The morning broke gray and sharp, mist crawling between the cabins like restless spirits. I woke to the sound of voices drifting from outside, clipped, urgent, heavy with the kind of weight that made my chest tighten even before I understood the words.

  Thorne’s voice carried first, low but commanding. Brennar’s followed, rougher, tinged with impatience. Riven added sharp interjections, like the edge of a blade sliding between them. Even Rowan, who seemed softer in tone yesterday, sounded strained.

  War.

  The word itself seemed to hang in the fog, even if none of them had spoken it aloud yet.

  How they could even fathom to discuss the attack before coffee was beyond me.

  I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders, Bagel hopping onto my lap with a chirp of complaint at being jostled awake. Her golden eyes cut toward the door as if she, too, sensed the tension bleeding in through the walls.

  “You think they’ll hear me if I ask them to keep it down?” I whispered to her.

  Bagel answered with a long, drawn-out mrrow that could have meant absolutely not, idiot or feed me first. With her, it was probably both.

  I slid off the bed, padded to the door, and pushed it open a crack.

  The men stood in a loose semicircle in the clearing. Thorne had his arms crossed, his shoulders set like stone, while Brennar gestured wide, frustration tightening the corners of his mouth. Rowan shifted from foot to foot, nervous energy flickering in his every movement, and Riven leaned against a post, silent now but visibly simmering. Grabber stood among them, his eyes shifting between them looking bored, until his eyes landed on me.

  “…can’t defend against them with half-trained sentries and a weak outer perimenter,” Brennar was saying. “We need allies, and we needed them yesterday.”

  “Send word to the Red Fang,” Rowan offered quickly, though his voice trembled. “They still owe us for the river border truce -”

  “They may not come,” Thorne cut in, his tone final. “We still don’t know who exactly we are up against. If it's the vampires, they’ll be here no matter what. But if it's the council, they will most likely be too intimidated to come. Their reach is long, and anyone who stands with us paints a target on their back.”

  Riven pushed away from the post, stepping closer, eyes burning. “Then we find allies who don’t give a damn about targets. The ones who’ve already burned their bridges with both the council and the vampires. They’ll fight, if only for the chance to spill blood. Everyone has an enemy - we just need to figure out who is behind this, and then we need to start forming some alliances.”

  Brennar gave him a sidelong look. “And when they decide we’re more trouble than we’re worth? When they turn those teeth on us instead?”

  The tension pulled tighter, straining the air until it nearly snapped. My palms itched, useless at my sides. They were already carving strategies, speaking names I didn’t know, imagining alliances I couldn’t picture. I felt like an intruder even listening.

  Bagel, however, had no such qualms. She walked through the crack in the door, tail flicking, and let out a piercing yowl that cut through the debate like a blade.

  All five men turned.

  For a heartbeat, silence.

  Then Rowan let out a laugh, sharp and startled. “Looks like the little queen has spoken.”

  I stepped sheepishly out onto the porch, tugging my cloak tighter. “Sorry. She… doesn’t like being left out of the conversation.”

  Grabber’s mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile I’d ever seen from him. “Maybe we should start taking her advice. Might be less trouble than yours.”

  Riven rolled his eyes, though the tension in his jaw eased a fraction. Thorne said nothing, but his gaze lingered on me, unreadable as always.

  Bagel flicked her tail and hopped straight into Brennar’s arms as if to prove her importance. He caught her with surprising ease, grunting when she immediately began to knead her claws into his shirt.

  “Fine,” he muttered, stroking her absentmindedly. “The cat approves. Let’s get back to it.”

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  They argued for another hour, fortifications, alliances, recruitment. I listened from the steps, Bagel purring smugly in Brennar’s arms while Rowan occasionally threw me a sympathetic glance as though to say I know, it’s exhausting listening to them too.

  By the time they finally fell into a fragile agreement, which was strengthening the outer perimeter first, sending quiet feelers toward potential allies, and ramping up training immediately, my head was pounding. But there was something grounding, too, about watching them work. Their voices never fully softened, but beneath the conflict I sensed a current of loyalty stronger than any disagreement. They were planning for survival. For each other.

  And, I realized with a jolt, for me.

  Thorne finally turned toward me, his dark eyes steady as he pulled me away from my mind. “You’re coming with me.”

  I blinked, rising quickly. “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Thorne didn’t explain, just set a steady pace through the pack as we walked away from Grabber and Riven, who seemed content to continue studying maps and discussing plans. Thorne’s stride was long, deliberate and I had to hurry to keep close, my cloak tugged by the damp morning wind. Brennar and Rowan trailed just behind us, speaking low to each other, their laughter rolling out in occasional bursts that almost felt out of place in the grim air.

  We passed cabins where people in human and wolf form worked to repair fencing, sharpen weapons, and stack supplies. More than one pair of eyes followed me, curious, suspicious, some openly narrowed. I kept my chin up, but my heart drummed hard in my chest.

  “They’ll get used to you,” Rowan murmured when he caught my glance. His smile was quick, boyish, though there was something steady behind it too. “Eventually.”

  “Or they won’t,” Brennar added flatly, though his tone held no cruelty. “But either way, you’ll outlast the stares.”

  I wanted to ask how he could be so sure, but Thorne stopped abruptly, and I nearly collided with him. We’d reached a wide clearing at the edge of the settlement. Training dummies stood in uneven rows, some battered into ruin, others still upright and waiting for punishment. Wooden weapons lay stacked to the side, dulled from overuse.

  The place smelled of sweat, soil, and iron.

  “Training starts now. Brennar and Rowan will train you today, while I go meet some of the border guards.” Thorne said simply, gesturing toward the field.

  My stomach dropped. “Training? As in…?”

  “Evasion. Defense.” His gaze swept over me, sharp as a blade. “You don’t have to become a fighter. But you do have to learn how not to die if you get separated from one of us for a moment.”

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  It began with running drills.

  Brennar barked the orders, and Rowan happily joined in, their voices rising and overlapping until I was half-laughing, half-gasping for air.

  “Faster, Liora! My grandmother could outrun you and she’s been dead ten years!” Brennar shouted, his grin betraying the roughness of his words.

  Rowan jogged alongside me, cheerful as a spring breeze. “Ignore him, you’re doing fine. But also, if you slow down again, he’s going to make you carry me on your back for the next lap.”

  I groaned and forced my legs to move faster, though the uneven ground threatened to trip me at every turn. Bagel, naturally, had decided that she would take part in the exercise too, sprinting ahead, then waiting until I stumbled close before darting off again with an infuriating flick of her tail.

  “She’s mocking me,” I wheezed.

  “She seems to mock everyone,” Rowan replied helpfully.

  Brennar barked a laugh. “The cat’s already twice as useful as you, Liora.”

  By the third lap, I collapsed onto the grass, gulping down air as my chest burned. Rowan sat cross-legged beside me, barely winded, while Brennar paced in front of us with his hands on his hips like a drill sergeant who’d found his new favorite victim.

  “You’ll thank me when you don’t die in the first five minutes of a fight,” Brennar said.

  “Or,” Rowan countered lightly, “she’ll kill you in your sleep for making her run so much.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I muttered, lying flat on my back.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  The next lesson was evasion. Rowan tossed me a wooden staff, which I fumbled to catch, and Brennar circled me like a predator sizing up prey.

  “Rule one: don’t freeze,” Brennar said. “Rule two: don’t wait for permission. If someone comes at you, you move. Even if it’s ugly. Since you’re a beginner, you’ll be the only one with a staff.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, he lunged.

  I shrieked and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. The staff clattered uselessly from my hands. Rowan doubled over laughing while Brennar straightened with a long-suffering sigh.

  “Hopeless,” he said, though his eyes gleamed with something closer to amusement than frustration.

  “Not hopeless,” Rowan protested, still chuckling. He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You just need the right teacher.”

  That was when Riven stepped into the clearing.

  His presence immediately shifted the air. Where Brennar’s energy was loud and Rowan’s playful, Riven’s was sharp, focused, like a drawn bowstring. His eyes locked onto me, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.

  “Switch,” he said simply.

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  Brennar smirked, tossing the staff back toward me. “Good luck, Liora.” He and Rowan turned around to leave, with Rowan giving me one last grin still as though this were all some kind of delightful spectacle.

  Riven moved closer, slow, deliberate. “Pick it up.”

  I swallowed, bent, and grabbed the staff. It felt clumsy in my hands, heavy in a way that had nothing to do with its weight.

  “Hold it tighter,” he instructed, his voice low. He stepped behind me, his hands brushing mine as he corrected my grip. Heat flared through me at the contact, sharp and unexpected.

  I stiffened, but he didn’t move away. His chest brushed lightly against my back as he adjusted the angle of my arms.

  “Better,” he murmured.

  I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat. “And if I -”

  Before I could finish, he moved, quick as lightning. His foot nudged mine, shifting my balance, and in the same motion he brought his hand toward my shoulder in a feint. Instinct made me jerk sideways, clumsy but fast enough to avoid the touch.

  “Good,” he said, and this time I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

  The drill continued. He attacked in small, sudden motions, each one forcing me to react, to stumble or spin, to keep moving even when I had no idea what I was doing. His hands corrected me again and again, steady and unyielding, until sweat slicked my palms and my breaths came ragged.

  And then, too fast for me to block, he swept my legs from under me.

  I landed flat on my back, the breath punched out of my lungs.

  Riven dropped down over me, one hand braced against the ground near my head, the other catching the staff before it clattered away. His face hovered close, his breath brushing warm against my cheek.

  “You froze,” he said quietly.

  I swallowed hard, heat rushing through me for reasons that had very little to do with training. “You, you cheated.”

  A shadow of a grin touched his lips. “Then don’t give me the chance to.”

  Riven didn’t move right away. His gaze lingered on mine, steady, unreadable, but the closeness of him made my thoughts scatter. His hair brushed forward, dark strands catching the light, and I had the dizzy, ridiculous thought that if I just tilted my head a little,

  I forced myself to exhale.

  “Okay,” I rasped, shoving at the staff still caught between us. “Lesson learned. Don’t freeze.”

  For a heartbeat longer, he didn’t move. Then, as if some unspoken thread snapped, Riven pushed smoothly to his feet and offered me a hand. His grip was strong, calloused, and he pulled me upright with almost no effort.

  “Again, and try actually swinging that staff at some point.” He said simply.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  The next hour blurred into sweat and aching muscles. Riven was relentless, each feint faster than the last, each correction sharper. Yet there was a strange gentleness hidden in it too, the way his hand steadied me when I stumbled, the rare flicker of approval when I reacted quickly enough to dodge.

  By the time he finally called a stop, my limbs shook with exhaustion. I collapsed onto the grass, clutching the staff like a lifeline. Bagel immediately padded over to sit on my stomach, as if claiming victory herself.

  Riven stood watching me with his arms folded, his sharp gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. When we made eye contact, I caught it again, that faint curve of his mouth, the shadow of a smile meant only for me, and he gave me one wink I looked away.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  The men insisted on food after training.

  We gathered near the pack hall, where smoke curled from the chimney and the scent of roasted meat drifted into the night air. My body ached in ways I hadn’t thought possible, but warmth unfurled in my chest as I followed them inside.

  The hall was loud with laughter and the scrape of chairs, crowded tables packed with men still smelling faintly of sweat and forest. Conversations overlapped, snatches of teasing, stories, boasts. A few heads turned when I entered, eyes tracking me for a moment before shifting back to their meals. I tried to ignore the sudden awareness prickling down my spine.

  Grabber piled a plate high and shoved it into my hands. “Eat. You’ll need it if you plan to keep up tomorrow.”

  Thorne led the way toward an empty table near the back, with Grabber and Riven close behind. I followed, weaving between benches until we claimed a corner that felt a little quieter, a little safer.

  Thorne snagged a piece of bread from my plate before I could protest, his grin infuriatingly bright. “Sharing is bonding, Liora.”

  “You mean stealing,” I said dryly.

  He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between us, there’s not much difference.”

  I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, small but genuine.

  The sound drew a few glances from nearby tables, curious more than unkind, and suddenly I was aware again of how out of place I must have looked among them.

  When I caught a man’s eye who never even seemed to blink as he stared at me, I muttered, half under my breath, “Do they all stare this much?”

  Riven snorted. “Of course. You’re the only female in the pack right now. They’ll get used to it.”

  Bagel perched on the table, batting at a bone until Grabber distracted her with scraps. Watching the massive man gently coax my spoiled cat into purring felt so absurdly normal that my chest tightened with something I didn’t want to name.

  For the first time since stepping into this world, the fear that had clung to me like a second skin loosened. Just a little.

  After the plates had been emptied and we had made our way back to our cabin, we gathered around a fire that Thorne lit. As the fire burned, Grabber leaned back in his chair, studying me with a look that was half amusement, half approval.

  “You’ve got grit, Liora,” he said. “Most would’ve quit halfway through today.”

  I flushed at the unexpected praise. “Or maybe I’m just too stubborn to quit.”

  His smile widened. “That too. Stubbornness will get you farther than skill, sometimes.”

  Thorne nudged my shoulder playfully. “Especially around here. Trust me, you’ll fit in better than you think.”

  Their words lingered, warmer than I wanted to admit.

  And though Riven stayed silent, when my gaze found his across the firelight, his eyes softened in a way that made my stomach flip.

  By the time the fire burned low, my eyelids felt like lead. The warmth of food, laughter, and the steady hum of voices lulled me into something dangerously close to comfort. Bagel had curled up against Grabber’s arm as though he were hers now, purring like she’d never doubted it. Grabber scratched her ears absentmindedly, grinning at me as if daring me to challenge the new alliance he’d formed. Thorne leaned forward with his chin propped on his hand, eyes sparkling with the kind of easy amusement I wasn’t used to. Riven sat at the edge of the firelight, quiet as always, but every so often I caught his gaze on me, unreadable and steady in a way that made the air feel heavier.

  It was strange. A day ago, I’d been sure this pack was a threat, every wolf a danger waiting to snap its teeth. Now, though, I sat among them with sore muscles and a full belly, and something softer than fear had begun to take root. Not trust. Not yet. But the possibility of it.

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  I woke stiff and sore, with Bagel sprawled across my stomach like a stone. Morning sunlight slipped through the shutters, warm on my face. Voices outside told me the pack was already stirring, and before I could talk myself into rolling over and pretending to still be asleep, a knock rattled the door.

  “Up and out, stubborn one,” Brennar’s voice called, cheerful in a way that made me groan. “Training doesn’t wait for sore muscles.”

  I dragged myself up, earning a grumpy meow from Bagel as she slid to the blankets. When I stumbled through the cabin I didn’t even notice that lack of men in it. As I walked out the door, blinking against the sun, Brennar was waiting with that infuriating grin. Rowan stood at his side, tossing a stick in the air and catching it like this was all some game.

  “Morning,” Rowan said brightly. “Sleep well? Dream of your mates?”

  My cheeks heated instantly. “In their dreams,” I muttered, brushing past him.

  He laughed, falling into step beside me. “Well, maybe you can daydream about them instead. We are going to deliver you to them for your training.”

  Riven was already waiting at the training ground, arms folded, eyes sharp as they landed on me. I tightened my grip on the practice staff Brennar handed over, already anticipating the bruises.

  The morning drills were worse than the day before. My muscles screamed, my arms wobbled with every strike, and the sun seemed determined to burn me into the ground. Riven barked instructions, sharp and precise, while Thorne provided a running stream of commentary from the sidelines, clearly enjoying himself far too much. Bagel, unhelpfully, decided the staff was a toy and batted at it whenever it dipped too low.

  “Not bad,” Grabber said when I collapsed onto the grass for the third time. “If you can swing at us half as hard as Bagel swats at everyone, your enemies won’t stand a chance.”

  Riven crouched beside me, handing me a water skin. “I’d call it progress,” he said, his tone even. “Yesterday you looked like a deer on ice. Today you at least look like one trying to fight back.”

  Thorne let out a low whistle. “High praise, coming from him. You’ll have her ready to take on the world in no time.”

  I smacked Thorne’s leg with the staff. “You’re awful.”

  He grinned, entirely unrepentant. “And yet, you laughed.”

  I had, and the sound surprised me. It was small, breathless, but real.

  Riven straightened, eyes steady on mine. “You drop your guard too easily. Come on.” His hand closed around mine, steady and warm, guiding the staff back into position. “Again.”

  I obeyed, though my arms trembled. When I faltered, he didn’t let go, just shifted closer until his chest brushed my back, his breath ghosting my ear as he murmured corrections. My pulse tripped dangerously fast, my body more aware of him than of the staff in my hands.

  “Good,” he said quietly, voice rougher than usual when I managed to block his next strike. “That’s it.”

  I wanted to tell myself I imagined the way his tone shifted on those words, but the flush rising to my face betrayed me.

  Grabber’s voice broke the moment, teasing and loud. “Careful, Riven. If you keep hovering like that, she’s never going to focus on the fight.”

  Thorne laughed, sprawling onto the grass. “She’s blushing hard enough to light the whole damn clearing.”

  I whipped around, glaring at both of them, but it only made them laugh harder. Even Riven’s mouth twitched as if he were fighting a smile, though he didn’t deny it.

  And somehow, despite my embarrassment, I found myself smiling too.

  The training went on until my body couldn’t take any more, until sweat ran down my back and my arms shook too badly to lift the staff again. Riven finally called an end, steadying me when my knees buckled.

  “Not bad for half way through day two,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’ll live through this yet.”

  Thorne ruffled my hair, ignoring my indignant swat. “And when this is all over, we’re taking a week off. No drills, no orders, just food and sleep.”

  “That sounds like heaven,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

  “See? She gets it,” Thorne said, grinning triumphantly at Grabber.

  Grabber rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the affection in his voice when he said, “You’re both out of your minds. Still… it’s good to see you smiling, Liora.”

  · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  By the time Riven finally declared my first session of “basic training” done, my hair clung damp to my face, my breathing was ragged, and my dignity was hanging by a very thin thread. The ache in my arms and legs hadn’t fully set in yet, but I knew it was coming.

  “Not bad,” Grabber said, offering me a hand up after my last failed evasive roll had ended in me sprawled across the dirt like a broken doll. His grin softened the sting of the words. “Not great, but not bad. You’re still alive. That counts for something.”

  “Barely,” I muttered, brushing myself off and trying to ignore Thorne’s snickering from the sidelines.

  He crossed his arms and leaned back against a log, head cocked in mock admiration. “I give her points for style. That last fall had… flair.”

  I glared at him, but before I could retort, Bagel strutted across the training clearing, tail high, and hopped into my lap as if declaring me the undisputed champion regardless of my technique. Her purrs rumbled against my chest, and Grabber chuckled.

  “Well,” he said, “Bagel’s vote counts for at least three of ours. So maybe you win after all.”

  Despite Bagel purring on me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit defeated.

  I sucked.

  “So, what happens when another attack happens? And when I have several men attacking me, probably including what - a wolf, a demon, and a dragon? Some other crap?” I said, rolling my eyes.

  The men were silent for a moment, before Riven approached me.

  “It is only day two. We’ll train you properly,” he said, glancing up at me. “Not just to survive. To fight back.”

  Heat climbed my neck at the way his eyes held mine, unflinching. My voice came out softer than I meant it to. “And if I fail?”

  Thorne’s answer came without hesitation. “You won’t.”

  The weight of their faith pressed into me, almost harder to bear than their doubt had been before. I hugged Bagel closer, needing the anchor of her rumbling purr.

  “You three are terrible at pep talks,” I muttered, though my lips curved despite myself.

  Riven’s low laugh stirred the air. “You’ll get used to it.”

  For a moment, the four of us stood in companionable silence. Thorne’s presence steady, grounding. Riven’s warmth sparking against the edges of mine. Grabber’s serious yet playful demeanour lightening the moment, making the pressure feel more bearable. Bagel’s purring filling the spaces between.

  With the three men around me, I felt something loosen inside me. Not quite safety, not quite belonging. But maybe the start of both.

  That night, when I finally lay down to sleep, the fire still glowing low, I realized something simple and terrifying.

  I was no longer spending all my free moments planning elaborate escapes from them, finding costume ideas and escape routes.

  Something had changed.

  Now, I didn’t want to escape them. Now, I wanted to stay with them.

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