My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

9: Chapter 9 SADISTIC BASTARD 9: Chapter 9 SADISTIC BASTARD SERAPHINA’S POV

I didn’t understand the dream.

The first part made sense—after Lucian’s tempting offer, of course my perpetually unmoored soul would crave that kind of warm validation.

But the ending… it defied all logic.

Especially the moment I recognized the face.

Kieran Blackthorne.

A wave of self-disgust washed over me.

Pathetic.

Hadn’t a decade of his disdain, his cold neglect, been enough to kill that foolish part of me?

He’d married me and kept me like a piece of furniture.

He’d asked for a divorce the night I lost my father.

He’d watched me humiliated at the memorial and done nothing.

And in the woods, when death stared me down, I’d known with absolute certainty he wasn’t coming for me.

He’d been somewhere else, with her, Celeste.

‘Time to let go of the stupid obsession, Sera,’ I scolded myself.

‘Besides, maybe you only saw his face because he’s the only man you’ve ever had.’

It was a brutal truth.

Kieran Blackthorne was the only man I’d ever slept with.

And more pitifully, even that had been a transaction—a silent, efficient claiming devoid of warmth, touch, or kiss.

Just a physical need met, leaving me feeling used and hollow, like a rag discarded after cleaning up a mess.

Goddess, looking back, how did I endure being treated like garbage for so long?

“Mom?”

Daniel’s voice pulled me from the toxic spiral.

He stood at the foot of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

“Sweetheart!” I hurried over, my heart softening at the sight.

His curls were sticking around every which way, and I gently ran a hand through them.

“Did I wake you?”

He shook his head.

“Your phone alarm, for school.”

I glanced at the clock—seven a.m.

“Right.

I made your favorite pancakes.

Come on!”

His eyes lit up, but then he pouted.

“I was supposed to take care of you.”

I kissed his temple.

“And you will, after school.

But for now, you need fuel to learn.

Deal?”

He relented, scampering off to the kitchen with a revived excitement.

After dropping Daniel off, I returned home, showered, and sat at my desk.

My right arm ached dully in its sling.

My mind, cluttered with too much recent chaos, refused to settle into writing.

I’m not sure how long I sat there before my gaze landed on Lucian’s parting gift.

The contact card lay on the side table—an invitation.

I grabbed my phone and typed into the search bar: Out of the Shadows.

The first result was a website, and when I clicked on it, I was bombarded with a slew of information.

My curiosity was piqued as I read through.

Founded ten years ago, OTS had rapidly grown into something of a haven for werewolves like me—wolfless, weak, outcasts.

There were pictures, a virtual facility tour, and testimonials from wolves who had benefited from the organization’s generosity.

Something ballooned up in me as I drank in all the information—hope.

A sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in forever.

So I copied the number on the card to my phone and sent out a message.

‘Hi Lucian, It’s Sera.

I’ve considered it; I’d love a tour sometime.’

***

“And finally, this is the Sparring Arena,” Lucian said, waving his arm around the room with a flourish.

Slowly, I spun, taking in the large circular space.

We were at the final spot on the tour of the OTS headquarters.

We hadn’t bothered with the administrative wing of the building.

“Boring numbers and papers, nothing fun there,” Lucian had said.

Then he’d shown me the several training facilities they had.

He showed me the Core Pit, a sunken arena with natural stone walls for climbing and leaping, as well as logs, builders, and weighted chains for resistance training.

Then there was the Moon Hall, where the wolves who could Shift practiced restraints and meditation techniques to help them control their powers.

There was an intricate outdoor obstacle course with trees, rocks, and trenches designed for both humans and wolves.

There was even an underground den lined with moss, heated dens, and fire pits for resting, healing, and mental recovery.

Overall, it was the most impressive building I’d ever been in.

Making Lucian Reed the most remarkable person I’d ever met for thinking to do this for a group of people that the world had written off.

Like the general design of the OTS headquarters, the Sparring Arena was a sleek, open-air space reinforced with steel and obsidian.

Lucian explained that the padded floor absorbed impact while embedded sensors tracked movement and force.

He pointed out transparent barriers that rose around the perimeter, allowing spectators to watch without interfering.

“Does that happen often?” I asked.

“Spectating.” I imagined a roaring crowd, cheering people on as they fought to the death like gladiators.

Lucian shrugged.

“It’s mainly to track progress for feedback.”

I exhaled.

“This all so…

overwhelming.”

Lucian chuckled.

“That’s because you’ve never been in an actual training facility, have you?”

He was right.

I’d never trained before.

My pack completely ostracized me for not having a wolf.

Of course, I was never part of pack runs, and no one was willing to help me train in other aspects.

“Is yours different?” I asked.

He nodded.

“OTS has the largest training facility in Los Angeles.

And since it’s located in neutral territory, many wolves from other packs train here.

Our trainers are equipped to teach even the most feeble werewolves.”

I swallowed tightly, feeling that hope rise higher.

“So, there would be someone willing to teach me?”

Lucian’s smile was soft, kind.

“I would teach you personally.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

Lucian took a step forward, and my amusement faded as I craned my neck back to keep his gaze.

“I’m serious, Sera.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“But…

why would you?

You’re an Alpha.

Don’t you have more important things to do?”

His lips twitched.

“Important?

Yes.

More important?” He shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Oh.” I’d spent my whole life being the less important choice, so I was thrown a little off-balance.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“Ready for your first lesson?”

I absentmindedly rolled my left shoulder.

It had been a week since the rogue attack, but my injury had healed nicely.

The stitches were out, and other than the occasional annoying ache, I was as good as new, more or less.

Training with Lucian would ensure I was never put in a vulnerable position where I could be injured again.

“Yeah,” I exhaled.

“I’m ready.”

***

Lucian Reed, the Alpha who saved weak wolves and paid them home visits, was kind, gentle, and warm.

Lucian Reed, the trainer, was a sadistic bastard.

“Stop, stop!” I panted, holding a hand out as my knees buckled, sending me to the floor.

Lucian paced in front of me, his combat boots thudding against the padded floors of the private training room.

The Arena was for sparring, but OTS had hundreds of private training rooms, each divided by sliding one-way glass doors where one-on-one training took place.

It was where Lucian had made me regret ever being born.

“Get up, Seraphina,” Lucian said.

His voice was unrecognizable—hard, merciless.

“You have more fight in you.”

“No,” I wheezed, my hands trembling as I doubled over and tried not to throw up.

“I don’t.”

It had started with simple tasks—posture, stance, and how to make a proper fist.

It had quickly escalated to suicidal drills—wall sits, burpees, bear crawls, push-ups, planks, and the absolute fucking bane of my existence: controlled fall and recovery, which essentially required me to throw myself down on the mat and pop back up with the speed that made me breathless and nauseous.

I felt Lucian crouch down before me, and I half-panted, half-growled.

“I swear, Lucian, if you make me—”

I looked up to see him smiling down at me, the murderous trainer mask dissolved.

“I expected you to tap out half an hour ago,” he said, his voice dripping with pride.

“I’m impressed, Sera.

I knew you had it in you.”

And even though Lucian was blurring at the edges, there was a suspicious ringing in my ears, and it felt like my heart was pounding in my belly, pride flooded my veins.

“You.

Suck,” I panted.

He tilted his head.

“So you don’t want hot packs?”

My hands gave out, and I rolled, sprawling on my back.

“No, please.”

The workout clothes Lucian had supplied me were soaked through and through, and every muscle in me screamed in agony, but I’d never felt so…

elated.

Lucian’s face loomed over me, inverted, as he braced his hands on both sides of my head.

“This is just your first session,” he said.

“Imagine how strong you’ll be after several.”

I grinned, looking into his twinkling blue eyes.

I imagined it, and a rush of adrenaline flooded me.

The idea of not being weak, fragile, or useless.

“Thank you,” I said, the words heartfelt.

He offered a hand.

I took it without hesitation, letting him pull me to my feet.

My muscles still trembled, but it was a manageable ache.

“That’s enough for your trial today,” he said, giving me a genuine smile.

“There will be plenty of time to get acquainted once you’re officially enrolled.”

I nodded, falling into step beside him as we left the training room.

But my smile vanished the moment I recognized the figure approaching us down the hallway.

Kieran.

What was he doing here?