Treasure
Finding Her Place

The Battle of the Coral See, as the morning encounter was soon named, was instant legend among the Packs. Unlike the World War II battle that was the first in history solely between aircraft carrier groups, Coral’s decisive victory was against a numerically superior force and she came out unscathed. The video spread quickly, reaching every Pack before the three men were even released from the Infirmary.

The cadets were being treated like a military boot camp; the Council was breaking them down and building them up the right way. She could feel them all watching her as she stood with the other instructors, dressed in running shorts, sports bra, loose T-shirt and runners with low socks. She held herself above them all, her eyes showing only disdain for the ones who were still here. She looked at each of them, her wolf forward and challenging them. Were they hiding their true feelings for women as those three men had done?

Beta Carlson walked in front of the assembled instructors and looked out at the thirty-eight men, from ten to thirty, who formed his charge. Three were still in the infirmary. “It has come to my attention that you men have too much free time in the morning,” he said with an evil grin. “If you have time enough to get in trouble, you have time to run. And I just LOVE running.” The cadets were rolling their eyes, knowing whatever was coming would suck. “Instructor Nygaard.”

Coral stepped forward two paces and stood at attention. “YES BETA.”

“Do you love running?”

“I FUCKING LOVE IT, BETA.”

“Excellent! Would you mind taking these men out for a run?”

“Not at all, Beta.”

“They’re all yours.” He and the other instructors walked off, leaving her alone with them. The men were split into three squads, three lines in front of her. She walked in front of each man, evaluating each of them with her wolf. Her dominance out, she felt for theirs, and most submitted easily. The ones that fought would learn soon enough.

“We’ll take it easy this morning, just ten miles or so,” she said as she walked to the front. “This is an evaluation. Passing time for the platoon is ninety minutes. Riiight, FACE! Forward, MARCH! Doubletime, HUH!” She started the stopwatch ran alongside them, leading them to the road that circled from the Pack House to the Lake and the entrance road. It was an easy start, and she settled them into an eight-minute-mile pace. “Jacobs,” she yelled to the future Beta who was the most dominant of the wolves in the platoon, “Set the pace.”

The first few miles were easy, but she reminded Jacobs of the time requirement as they reached the uphill portions of the course. She ran alongside the men, shouting out encouragement or correction as needed.

By eight miles, students were starting to drop out of the ranks as they couldn’t take the pace anymore. She sent messages to the other instructors, they would be collected and pushed to continue once the formation was out of sight, but she needed to see how the men would react. It was as she had feared; their leader didn’t care that men were dropping out, he was going to finish in time and the others felt the same. “This is going to be tougher than I thought,” she sent to Beta Carlson. “There is no cohesion.”

“They need to learn that a Pack only moves as fast as the weakest member. I trust you can help them learn?”

“Absolutely.” She called out the split time, and the men quickened the pace until they were at a sprint for the last half mile. By the time they returned to the field where Beta Carlson was waiting, the formation had completely broken down. The Beta called out the finish times, and the ones that came in under ninety minutes stood around looking happy.

“FORM UP,” Coral yelled. Jacobs took his place at the front right, and the men fell into their normal spots, leaving openings for the men who had started to trickle in. “YOU MEN FAILED,” she said as she walked in front of them, not even winded by the easy run.

“I finished three minutes under the passing time,” Jacobs said, looking over at her. His eyes filled with lust as he took in her body, sweat causing the T-shirt to cling to her. He was one of the ones she was going to have trouble with, and it was starting already.

She got up in his face. “The passing time for the PLATOON was ninety minutes. Where the fuck is the rest of your PLATOON, Jacobs?” His face dropped, as did most of the men she could see nearby. “YOU set the pace. YOU left your men behind, and the rest of you didn’t do a thing to help them out.” She looked back at the trail where the instructors were pushing some men to finish.“You men are going to learn it’s about the Pack, not YOU. Get your formation together and go back and pick up the stragglers.”

She watched as Jacobs formed them up and ran them back down the trail. “How long do you think it will take them to figure it out?”

“These men are stubborn. Alpha Todd despised weakness, he taught his men to fight for position and take advantage of those below them. It won’t change quickly.”

“Can I have them every morning at five? That gives them enough time to shower and change before breakfast.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said as the formation came back into sight. “They have classroom next, meet me in the combat rings for your evaluation,” he said. “This assignment is more than just helping these men. It’s a time for you to learn and grow in your fighting and your leadership.”

“Who is doing the evaluation?”

“Me. No pressure, though. All the other Instructors and the Council will be watching.”

“Good. Then I’ll only need to do this once.” He laughed as they walked towards the training facility.

Rori changed into her workout gear and slipped down the stairway to the basement. Walking in, the same two men were in there, one was still on the weights while the other was on the speed bag. She warmed up with the jumprope, then went to the wall and picked out the smallest pair of gloves she could find. “You fight,” the man on the speed bag said, a little shocked as he saw her start to punch and kick the heavy bag.

“I do, I started doing MMA a few months ago and got hooked. I’m Rori.”

The man stopped and came over, bumping fists with her. “Taco,” he said. He was about twenty-five, and looked to be a middleweight. His muscles were well-defined on his five-foot-ten height. “I box, at least when I can find a sparring partner. Everyone except Bear, who’s just too big for me, and Reaper, who’s I’m afraid of, doesn’t want to take the beating.”

“I’m up for a spar,” she said.

He looked at her, she was probably 75 pounds lighter than him and he would have a big advantage in reach. “You sure?”

“I’m tougher than I look.” He looked reluctant. “Look, it’s just a spar. I’ll wear headgear and get a workout in, I need to work on my boxing and defense anyway.”

“You’re on, Rori.” They went to the wall, where they both put on the protective headgear. “Hey Smoke, give us a hand?” The guy put the weights away and came over, he was a black man, about twenty, and had abs you could open a beer bottle with. He helped them put on the heavier boxing gloves and volunteered to referee.

“Three minute rounds, keep it clean, break if I tell you,” he told them in the ring. “Box.” They started to circle each other, and Taco sent a few jabs her way without much behind them. Rori smiled, they always underestimated her, and she loved the look they got when they realized they were in a cage with a wildcat. She was light on her feet, easily moving away, and when he overextended his jab she was ready.

Instead of moving back or to the side, she ducked down and stepped in, landing a right cross to his stomach followed like lightning by a left hook to the ribs. Before he could respond, she was already dancing away from him. His eyes got big, and she smiled before she saw him get serious. He got back in his stance, stalking her as she floated around the ring. He tested her defenses, using his jab and moving her into the corners where her speed wouldn’t help her. The first round ended, basically a draw; both had landed punches, but neither had done real damage.

She drank from her bottle as she listened to Taco and Smoke whisper to each other. Her hearing, always good, seemed to be better than ever. “Dude, she’s gonna kick your ass if you can’t keep her in the corner.”

“She’s a girl, I can’t beat her up.”

“Shit, bro. She’s got no problem beating on your ass. Quit playing around.”

He called them to the center and started the second round. Taco was more aggressive, keeping Rori on her heels and defensive. She never gave him a stationary target and managed to duck out of the corners before her could use his size or strength against her. He was starting to get winded, and she started landing more counter-punches and combinations as the round came to a close.

Round three started the same way, but she got trapped in a corner and he took advantage. She kept her gloves up, moving around and avoiding direct hits, until she left her right side open on a cross. His big left hand came out of nowhere, smashing into the left side of her headgear and dropping her to the ground. Smoke moved between them, pushing Taco to a neutral corner, then returned to her. She was pulling her way back up the ropes. “Look at me,” he said.

“I’m fine.” He looked at her, she could focus and was ready. “Don’t stop this.”

“You sure?” She nodded, and he let her go. Rori knew she had to change the momentum, so when he restarted, she took the fight to him. Moving inside his cross, she pushed him into the ropes and let loose a fast combo on his ribs. He pushed her off, but she was relentless, forcing him to keep his elbows down and protect his ribs. It was a good effort, but he waited for his moment and nailed her with a straight cross. This time she dropped, and Smoke waved the fight to an end. “Two knockdown rule,” he said as he pushed Taco to the corner.

Taco looked down in horror, he knew the spar was unfair and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He used his teeth to loosen the laces and ripped his gloves off, then pulled off the headgear. Smoke had taken her headgear off as she lay on the ring. He knelt down to find her laughing. “You all right, girl?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I was just thinking of something my friend used to say.”

Smoke helped her to her feet. “What could be so funny?”

“She used to tell me, ‘Never fight an ugly guy, they’ve got nothing to lose.’” Smoke roared with laughter as Taco leaned back.

“Good fight,” she said as she gave him a hug.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said.

“You didn’t hurt me, you helped me get better. I asked for this.” They walked out of the ring and put their gear back. “Just don’t tell anyone about this fight,” she said as she looked at them.

“Why? You’re damn good for your size and age, you should be proud of this.”

“I’d rather be underestimated.”

Taco smiled, an idea coming to his mind. “Being underestimated brings a lot better odds, if you’re a betting man. Keep it quiet, buddy, we’ll make some cash with this girl.” Dinner was approaching, and with that would come Church, where she would be the center of conversation.

Mongo and Three Tequila parked in the driveway of Rori’s condo in Orlando, Roadkill right next to them. He got off his Harley and knocked on the door. “Roadkill?” Donna looked at him, then the two in the driveway. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, Donna.”

She looked at him, she had enjoyed her time at the party with the big man, but her daughter was missing. “I need to stay here, Rori’s missing,” she said.

Roadkill nodded to her mother, who was coming up behind her. “Your Mom will be here, and this is important. Please.” She looked at her Mom, then nodded and followed him out. “Don’t say anything, please,” he said as she climbed on the back of his bike.

They rode through the streets until they came to a house, and the door opened before they pulled in. They stopped the bikes and he helped her off; when she started to say something, he held his finger over his lips and stopped her. Using a handheld metal detector, he did a quick scan; removing her phone, he placed it in the storage saddle on his motorcycle, sealing the hard top. He then used another device with an antenna, when it didn’t show anything he smiled. “Sorry about the security, but we had to be sure. Come on in,” he said.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” she said as they went into the kitchen of his house.

He pulled back a chair for her at the table as Bear and Tequila sat down; opening the refrigerator, he pulled out four beers and put them on the table. “You were under surveillance, Donna. We couldn’t talk until we were sure you were clean.”

“Surveillance?”

“I got a call from Rori this morning,” Bear said.

“WHAT? Where is she? Why didn’t she call me?”

“She’s on the run, Donna.” He laid out the story he had been told, including additional details he’d gotten from Bear after she arrived at the Manchester chapter. He watched the emotions play on her face as she found out about the man who had followed them from Minnesota, her blackout and escape from their home, and the tracking device on her motorcycle. “Ashley and her father have to be involved, it was her idea to go up there and she wasn’t surprised to see this guy. If they had a tracker on her motorcycle, you can bet they have one on your car, cameras, probably bugs in your house.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t know, but the old guy said the same thing her kidnappers did, that she belongs with them.” He reached across and took her hand. “She’s safe, she’s with people I trust who will hide her from them. She’s afraid to contact you or come home because she thinks the bad men will hurt you or your Mom just like they did Jenny. I have to agree with her, it’s better to stay hidden right now.”

“She’s all right?” He nodded. “The police called me this morning, Ashley’s father reported her missing. They put out an alert on her.” She pulled the paper out of her pocket with the name and number of the officers in New York.

Mongo sat back in the chair, he hadn’t expected them to involve the police. “They can’t find her,” he said. “Call them back, tell them she has contacted you and is staying with friends. The last thing we need is for her to get picked up.” Roadkill handed her a phone, and she made the call, then hung up and looked at the three.

“Can I talk to her?”

“It’s not a good idea,” Roadkill said. “If they get any inkling you know where she is, they might go after you. Tell your Mom, tell everyone you know that she’s run away. If you need to get her a message, let Mongo know. He and Tequila will be the only ones who know where she is.”

“My baby,” she cried. “Why do they want her?”

“I don’t know,” Mongo said, “But I’m going to find out.”

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