One Night With My Alpha Professor

Third Person

Edwin's fists connected with the punching bag in a steady, easy, Emiliar rhythm.

The satisfying thud of each impact reverberated through the quiet training room, drowning out the world beyond. At twenty years old, he was in his prime, his body honed to perfection through years of dedicated training.

Sweat glistened on his tanned skin under the harsh fluorescent lights, his muscles rippling with each powerful strike. The walls around him were adorned with dozens of medals and trophies, a testament to his skill and dedication.

But Edwin barely noticed them anymore. For him, the true reward was in the fight itself, in pushing his body to its limits.

Boxing wasn't just a sport for Edwin; it was his passion, his escape, his way of proving himself. He would spend hours in this gym, long after others had gone home, always striving to be better, faster, stronger. As he finished his set, his trainer, Mike, pushed away from the wall and tossed him a water bottle. Edwin caught it deftly, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink. Water trickled down his chin and bare chest, cooling his overheated skin.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Edwin caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes gleamed an unnatural yellow, a sign of his wolf's excitement. It took a few deliberate blinks to get them back to their normal gray.

His wolf always emerged more when he was in the ring. He loved it, craved it, just as much as Edwin did.

For both of them, it was a release.

"Great work tonight, kid," Mike said, clapping him on one sweaty shoulder. "You ready for tomorrow's fight!"

Edwin nodded, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He likely wouldn't sleep tonight. "Ready as I'll ever be," he replied with a lopsided, c**y grin.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

But this wasn't just any fight. It was a big time fight, the kind of match that people bet serious money on. And what made it even more special-what made Edwin's heart race just thinking about it was that his father would finally be attending.

"Is your old man still coming tomorrow?" Mike asked, as if reading Edwin's thoughts.

Edwin nodded, his expression tightening slightly. "Yeah, he said he would be there. Finally

Mike whistled low. "Well, ain't that something. First time, right?"

"First time," Edwin confirmed. He turned back to the punching bag, landing a few more quick jabs for good measure. "That's why I gotta make it count."

His father had never shown much interest in Edwin's boxing career. Oh, he'd paid for the training, bought the equipment, even hired Mike. But he'd never actually come to a match, never shown Edwin that he cared about this passion that consumed so much of his son's life.

The pressure was intense. Edwin wanted-no, needed-to impress his dad. To show what he was capable of. To prove that all this time and effort wasn't wasted.

To prove that he would make a good Alpha someday.

"Don't let it get in your head," Mike warned, seeming to sense Edwin's tension. "You fight your fight, you hear me? Don't go trying to show off or anything"

Edwin nodded, but he wasn't really listening. In his mind, he was already in the ring, imagining the look of pride on his father's face when he won that big trophy. He wondered if his father would put it on the mantle. He doubted he would, but

Chapter 173.

the thought was nice..

The next night came faster than Edwin expected. Before he knew it, he was in the locker room, wrapping his hands and trying to calm the nerves jangling through his system.

"Remember," Mike said, adjusting Edwin's gloves, "stick to the plan. This guy's quick, but he leaves his right side open. see an opening, you take it, but don't force it. Let it come naturally. Conserve your energy and keep your eyes sharp."

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Edwin nodded, bouncing on his toes as the roar of the crowd fibered through from the arena. He could feel his wolf stirring. cager for the fight.

As he made his way to the ring, Edwin scanned the crowd. There, in the front row, sat his father. His face was impassive as always, but he was there. That alone made Edwin's heart swell.

The bell rang, and the fight began. His opponent was young and lean, quick on his feet. But Edwin had trained for this. He dodged and weaved, landing solid hits when he could.

But as the fight wore on, something changed. Edwin could feel his control slipping, his wolf pushing forward, hungry for dominance. He wanted to win, yes, but more than that, he wanted to impress. To dominate.

To show his father what he was truly capable of.

In the third round, he saw his opening. His opponent's guard dropped for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Edwin's fist connected with devastating force, enhanced by his wolf's strength and vigor. He didn't hold back

The crowd roared as his opponent went down. Edwin turned, grinning, seeking out his father's face in the crowd. But, instead of pride, he saw shock. Horror, even, in his father's ashen eyes. Confused, Edwin turned back to face his opponent. And that was when he saw it. His opponent wasn't just knocked out. He was hurt.

Badly.

So badly, in fact, that he didn't move-not even when smelling salts were jammed under his nose and his trainer came careening into the ring, shaking him violently. "Medics!" his trainer cried out, eyes wild. He pointed at Edwin. "You're gonna pay for this, buddy!"

Edwin's eyes widened into saucers. He st**e*

What have I done. What have I done?!

The next few minutes passed in a blur. EMTs rushed into the ring, loading the poor kid onto a stretcher. There was blood, so much blood. Edwin stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had happened. How had he lost control like that?

He turned, looking for his father's face-for some kind of comfort, some kind of familiarity.

But his father had left.

Later, in the quiet of the locker room, Mike tried to comfort him. "These things happen, kid. It's a violent sport. You can't blame yourself."

But Edwin couldn't shake the image of his opponent's crushed face, of the EMTs rushing him out on a stretcher. Nor could he forget the look of disappointment-no, disgust-on his father's face before Edwin had realized what he had done,

"He'll be okay, right?" Edwin asked, his voice trembling.

Mike hesitated, and that pause told Edwin everything he needed to know, "He's alive," Mike finally said "But... It's bad. Edwin You shuttered his eye socket. The doctors... they don't think he'll ever see out of that eye again."

Edwin felt sick. This wasn't what boxing was supposed to be about. It wasn't what he was supposed to be about. He had let his wolf take over, let his desperation to impress his father cloud his judgment. Without a word, he stood and walked out of the locker room.

That night, he made his way to his training room in the basement of his house, to the place that had been his sanctuary for so long. But now it felt tainted.

He looked at the walls, at all those medals and trophies. They meant nothing now. Worse than nothing-they were a reminder of how close he had come to killing someone tonight,

Slowly, methodically, Edwin began to take them down. Mike tried to stop him, but he ignored him. He piled them all into a box, along with his gloves and other gear. When he was done, he locked the door to the training room and walked away.

At that moment, Edwin made a vow to himself: he would never fight again.

And he didn't