-Killian’s POV-

I’d been on a roller coaster since I stepped off the helicopter on the very first day. Now that I was more than two weeks in, the intensity hadn’t shown any signs of letting up. If we weren’t learning our targets’ biology, habits, and weaknesses, we were in the sparing ring against each other or in a live simulated mission in one of the base’s labyrinths. I’d done my fair share of training ops, but none of them included obstacles with a hungry werewolf. Dr. Chaplin had a problem with us training amongst the wolves, but she was quickly quieted by Hardaway.

The major’s motto was “go hard or go home,” and she needed proof that we could handle ourselves out in the field. There were some safeguards she had in place for our mock-ups. The wolves’ teeth and claws were sawed down beforehand, but that did little to ease my anxiety since it had to be done every time they changed. It was also mandatory that the wolves wore metal cables around their neck to deliver an electric shock if needed. That was somewhat more assuring than the grooming fail-safe, but again not by much.

What would happen to us when we had to get out there for real? It was true that all of us held special training, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were about to be sent out half-cocked.

Being in the military never garnered me many explanations from my superiors. Then again, if they’d been aware of the werewolf problem for centuries, why didn’t we have more time to ready ourselves to fight them? Something felt off.

During one of our live werewolf training sessions, a recent incident solidified my misgivings about our situation. Davis went in ahead of schedule and caused a shit storm that would’ve been tragic if it were real. Even worse, we ended up at each other throats. That was the problem. As individuals, we are stronger and faster, but we were getting nowhere as a team.

That didn’t surprise me because a good team needed time to build trust. Dr. Chaplin blamed the flair of tempers on the meds. That could be part of it for all I knew, but that was just one of many factors showing that this wasn’t coming together correctly.

We seemed to have fractured into mini-alliances. Garvey and Hernandez stuck together, as expected. McPherson and Washington gravitated towards me, even though I didn’t recall having much to say in the matter. Davis mostly kept to herself. Things definitely had to change if we were going to make it out of this in one piece.

I went into the military to simplify my life, not to deal with drama, supernatural or otherwise.

McPherson’s voice interrupted my thoughts, “Hey old man, are you ready to find out what getting your ass handed to you feels like?”

A smile threatened to break my blank expression. McPherson got a kick out of calling me old even though I was only thirty-four. To be fair, I did have the habit of calling him kid, but that had more to do with his maturity than his actual age. I wasn’t lucky enough to have a childhood that tolerated much immaturity growing up.

I entered the ring to McPherson already dancing around it. I wondered if he had learned that by watching boxing matches. It was more likely he got it from some action movie he had watched. I couldn’t say the kid wasn’t good. He had to be to have gotten into SEALs so young.

I actually liked him, and with every passing day, I wished he wasn’t picked for this team. He could’ve made a damn good SEAL. When I looked into his face, I saw the naïve optimism all early twenty-somethings seemed to survive on. He was invincible as far as he was concerned. Still, he did show growth even in the short time we had been here.

McPherson was a fresh as they came, straight out of SEAL training. He swore me to secrecy, which made sense. Anyone would rather have a more seasoned operative, especially when their ass was on the line. So against my initial mindset, I took it upon myself to teach him as much as possible in the time allotted. I prayed it would be enough to get him out of this in one piece, or at least enough to help with my conscience when he didn’t.

“We’ll soon see whose ass will be placed on the serving platter, kid,” I teased.

The increased amount of LT4 Dr. Chaplin gave closed the physical gap between the experienced and the novice. But the build-up of aggression seemed to double while we were on the medication, giving the clearest thinker the advantage. Maybe today was McPherson’s day to shine, but something told me it wasn’t, not yet anyway.

McPherson fought the urge to bare his bright yellow mouth guard as I watched his eyes gloss over, taking on a wild fury. I inhaled deeply, smelling the frenzy coming off of him. I just might have to work for my victory today… if he found a way to calm himself.

“Watch your temper McPherson, you don’t want to make this a cakewalk for me, do you?”

All the muscles in McPherson’s neck became pronounced as he chose his attack stance. I hid my smirk, placing my own protective gear in my mouth. I only had a few moments to notice that all eyes were on us as McPherson charged with his first attack. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

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