the way it had for days now. But halfway down the sprint, something strange happened. 

I started thinking. 

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Should I hold back energy for the turn? 

Am I running too fast? 

What is he watching for? 

+25 Points 

That split–second of calculation slowed me. I hit the pivot stiffly, my boot dragging a fraction too long 

against the dirt. It cost me balance. I recovered quickly, but it threw off my rhythm entering the weave. 

I clipped the third post with my arm. 

The dull thud echoed louder than it should have. 

By the time I reached the barrier, I hesitated–not visibly, not enough for most people to notice–but 

enough. My jump came late. My shin scraped the wood as I cleared it, and my landing was heavier than it 

should have been. 

I straightened, pretending it hadn’t rattled me. 

Silence. 

I looked at Alexander. 

He hadn’t moved. 

“You’re hesitating,” he said evenly. 

“I’m not,” I replied automatically. 

“Don’t challenge me unless you’re sure of how to yourself.” 

Something inside me tightened. 

“I told you,” he continued, stepping closer now, eyes sharp but not raised in anger, “stop thinking.” 

I frowned. “I thought thinking was how to avoid mistakes.” 

“Not here.” 

His gaze locked onto mine, steady and unblinking. 

“You’re trying to calculate every movement before you make it. That delay is costing you.” 

I swallowed. I didn’t understand what he meant. Calculate less? Move blindly? 

“That instinct you keep suppressing?” he added quietly. “That’s what I’m looking for. Don’t waste my time.” 

Instinct. 

I should have instinct… Even humans do. 

But the way he said it… it felt like he meant something else. 

“Again,” he ordered. 

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I returned to the line. 

+25 Points 

This time I tried to move without planning each step. I forced myself not to analyze the terrain, not to 

anticipate the pivot too early. 

Iran. 

And somehow, that made it worse. 

Without calculation, I felt exposed. Off–balance. My movements lacked confidence. I hit the pivot too sharply this time, nearly losing footing entirely. The weave between posts was clumsy. My jump over the barrier lacked power. 

When I landed, I felt it–frustration rising hot in my chest. 

Alexander exhaled slowly. 

“You don’t trust your body.” 

That stung. 

“I trust it,” I snapped. 

“No,” he said, voice still maddeningly calm. “You trust your mind. Your body is an afterthought.” 

I didn’t respond. 

Because he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

He circled me once. 

“You’re strong,” he said. “You’re disciplined. But you move like someone waiting for permission.”. 

My jaw tightened. 

“I have to wait for your permission.” 

“That is what you think.” 

Silence stretched between us. 

The tone of it irritated me more than the criticism itself. 

We moved into reflex drills next. He tossed weighted balls at unpredictable intervals, forcing me to react 

without warning. I caught some. Missed others. 

Every time I hesitated–every time I tried to anticipate the trajectory instead of simply reacting–I failed. 

“Too slow.” 

“You’re watching instead of responding.” 

“You’re bracing for impact instead of moving with it.” 

His corrections were sharp, direct. No softening. No praise. 

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After the fifth failed sequence, my arms burned. My lungs felt tight. 

Frustration bled into self–doubt. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he expected something from me that simply wasn’t there. 

We ended with agility runs across a narrow elevated beam. I stepped onto it carefully, aware of my balance, calculating every foot placement. 

Halfway across, I faltered. 

Alexander’s voice cut through the morning air. 

“If you fall, you start over.” 

I finished the beam this time, but it wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fluid. 

When I stepped down, sweat clung to my shirt despite the cool air. My chest rose and fell heavily. 

Alexander studied me in silence for several long seconds. 

“You feel it,” he said finally. 

I frowned. “Feel what?” 

“That resistance.” 

I didn’t answer. 

Because I did feel something. 

+25 Points 

A tension beneath my skin. A restless current that surfaced during the drills–especially when I stopped overthinking for even a split second. There had been flashes. Moments where my body reacted before my mind caught up. 

They were brief. Uncontrolled. 

But they were there. 

“You’re holding something back,” he continued quietly. “Not consciously. But it’s there.” 

I didn’t know what he meant. I didn’t know how to figure it out. 

All I knew was that I was exhausted–and irritated that I couldn’t meet whatever invisible standard he had 

set. 

“That’s enough for today,” he said at last. 

Relief mixed with disappointment in a way I didn’t expect. 

As he turned to leave, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Effort isn’t what I expect from you.” 

I stiffened. 

“I expect more.” 

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Then he walked away. 

+25 Points 

I stood there alone in the quiet field, chest still heaving, dirt clinging to my boots. My muscles ached, but it was the frustration that weighed heavier. 

I didn’t understand what he wanted. 

I didn’t understand what I was missing. 

And I hated that he could see it. 

Faye found me later near the water trough by the side of the grounds. I had washed the dirt from my 

hands but hadn’t moved much beyond that. 

She approached quietly. 

“Tough session?” she asked gently. 

I let out a dry breath. “He says I hesitate. I think he’s disappointed.” 

Her expression softened, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t dismiss it. 

“He’s hard on people he believes in,” she said. 

“That doesn’t feel encouraging.” 

“It’s not meant to.” 

I glanced at her. 

“He wouldn’t waste his time if he didn’t see something,” she added quietly. 

I looked back toward the field where we had trained. 

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