Jolyn
Sweat poured from my body as I fought against exhaustion. My muscles screamed for relief, but I remembered Lucious's harsh words. I had to prove that I was more than what he believed—a weak woman.
"Say it if you want to quit. Admit you're weak, princess."
"Never! You'll never hear me say that, not ever."
I wasn't going to let myself be defined by my past weakness. I clenched my teeth, pushing through the added weight on my arms as he commanded more squats.
"Squat, princess," he ordered, tapping my legs to remind me.
I wanted to scream at him, but I was too drained to waste any energy on anger. His mockery seemed to be part of the training, and I hoped someone would rescue me from his cruelty.
For an hour, he made me squat while he applied pressure to my arms. The pain was nearly unbearable.
"Come on, princess. Admit you can't handle it. Tell me," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. I wanted to stop, but I refused to give in. I pushed myself until I collapsed, unable to continue, while he crossed his arms with a smirk.
"I was right."
"Right about what? That I'm weak?" My voice rose in frustration.
He extended a hand to help me up, but I rejected it, forcing myself to stand.
"We'll move on to the next step," he said, indifferent to my plight.
"See that red flag over there? Run back and forth 1,000 times. You have 55 minutes," he declared, glancing at his watch.
"What? Are you serious? 55 minutes? After making me squat for nearly an hour?"
He ignored my protests, his eyes fixed on his watch.
"3…"
"What?"
"2…"
"No way!"
"1…"
His gaze locked onto me. "Your time starts now."
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to lash out at him.
"50 minutes left."
With a mix of determination and despair, I sprinted as fast as I could, knowing it was nearly impossible to meet his demand. He wouldn't allow me to change forms; if I did, he'd consider it an admission of weakness.
Exhaustion quickly set in. My legs felt like lead, and every step was a battle. He forced me to squat and run, pushing me beyond my limits. I questioned the purpose of this torture.
After 300 laps, he finally let me stop. Gasping for air, I collapsed on the ground, my body spent. The training was far tougher than I had anticipated. I had hoped to connect with Lucious, but his harsh methods were disheartening.
Sweat dripped into my eyes as I approached Lucious, trying to steady myself.
"Alright, what's next?" I asked, though I was barely able to stand.
"Did you see how tired I am? I need a break."
"I didn't say you could rest. I'll decide when the training is over," he said, showing no sympathy.
His cruelty was evident.
"Do you even have a heart? Are you angry with me?"
"Yes," he answered flatly.
"What?"
"You're weak," he said bluntly.
I looked away, fighting back tears. His words stung, but I forced myself to remain composed. His intent was clear—he wanted to break me to help me grow stronger.
"Don't get emotional. It will only make you weaker. We'll start the next part of the training in 10 minutes," he added.
I remained silent, accepting the harsh truth of his words. I needed to control my emotions if I wanted to improve.
As I stood there, a cold sensation landed on my forehead. I looked up to see Lucious placing a bottle of water on my head. The chill helped, and I saw a glimmer of his intention behind his stern facade. He wasn't entirely heartless; he was trying to push me to find my inner strength.
Our moment was interrupted by a clearing of the throat. Startled, we both turned to see the Lycan King.
"Your Highness," Lucious said, bowing.
I grabbed the water bottle and curtsied. "Father."
"How is the training going? Has anything unusual happened?"
I let Lucious explain. The situation felt awkward, with my father witnessing my struggle and Lucious's harsh methods. Lucious described the training, emphasizing my weaknesses and his determination to make me strong.
"That's good. Join us for dinner," my father said, patting Lucious on the shoulder with apparent approval.
"Continue with your training. I'm proud of you, my princess," he said, kissing my forehead despite my disheveled state.
"I'll return later. Keep going with your training," he added, turning to leave. Just before he exited, he added with a smirk, "But no kissing."
After over six grueling hours of training, I finally collapsed onto my soft bed, my body screaming for rest. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and I doubted I'd be able to walk properly tomorrow. Despite my overwhelming fatigue, dinner was imminent.
As I lay there with my eyes closed, I thought about Lucious. There was no denying he was handsome, but his demeanor was far from appealing. He showed no regard for emotions and was brutally straightforward.
"I'm so tired," I muttered to myself. I wasn't sure how many more days of this I could endure. I wondered if I could request a different trainer from my father.
The sound of a knock on my door broke my thoughts. I was too drained to get up, so I called out, granting permission for whoever it was to enter. Though my eyes remained closed, the footsteps were unmistakably those of my mother. I wanted to open my eyes, but my body refused to cooperate.
She settled beside me on the bed. "Tired?"
I nodded, too exhausted to form words. My energy was depleted, leaving me barely able to speak.
She chuckled softly, brushing the hair away from my face.
"Would you like me to bring your dinner here?"
I tried to respond, "I just want to sleep."
"But you haven't had dinner yet."
"Is Lucious still around?"
My mother hesitated before answering.
I wasn't ready to see Lucious's face again. I resented him for the way he made me feel.
"He's talking to your father. What happened?" she asked, noticing my distress.
Could I confide in her about how harsh Lucious was?