(Aria’s POV)

Dawn comes too fast.

I barely sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Liam’s face as he said, I reject you, like he was spitting something bitter out of his mouth.

By the time the first pale light seeps through my tiny window, my bag is packed.

There isn’t much to pack.

A few clothes. Two old books my mother loved. A cracked photo frame with the three of us before the rogue attack took them. A small, smooth stone my father once told me was lucky.

Apparently it’s been on break.

I zip the bag up and take one last look at the room.

The thin mattress. The peeling paint. The small, grimy window.

I used to dream of leaving this place as a victorious warrior, promoted to the Alpha House, my room replaced with something big and sunlit.

Now I’m leaving because they threw me out.

“Time,” a voice calls from the corridor. Flat. Impersonal.

Not even a knock.

I open the door.

Two warriors wait outside. Both in casual clothes, but their posture is all business. One of them—Jace—won’t quite meet my eyes.

“The Alpha said to escort you to the border,” he says.

“Escort,” I repeat. “Such a nice word for exile.”

His jaw tightens.

The other warrior, Milo, shrugs, clearly less bothered. “Could be worse. You could be leaving in a body bag.”

“Wow,” I say. “I feel so much better now.”

Milo grins like he’s done me a favor.

Jace steps forward. “We’re to make sure you don’t cause… trouble.”

“I’ve never caused trouble in my life,” I say. “That’s half the problem.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past them.

No one stops me.

No one says goodbye.

In the kitchen, omegas are already cleaning up from last night’s feast. A few glance up as I pass. One offers a flicker of sympathy. Most look away quickly, like my bad luck might be contagious.

At the main hall, the doors are still closed. I can smell stale alcohol, perfume, and the sour tang of old humiliation under the wood.

I keep walking.

Outside, the morning air is cool and damp, mist curling low over the trees. Birds chatter as if nothing earth-shattering happened last night.

We head down the path that leads away from the pack house, past the training grounds.

I pause for half a second, staring at the empty field.

This is where I tried, again and again, to summon a wolf that refused to answer.

Where I was laughed at. Taunted. Pushed down.

Where I felt a presence last night, angry and huge, slamming against a door that wouldn’t break.

My chest tightens.

“Keep moving,” Milo says. “We’re not here for a memory tour.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glare.

I keep moving.

The forest shifts as we walk. The well-worn paths give way to quieter trails, less used. The trees grow thicker, older. The air smells sharper, like pine and distance.

“The Alpha is being generous, you know,” Milo comments. “Most packs wouldn’t bother with an escort for a rejected wolfless. They’d just toss you out of the gate and lock it.”

“Is that your way of saying I should be grateful?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Just telling the truth.”

Jace shoots him a look. “Enough.”

We fall into silence.

The border isn’t a visible line in the dirt, but every wolf knows where it is. The trees thin out ahead, giving way to a narrow road that leads towards the human town.

My heart starts pounding as we approach.

This is it.

Once I cross, I’m not Nightfall anymore.

No pack link. No territory. No home, even if it was never much of one.

“Here,” Jace says quietly when we reach the last line of trees. “This is far enough.”

I stop.

The road stretches ahead, empty and grey, cutting through the mist like a scar.

“So,” I say. “Do I get a farewell speech? A plaque? A ‘thanks for being such a convenient punching bag all these years’ medal?”

Milo snorts.

Jace winces. “Aria…”

“Save it,” I cut in.

If he says something that sounds like pity, I might actually cry.

I refuse to give this place my tears.

“Any instructions for your ex-mate?” I ask instead, voice sweet. “Want me to tell Liam anything if I ever see him again? ‘Thanks for the public character assassination’ maybe?”

Milo shifts uncomfortably. “Watch it.”

“Why?” I ask. “What’s he going to do? Reject me twice?”

Jace scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, it’s done. You just need to… move on. Build a life somewhere else.”

“Right,” I say. “I’ll just pop into town and pick up a nice little ‘Life Starter Pack’—job, house, fully functioning wolf, maybe a mate who doesn’t hate my existence.”

Milo mutters something under his breath about me being dramatic.

I ignore him.

Instead, I take a step forward.

The air tingles as I cross the invisible line that marks the border.

There’s no physical barrier. No fence. No wall.

Just a sudden, sharp sense of… absence.

Like walking out of a warm room into a cold one.

The background hum I never really noticed before goes quiet.

No faint distant awareness of other wolves. No soft buzz of pack energy in the back of my mind.

Silence.

I swallow.

This is what alone feels like.

“By order of Alpha Blackwood,” Jace says formally behind me, “you are no longer a member of Nightfall Pack. You are barred from this territory unless expressly invited by the Alpha.”

I turn.

The two warriors stand just inside the border, the forest behind them.

Home.

Past tense.

Something hurts in my chest, sharp and sudden.

“Got it,” I say.

We stare at each other for a moment.

Jace opens his mouth like he wants to say something else.

Then he shuts it.

“Take care of yourself, Aria,” he says finally.

Milo gives me a half-hearted salute. “Try not to get eaten by rogues.”

“Try not to trip over your ego,” I shoot back automatically.

He smirks.

They turn and disappear into the trees, swallowed up by the shadows.

I stand on the road, alone, listening as their footsteps fade.

That’s it.

Years of my life, wiped out in under ten minutes.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The human town is a few miles away. I could walk there, find some cheap room, pick up odd jobs. Humans won’t care that I have no wolf. They’ll just think I’m another broke girl with bad luck.

It would be simple.

Boring.

Safe.

I take one step forward.

Headlights wash over me.

I freeze.

A low purr of an engine grows louder, cutting through the morning quiet. A sleek black car emerges from the mist, gliding down the road like some kind of predator cloaked in polished metal.

It slows as it nears me.

My heart trips over itself.

Maybe it’s a random human on their way to work.

Maybe it’s somebody lost.

Maybe this is how horror stories start.

The car stops a few meters away.

For a second, nothing happens.

Then the back door swings open, smooth and silent.

A man steps out.

I recognize him from pack rumors before my brain even catches up with my eyes.

Tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, perfectly cut suit that doesn’t belong this close to the forest. Black hair a little too long, like he doesn’t care enough to keep it as neat as his younger brother’s. Sharp jaw. Mouth set in a hard line.

Eyes like winter.

Damien Blackwood.

Liam’s older brother.

The one who left the pack years ago, choosing the human world and its money over wolf politics.

The one Liam never talks about.

The one I’ve only seen once, from a distance, when I was fourteen and hiding in a crowd as he argued with the Alpha outside the pack house, his voice low and lethal.

Now he’s standing on the road in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking at me like he just found something interesting on the side of the road.

The scent that hits me is familiar and not.

Blackwood.

But colder. Sharper. Edged with city and power and something electric.

My battered, still-aching heart stutters for a completely different reason.

“Aria Hale,” he says.

His voice is deep, smooth, carrying easily in the morning air.

He doesn’t ask if that’s my name.

He already knows.

My fingers tighten on the strap of my bag.

“Damien,” I say before I can stop myself.

Because what do you call a man like this? Mr Blackwood sounds too small. Sir would kill me on the spot.

One dark brow lifts. “We’re on first-name terms already?”

Heat crawls up my neck.

“I—sorry. I mean—why are you here?”

“Straight to the point.” He nods slightly. “Good. Saves us both time.”

He glances past me, eyes skimming the tree line, the invisible border.

“Your escort left you,” he observes. “Efficient.”

“I think ‘dumped’ is the word you’re looking for.”

His gaze returns to me.

Up close, there’s something… dangerous about him. Not in the raw, bright way Liam’s power feels. Liam is a bonfire everyone is drawn to.

Damien is a black hole.

Quiet.

Deadly.

“You were banished,” he says. Not a question.

“News travels fast,” I mutter.

“Some decisions echo,” he replies. “Especially when they’re made loudly in a room full of people who can’t keep secrets.”

I flinch.

He saw.

Or at least, he heard.

Of course he did.

A rejected mate is gossip crack.

“So?” I fold my arms, even though I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig without breaking a sweat. “Are you here to join the laughter? Get a good look at the pathetic wolfless reject before you head back to your skyscrapers?”

One corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s amused.

“Do you always greet strangers this politely?” he asks.

“You’re not a stranger,” I say before my brain can throw up a stop sign. “You’re the Blackwood who left.”

Silence stretches.

A bird chirps somewhere in the trees, oblivious.

“That’s one way to describe it,” he says finally. “Another is: the Blackwood who didn’t want to rot under someone else’s thumb.”

His gaze sharpens.

“For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I don’t find your humiliation particularly entertaining.”

“Wow,” I say. “What a relief. I was so worried about your opinion.”

His eyes narrow the tiniest bit.

Not angry.

Interested.

Like I’m a problem he’s trying to solve in his head.

“Get in the car, Aria,” he says.

I blink.

“What?”

He gestures lazily to the open door. The interior glints with black leather and the faint promise of warmth.

“It’s cold,” he says. “You’re shaking. You have nowhere to go. Get in the car.”

My spine stiffens.

“My exile, my problem,” I say. “I don’t need a ride from a man whose brother just set me on fire in public.”

His jaw ticks at the mention of Liam, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion.

“Liam is many things,” he says. “Subtle is not one of them.”

“That’s one way to say ‘massive jerk.’”

The ghost of a smile brushes his lips and vanishes.

“I’m not here on his behalf,” Damien says.

“Then why are you here?” I demand. “Did you just happen to be driving by the exact border I was dumped at, at the exact time I was dumped, in the exact terrifying luxury car I would least expect to see next to a pine tree?”

His eyes glint.

“No,” he says. “I rarely ‘happen’ anywhere.”

He takes a step closer.

He doesn’t touch me, but his presence hits like a wave.

My wolf—distant, locked, sulking—suddenly stirs.

Not like with Liam.

That was an explosion. A wild, overwhelming pull.

This is different.

A low, curious rumble, like a massive creature turning its head in the dark.

What is that?

Who is that?

Mine?

Not mine?

Confused.

Same, girl.

Same.

Damien’s gaze flickers, like he’s sensing something too.

Interesting.

He leans in just enough that only I can hear the next words.

“I’m here,” he says softly, “because my brother is an idiot.”

I blink.

“That’s… not exactly breaking news.”

“And because,” he continues, as if I didn’t speak, “the pack just dumped something very valuable at the edge of its territory.”

My laugh comes out brittle. “Me? Valuable? Did you hit your head on the way here?”

“Not to them,” he says. “To me.”

The words land with more force than they should.

I suddenly feel very aware of my wrinkled clothes, my puffy eyes, the faint tremble in my hands.

“What do you want?” I ask, voice low.

He straightens, the warmth from a second ago gone, replaced by cool detachment.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” he says. “You need somewhere to stay, money, protection from any rogues or… petty pack revenge. I need…”

He pauses.

For a moment, something flickers across his face—something sharp and hungry and old.

Then it’s gone.

“I need someone your brother underestimated,” he finishes calmly. “Someone with a reason to hate him as much as I do.”

A shiver slides down my spine.

He’s offering me safety.

He’s also offering me a war.

“Come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll give you a home. I’ll teach you to defend yourself. And one day, if you still want it…”

His eyes burn into mine.

“I’ll help you make them all regret what they did to you.”

The forest seems to hold its breath.

The human town is still behind me.

Normal. Small. Probably full of boring jobs and people who don’t know what a mate bond is.

In front of me stands a Blackwood with winter in his eyes and a promise of power on his tongue.

Behind me lies a pack that chose to laugh instead of help.

My wolf paces behind the locked door, restless.

Hungry.

Choose.

“I don’t trust you,” I say.

“Good,” Damien replies. “You shouldn’t.”

He inclines his head toward the car.

“Get in anyway.”

I stare at him.

At the trees.

At the empty road.

At my own shaking hands.

Then I square my shoulders, sling my bag higher, and step toward the open door.

“If I end up dead in a ditch,” I mutter as I slide into the leather seat, “I’m haunting you.”

Damien’s mouth curves, the barest hint of a smile.

“We’ll try to avoid that,” he says.

He closes the door with a soft click.

As the car pulls away from the border, Nightfall Pack disappears in the rearview mirror.

I don’t know where I’m going.

I don’t know what he really wants.

But I know one thing with bone-deep certainty:

For the first time in my life, I am not walking away from a place that doesn’t want me.

I’m driving toward something.

I just don’t realize yet that the something is a cold billionaire with a crown he doesn’t wear, a kingdom in the shadows… and a claim on my fate that will change everything.

(Aria's POV)

The car ride from the border feels unreal - too smooth, too quiet, too deliberate. Damien Blackwood sits across from me like a storm disguised in a suit, scrolling through his phone as if he didn't just rescue his brother's rejected mate from exile.

I can't stop staring out the window. Forest turns into road. Road becomes small human buildings. Then everything explodes upward into tall towers and glittering glass.

"Are you always this... decisive?" I ask.

Damien doesn't look up. "I dislike wasted time."

Right. Of course he does.

The city grows around us - tall, sharp, intimidating. I swallow. The tallest building streaking the sky looks like it was built to house secrets. And men like him.

We descend into an underground parking level where the lighting is bright enough to hurt. No dirt. No oil stains. The kind of place where even shadows behave.

He steps out first. "Come."

I follow him to a private elevator that has no buttons. Just a glowing panel. He presses his thumb against it, and the doors slide shut, trapping us together in a silence that's somehow louder than wolf howls.

The elevator shoots upward.

My stomach drops. "How many floors?"

"The top."

Of course.

When the doors open, we step into a private landing - dark wood, soft lighting, one massive door. No neighbors. No noise. Just Blackwood territory in skyscraper form.

Damien unlocks the door with another thumbprint. When it opens, I forget how to breathe.

The penthouse is enormous, clean, impossibly elegant. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the entire far wall, spilling sunlight onto pale stone floors. The city sprawls below like a glittering map. A huge grey sectional couch angles toward a modern fireplace. Plants in black pots soften the edges.

It's beautiful.

Cold.

And nothing like me.

"Shoes," a sharp voice snaps.

I jump. A woman in her forties stands near the kitchen entrance, hair in a tight bun, expression sharper than broken glass.

"Off," she says. "Now."

I yank my boots off immediately. She eyes my socks. There's a hole in one toe. Perfect.

Damien gestures toward her. "This is Marta. She manages the household."

Manages. Like a general manages an army.

Marta studies me like she's sizing up a new recruit. "So this is her."

Aria Hale: her.

My cheeks heat. "Aria. That's my name."

"Good." She nods. "We'll use it."

"What exactly did you tell her about me?" I murmur to Damien.

He ignores that. "Marta will show you the basics."

"Basics?" I repeat.

"Try not to break anything," Marta says. "Everything in here is worth more than you."

I blink. "I... don't know whether to be insulted or impressed."

"Both," she says.

She marches toward the kitchen. I follow because she radiates the kind of energy that makes wolves obey.

The kitchen is sleek: marble counters, steel appliances, perfect organization. She places a plate in front of me - toast, eggs, avocado slices.

My stomach growls so loud she raises an eyebrow.

"Eat," she orders. "You look like someone who's been living on bad decisions and air."

I shovel in food before dignity catches up.

When I finish, she hands me water. "Tour."

We move through the penthouse. Living room. Silent hallways. A study with glass walls and more screens than the Alpha's war room. A laundry room that looks like it was designed for NASA.

Finally, she stops at a door and pushes it open.

"Guest room," she says.

It's basically a small apartment: massive bed, soft carpet, a wall of windows, a walk-in closet.

Inside the closet are clothes.

Clothes in my size.

"How did-?"

"Eyes," Damien says from behind us, making me jump. "And tailors."

Marta gestures toward the bathroom. "Shower has instructions. Follow them unless you want to flood the room."

"Has that happened before?"

"Twice."

I decide not to ask who.

Damien steps forward. "Rest. Shower. Then we talk."

He leaves without waiting for a response.

I shower. The hot water feels sinful after years of freezing pack bathroom temperatures. Steam fills the room. For one brief moment, something inside me stirs. A flash of silver fur. Gold eyes. A low rumble.

My wolf.

The sealed door in my mind shakes, cracks, then stills.

Not ready yet.

When I finish, I slip into soft leggings and a clean T-shirt. The fabric hugs me like comfort itself - a reminder that I am not in the pack anymore. I am somewhere entirely different.

I find Damien in the living area, framed by the city beyond the windows. He has rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. He looks... less like an Alpha and more like a man who knows exactly how to command a boardroom and a battlefield.

"Sit," he says.

I sit.

He remains standing, hands in his pockets, studying me like I'm a puzzle piece that belongs somewhere specific.

"Let's establish the rules," he says.

My stomach tightens. "Rules?"

"Yes." He walks closer. "Rule one: You do not leave this building without my permission."

I stiffen. "Is that... a prison?"

"It's protection," he corrects. "You're vulnerable. The pack may regret their actions. Rogues may smell weakness. Humans are unpredictable." His eyes lock on mine. "You stay where I can keep you alive."

The bluntness makes my throat close.

"Fine," I say softly. "Next?"

"Rule two: No contact with Nightfall Pack. Especially Liam."

My jaw clenches. "I don't want to talk to him."

"Good," Damien says. "Let him drown in the consequences of his stupidity."

A sharp, involuntary shiver runs down my spine at the way he says it - cold, almost satisfied.

"Rule three," he continues. "You tell me immediately if anything unusual happens with your wolf."

My pulse jumps. "Why do you think something will happen?"

"Because you should have collapsed after that rejection." His voice is calm but certain. "Instead, you walked out of the forest, boarded my car, and ate a full meal."

"Maybe I'm numb."

"No." He sits across from me. "Your wolf is sealed. Hidden. But not gone. Last night cracked her cage."

Heat spreads through my chest - a mix of fear and relief and something like awakening.

"Rule four," he says, "you train with me. Properly. No more mockery from boys who don't know real strength."

I swallow. "What kind of training?"

"Mental first," he says. "Then physical. Control. Strength. Command."

"Command?" I echo.

His eyes narrow like he's seeing something in me I can't yet feel. "You have power, Aria. More than you know. And power without control is a threat - to you and everyone around you."

He stands. "Training starts tomorrow at six."

"Six in the morning?" I ask, horrified.

"Welcome to improvement."

I groan. He smirks - barely, but enough.

He steps toward the hallway. "Rest now. You'll need it."

Before he disappears into the study, he looks back.

"And Aria?"

"Yes?"

"You are not weak," he says quietly. "But if you insist on acting like you are, this city will eat you alive."

I feel the words settle deep - somewhere my wolf can hear.

When he leaves, I sit there for a long moment, staring at the skyline.

Everything I knew is behind me. Everything unknown is ahead.

And strangely?

For the first time since Liam's rejection shattered me, the future doesn't feel like a threat.

It feels like a challenge.

And I'm ready to rise to it.

(Aria’s POV)

I don’t mean to fall asleep.

I lie down “just for a minute” to test the bed and wake up hours later, disoriented.

The sky outside is darker now, streaked with orange where the sun is starting to sink. City lights blink on, one by one.

For a blissful half second, I forget where I am.

Then the memory hits—the ceremony, the rejection, the border, Damien.

My chest tightens.

I swing my legs out of bed, wincing at how stiff I feel. Apparently, emotional devastation is a full-body workout.

A faint murmur drifts from the main living area—Marta talking to someone, the soft clink of dishes.

I follow the smell of food.

Dinner is simple but good—rice, vegetables, grilled chicken with spices I don’t recognize. Marta hands me a plate without comment and nods toward the couch.

“Eat. Then you talk to him,” she says.

“Him who?”

She gives me a look.

Right.

Damien.

I sit and pick at my food, watching the city below. Humans drive home from work, crowd into buses, laugh on sidewalks. They have problems—bills, bosses, relationships—but none of them know what it feels like to have your soul ripped in half in front of a room full of people.

Lucky.

The study door opens.

Damien steps out, jacket off now, white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. There’s ink on one of his forearms—a dark, intricate design that disappears under the cuff.

I tear my eyes away before I can stare.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“As well as anyone can after their entire life explodes,” I say.

“Good,” he replies.

I blink. “That’s your definition of good?”

“You slept,” he says. “Your body is not shutting down. We can work with that.”

In a weird way, it’s reassuring.

“So,” I say, setting my plate down. “You mentioned training. Is this like pack training? Running laps, push-ups, getting yelled at by someone with a whistle?”

“No whistles,” he says. “No group humiliation. Just you, me, and a few basic principles.”

“Principles like what?”

He sits in the chair opposite again.

“Principle one,” he says. “You are not weak. You are… blocked.”

“Blocked is just a polite word for useless,” I mutter.

“Blocked,” he repeats, ignoring me, “means power with no outlet. Pressure with no valve. Eventually, that explodes. In your case, probably at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way.”

A chill skates across my skin.

“I’ve waited eighteen years with nothing,” I say. “Why would anything suddenly change now?”

His gaze flickers.

“Because you were pushed to your breaking point,” he says. “Rejection. Exile. That kind of shock shakes loose old seals. I felt it when I arrived at the border.”

“You… felt me?” I ask, wary.

“Your wolf,” he corrects. “Raging behind a wall. That kind of rage doesn’t come from something small.”

My mind flashes back to the shower—those massive paws, those eyes.

Goosebumps prickle along my arms.

“Principle two,” he continues. “Fear is information. Not a master. You can acknowledge it without obeying it.”

“I’ve been obeying fear my entire life,” I admit.

“Then we unlearn that,” he says simply.

“That easy?”

“Nothing about this is easy,” he says. “But it is simple. You do the work, or you don’t. You decide whether you remain the girl the pack threw away… or become something they’ll beg not to anger.”

The part of me that’s petty, wounded, and furious at Liam purrs at that.

“Principle three,” he adds, “you don’t have to forgive anyone to move forward. You just have to stop letting them live in your head rent-free.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Feels like Liam should pay rent. He’s occupying prime real estate.”

A ghost of a smile touches Damien’s mouth and vanishes.

“Tomorrow at six,” he says. “We start with your mind.”

“My mind?” I echo. “Not, like, punching bags?”

“You can’t control a wolf you’re afraid to face,” he says. “Tonight, you rest. You will likely have nightmares. If you do, remember where you are. This building is secure. No one will touch you unless I allow it.”

Again with the unless I allow it.

Comforting.

Also mildly terrifying.

“What about you?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Do you sleep?”

He tilts his head. “Sometimes.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

His eyes go distant for half a second.

Then the shutters slam down.

“That’s not relevant to your training,” he says.

Which is not a no.

Before I can push, Marta appears, wiping her hands on a towel.

“If you’re done discussing trauma bonding,” she says crisply, “the girl needs rest.”

I blink. “Trauma—”

“It’s a term,” she says. “Look it up. Later. For now, bed.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” she cuts in. “You’ve just severed a mate bond. Even for a so-called weak wolf, that takes a toll. If you don’t sleep, your first lesson will be you fainting on the floor. I don’t feel like mopping you up.”

Damien doesn’t argue.

“Listen to her,” he says. “She’s usually right.”

“Usually?” Marta sniffs. “Try always.”

I stand, suddenly exhausted again.

At my door, I hesitate.

“What if I wake up and this is all gone?” I ask. “The bed. The shower. The view. You. What if they change their mind and drag me back?”

“No one comes in without my knowledge,” Damien says calmly. “Nightfall’s Alpha doesn’t have the reach he thinks he does.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am,” he says. “Sleep, Aria. When you wake, we make sure your nightmares don’t own you.”

It’s such an odd promise that I nod without thinking.

In bed, I stare at the ceiling for a long time.

The city hums below.

My chest aches.

Eventually, I drift off.

The nightmares come, as promised.

I’m back in the hall, Liam’s voice echoing as he rejects me, the pack’s laughter swelling. Except this time, the pain doesn’t stop. It builds and builds until I’m sure my body will rip apart.

I try to scream and no sound comes out.

Then the dream shifts.

I’m in the forest at the border.

The sky is red. The trees are on fire. Wolves made of shadow and smoke circle me, eyes glowing, teeth bared.

Run, my mind yells.

I can’t move.

My feet are rooted.

The shadow-wolves leap—

—and something huge slams into them from the side.

A wolf.

My wolf.

Massive. Silver fur tipped in black. Eyes glowing gold with fury.

She rips shadow apart like paper, snarling, claws flashing.

When the last shadow falls, she turns to me.

We stare at each other.

You took long enough, I say in the dream, though my mouth doesn’t move.

You took long enough, she replies, voice a deep vibration in my bones. You let them call us weak.

I didn’t have a choice, I think.

You always have a choice, she says. You just didn’t like the cost.

Her eyes soften.

Now you’ve paid it.

She steps closer, pressing her massive forehead to mine.

Heat pours through me. Strength. Rage. Something like love.

Her presence wraps around me like armor.

Then she pulls back.

Wake up, she growls. He’s waiting.

I jerk awake, heart pounding, sweat cooling on my skin.

Sunlight filters through the curtains, pale and early.

For a moment, I lie there, clutching the sheets.

Then I realize two things:

One, my headache is gone.

Two, when I reach inward, the door in my mind is still there—but the lock is cracked.

Not open.

Not yet.

But damaged.

Breakable.

“Okay,” I whisper into the quiet room. “Okay.”

I swing my legs out of bed, adrenaline buzzing under my skin.

If Damien Blackwood wants to start training at six, fine.

For the first time, I’m ready to meet him halfway.

Because buried under the grief and anger, a new truth settles in my chest like a burning coal:

I am not the weak girl they threw away.

I am the wolf they should have been afraid of.

And with Damien’s help—or in spite of it—I’m going to make sure they learn that the hard way.