CH 1-10

Summary

A traitor, an Alpha, a Chief, and a mate bond…. Forced to spy on the Black Pack to save her family, Ayla endures torture and impossible choices. When she discovers her mates—Damon, the steadfast Alpha, and Kieran, the intense Chief of Guard—her world is turned upside down. Though her secret threatens to tear them apart, her courage and unyielding spirit win their forgiveness and love. Together, they face a bond forged through pain, trust, and an unbreakable connection that redefines their futures.

Chapter 1

POV: Ayla

The landscape shifted as the convoy approached the Black Pack’s borders, and I gripped my seat, willing my stomach to settle. Each passing mile seemed to coil my nerves tighter, the weight of what I’d agreed to suffocating. Skipping breakfast had been the right choice—I’d have lost it by now.

This wasn’t just nerves about stepping into unfamiliar territory. It was the knowledge of what I was here to do.

I was a soldier of the SilverMoon Pack, chosen—no, forced—by my alpha to participate in an “exchange program” with the Black Pack. Officially, I was here to learn their advanced guard techniques, an olive branch to foster peace between our packs.

Unofficially? I was a spy.

The Black Pack was a legend in our region: the largest, wealthiest, and most powerful of them all. Their warriors were unmatched, their strategies studied and envied by packs near and far. Alpha Ryan, my alpha, wanted that knowledge, and he wanted me to bring it back to him.

Because I was the best. The fastest. The most ruthless. At least, that’s what my training officers had drilled into me until I couldn’t breathe. I was everything they needed for this mission, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Especially not with my grandfather’s weak cough haunting my thoughts. Not with the image of my little sister, her wide, tearful eyes begging me to come back to her.

I forced the memories down, burying them deep. This mission was the only way to keep them safe.

When the Black Pack’s massive iron gates came into view, my chest tightened. They loomed ahead, blackened steel glinting in the sunlight, as intimidating as the wolves who lived beyond them. As we drove through, the world opened up into something I’d only heard about in stories.

The Black Pack’s territory was a metropolis, larger than anything I’d ever seen. The Pack House—a sprawling stone castle—sat at its center, its shadow dominating the skyline. Around it, neatly paved streets buzzed with activity, wolves moving in perfect synchronicity. My pack’s headquarters was a joke compared to this.

As we approached the guard headquarters, my awe faded into unease. The building was massive, towering above us, and I could feel eyes on me before I even stepped out of the car.

The moment I did, a young man approached. His red hair stood out against his polished uniform, and his sharp blue eyes darted to the clipboard in his hands.

“Soldier Ayla Stark?”

“That’s me,” I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. My muscles ached from the effort of keeping my shoulders squared, my movements steady.

“Welcome,” he said with a brisk nod. “I’m Corporal Levi. I’ll show you around before the presentation ceremony begins.”

“Presentation ceremony?” I repeated, the words lodging in my throat.

Levi barely glanced up as he turned and motioned for me to follow. “Today’s the graduation for our initial guard class. Starting tomorrow, the graduates will begin specialized training in various fields. You’ll be joining their ranks.”

I swallowed hard, trying to process what he’d just said. Graduation ceremonies were formal, packed events in my pack—events I avoided whenever possible. The thought of standing in front of a crowd here, in enemy territory, made my stomach twist again.

Levi continued talking as we walked through the pristine hallways, his words blending into the background. My focus was on my surroundings—the grand architecture, the polished stone floors, the rows of guards moving with military precision. Everything about this place screamed efficiency, power, and control.

Eventually, Levi gestured toward a room lined with plush sofas and a table laden with coffee and snacks. “Wait here until I come to get you for the ceremony.”

The moment he disappeared, I exhaled sharply. There was no way I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs. Not when every instinct screamed at me to move, to act, to learn.

Wandering down the hallway, I found myself drawn to a large wooden door slightly ajar. My curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped inside.

The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and aged metal. It was a trophy room, filled with shelves of awards, plaques, and medals. Weapons hung on the walls, each one gleaming under the soft lights. Axes, spears, swords—they were from different eras, each telling a story of victory and dominance.

It was beautiful. It was dangerous.

And it was exactly where I shouldn’t be.

The Trophy Room was nothing like I expected.

It smelled faintly of polished wood and old steel, a mixture of reverence and history. Weapons lined the walls, hung on displays that caught the light in dramatic ways, while shields and banners filled the spaces in between. Some pieces were ancient, dented and scarred, while others gleamed as if they’d never seen battle.

I ran my fingers along the edge of a halberd, its blade sharp but impractical. The balance was off, the handle too long for close combat, and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would have chosen it.

I moved to a mounted longsword next. It was stunning, the hilt decorated with intricate carvings of wolves mid-howl. But I frowned at the weight etched on the plaque below it—too heavy to swing with speed.

“Looks good, though,” I muttered to myself, my voice bouncing softly off the high ceilings.

“That’s one way to put it,” a voice said behind me.

His voice was deep, and low, like a growl wrapped in velvet, and it tugged at something primal within me. I told myself it was fear. It had to be fear.

I jumped, spinning on my heel. A handsome man stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed over a broad chest.

His presence filled the room, larger than life. I didn’t understand why my chest felt tight, why my instincts screamed at me to step closer even as my mind demanded I stay far away.

His green eyes were bright, almost unnervingly so, set against the sharp lines of his face and framed by long, tousled blond hair, he was really good looking but it was like he doesn’t care about it. He looked… relaxed, but there was something about him—something in his stance, his gaze—that put me instantly on edge.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said quickly, straightening.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his tone light. “You were pretty absorbed in your critique.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “You were listening?”

His lips quirked. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”

“You’re not going to explain yourself?” he asked, one brow arching. I cleared my throat, forcing my body to cooperate.

“I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize this room was off-limits.” He didn’t move, but something about his stance made the air feel heavier.

“And yet here you are.” Heat crept up my neck.

“I was exploring,” I said defensively, my gaze darting back to the weapons as if they might offer me an escape. “No one told me where I wasn’t allowed to go.” The corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t a frown either. My stomach flipped anyway.

“And these weapons caught your attention?” His voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to it, like a blade hidden beneath velvet.

“They’re… impressive,” I admitted, glancing at the spear I’d been studying. “Better than anything we had back in my pack.”

“But?” he prompted, his green eyes narrowing slightly. I hesitated. Don’t say it, my brain warned, but my mouth betrayed me.

“But they’re not practical. At least, not all of them. Some of these weapons are more for show than for combat. And this pack’s strategy…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

His silence pressed down on me, and I couldn’t stop myself from finishing the thought.

“It could use work. A lot of work, actually.” The air between us shifted. His arms uncrossed, his fingers tapping once against his thigh. His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his gaze—interest? Irritation? Both?

“You’re saying this guard’s strategy is weak.” The weight of his words hit me like a punch. My chest tightened as his authority finally registered. This wasn’t just some handsome stranger with an intimidating presence. He was someone important.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly, panic rising. “I mean, you’ve obviously got the strength, and the weapons are incredible. But strength without strategy only gets you so far. My pack focused on adaptability. We trained to fight with whatever we had—claws, teeth, even rocks. Here…” I gestured toward the room. “It’s like you’re relying too much on tools and not enough on instinct.” The silence stretched painfully long. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I had to force myself not to fidget under his gaze. What the hell I just did?

“You’ve clearly given this a lot of thought,” he said finally, his voice even. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“I just… I like to observe. That’s all.” For a moment, he just watched me, his green eyes unblinking. There was something about him that made my body betray me—a heat pooling low in my stomach, an awareness that made my skin prickle. I hated it. I hated him.

Heat crept up my neck. “I wasn’t critiquing, just… observing. Some of these weapons aren’t exactly practical for modern combat.”

He arched a brow, stepping closer. “Is that so?”

I nodded, crossing my arms to steady myself. “Take this spear, for example.” I gestured toward one of the displays. “The shaft is reinforced, but the balance is off. If I were using it, I’d shorten it, maybe adjust the counterweight.”

“And that?” he asked, pointing to a spiked mace hanging nearby.

“Too slow,” I said immediately. “Good for brute force, but useless against someone faster. I’d replace the spikes with a lighter design or ditch it entirely.”

He tilted his head, as if considering my words. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I’m from the guard,” I replied, lifting my chin. “Analyzing weapons is second nature.”

“Interesting.” His gaze lingered on me, and I felt the weight of his curiosity.

I turned to a large shield mounted near the center of the room, its edges adorned with gold trim. “And this—” I tapped the surface gently, testing its durability—“this wouldn’t hold up against a modern arrow. It’s too old. Beautiful, but not battle-ready. I’d reinforce the edges and maybe rework the weave for flexibility.”

The man didn’t respond, and when I glanced at him, I found him watching me with an unreadable expression.

“What?” I asked, defensive.

“Nothing,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Just wondering what you’d change about the rest of the collection.”

Before I could answer, a voice called out from the hallway. “Chief Kieran!”

My stomach dropped.

Every muscle in my body locked up.

Chief.

My heart sank as the realization hit me. He wasn’t just a guard. He was the guard. The man I’d just insulted commanded the very warriors I’d been criticizing. I wanted to die. Right there, on the spot. Just sink into the floor and vanish.

“Chief Kieran,” I repeated slowly, as the name sank in. “As in… Chief Kieran Reddick?”

The man—Kieran—smirked, clearly enjoying my realization. “That’s me.”

Mortification hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d just spent the last ten minutes critiquing the weapons of the chief of the guard.

Chapter 2

POV: Ayla

“I—” My throat dried, and I scrambled for something to say. “I didn’t know—”

“I figured.” His tone was casual, but his eyes still held that sharp, assessing look. He stepped closer, and I had to resist the urge to back away.

“You’ve got guts, Soldier Strak. Not many wolves would walk into my trophy room and criticize my guard.”

“I wasn’t…” I started, then stopped. There was no point.

“Relax.” His voice was softer now, almost amused. “I appreciate the honesty.”Kieran waved it off, the smirk still playing on his lips. “You’ve got a good eye. Not many would dare say half of what you just did.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a veiled insult, but before I could decide, the voice called for him again.

Chief Kieran glanced toward the door, then back at me. “You’re Soldier Ayla Stark, right?”

I nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

“Welcome to the Black Pack,” he said smoothly,“Next time, try not to trespass,” he added as he turned toward the door. “You might end up somewhere a little less forgiving.” And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the Trophy Room with nothing but my racing heart and the humiliating realization that my body hadn’t just reacted to his authority—it had responded to him.

As the silence returned, I stared at the door he’d left through, my heart still racing.

So much for keeping a low profile.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the door like it might swing open and swallow me whole.

Kieran Reddick.

The name carried weight in the Black Pack, whispered in the same breath as respect and authority. The chief of the guard—a warrior known for his unmatched skill and unshakable loyalty to Alpha Damon.

And I’d just told him his weapons weren’t good enough.

A quiet groan slipped past my lips. I pressed my palms against my temples, willing the heat in my cheeks to fade. This was not how I imagined my first impression would go. I was supposed to stay unnoticed, blending in with the other guards. I wasn’t supposed to be the girl who insulted the head of the guard within her first week.

And yet…

I glanced back at the weapons I’d critiqued. None of what I’d said was wrong, but should I have said it? Probably not. But Chief Kieran hadn’t seemed angry. If anything, he’d looked… amused. Like I was some puzzle he was working out in his head.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine—not fear exactly, but unease.

A soft creak broke the silence, and I turned sharply, my heart pounding.

The door to the Trophy Room stood ajar, swaying slightly on its hinges.

Empty hallway.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching me.

I left the Trophy Room with my heart still racing, Kieran’s knowing smirk burned into my memory. I tried to focus on retracing my steps, but the winding hallways of the Black Pack’s headquarters seemed to twist and stretch endlessly. Everything looked the same—stone walls adorned with tapestries, flickering sconces casting long shadows. For a moment, I thought I was lost.

“Stark! There you are!”

Levi’s voice jolted me, and I turned to see him striding toward me, his brows furrowed in irritation. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, exhaling sharply.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where were you?”

“I… I got turned around,” I stammered, unsure whether to admit I’d wandered into the Trophy Room without permission.

Levi shook his head, clearly too rushed to press the issue. “No time for that now. The ceremony’s about to start.”

Before I could ask what ceremony, he grabbed my arm and steered me down a wide corridor. My boots echoed against the polished floor as the hallway opened up into a grand hall, larger and more opulent than anything I’d seen in the Black Pack’s stronghold so far.

The hall stretched high above me, its walls adorned with banners that seemed to shimmer under the light of the massive chandeliers. Wolves in immaculate uniforms stood in perfect rows, their movements synchronized, their eyes sharp. I felt like a stray among them, too rough, too out of place.

Levi motioned to an empty spot in the middle of a line, and I quickly took my place, puffing out my chest and straightening my back.

A hush fell over the room.

And then, a voice.

Deep and commanding, it filled the hall like a physical force, wrapping around me, sliding under my skin. It wasn’t just a voice—it was a presence, vibrating through the air, sinking into every corner of the room, every cell of my body.

The voice melted inside me, and my eyes searched desperately to know where it was coming from.

And it was him.

Alpha Damon Black.

He stood at the head of the room, larger than life. His jet-black hair, perfectly styled, caught the light in soft waves, and his piercing sky-blue eyes scanned the room with quiet authority. His broad shoulders and towering frame seemed to take up the entire stage, and his mere posture exuded power. He didn’t need to say he was in control—he simply was. And he was the most beautiful wolf I had ever seen.

Then his gaze landed on me.

My breath hitched.

For the briefest moment, his eyes lingered, seeming to pierce straight through me, as if peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. My heart pounded, and I forced myself to hold his gaze, though it took every ounce of willpower I had.

When Alpha Damon’s eyes met mine, something in me shifted. It wasn’t just a attraction—not exactly. It was a pull, deep and undeniable, as if the very air between us bent to his will. My pulse quickened, and I hated that I couldn’t look away.

“I declare the graduation ceremony of the guard classes to begin,” he announced, his voice steady and resonant. “It is with great pride that we celebrate this milestone in your training. As the Alpha of this pack, I thank the Goddess of the Moon for granting us men and women so devoted to protecting our home and ensuring its safety.”

His words carried a conviction that made my chest tighten. In my old pack, faith in the Goddess of the Moon had been little more than a distant concept—a tradition, not a truth. But here, Damon spoke of Her as though She were the very air he breathed, the foundation of his power.

“And today,” he continued, his eyes sweeping across the room, “we welcome a new face among us. Soldier Ayla Stark, who represents the first exchange of guards between our pack and the SilverMoon pack.”

The mention of my name sent a ripple through the crowd, heads turning briefly toward me. I kept my posture steady, even as my stomach twisted into knots.

“I hope your time with us will be enriching,” Damon said, his tone warm yet authoritative. “And I hope you will come to feel at home here, as a member of our pack.”

They didn’t treat me like an outsider here, not yet. The warmth in their smiles felt genuine, and it made my betrayal feel sharper, more real. I hated Alpha Ryan for putting me in this position. I hated myself for agreeing.

I nodded, forcing a small smile in response to Damon’s words, but my nerves bubbled just beneath the surface. A part of me wanted to disappear under the scrutiny of so many eyes, but another part—something fierce and defiant—refused to look away. I’d been trained for moments like this: composure under pressure, confidence even when I felt anything but.

But this wasn’t the battlefield. This was different.

My mission was different.

Chapter 3

POV: Ayla

As the ceremony continued, Damon stepped back, allowing the ceremony master to take over, but I barely heard the formalities that followed. My mind was too busy replaying his voice, his gaze, his words. Feel at home, as a member of our pack.

It was almost cruel, really. I wasn’t here to become one of them. I was here to play a role, to gather information, to betray the very kindness and hospitality they were showing me. The weight of it settled on my shoulders like a cloak, suffocating and heavy.

Don’t get too comfortable, Ayla. I reminded myself of this as I fell in line with the others, mimicking their movements as the ceremony drew to a close. Applause filled the hall, and I joined in, careful to match their enthusiasm.

Levi was at my side as soon as the crowd began to disperse.

“Come on, Stark,” he said, jerking his head toward the exit. “I’ll show you to your dorm.”

The hallways were just as winding as before, but Levi navigated them with practiced ease. I followed in silence, my gaze flitting to every tapestry, every archway, every subtle detail that made this place feel like something out of a storybook.

“You did well back there,” Levi said after a few moments.

“Thanks,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure what he meant. I hadn’t done anything except stand there and not trip over my own feet.

“They’re not so bad, you know.”

“Who?”

“The pack. I saw the way you tensed up during the ceremony. It’s a lot, I get it. But they’re good people. Damon runs a tight ship, and the council has its flaws, but most of the wolves here genuinely care about each other.”

His words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made the knot in my stomach tighten. He had no idea what I was really doing here. If he knew, that easy smile he wore would vanish, and the kindness in his voice would turn cold.

I gave a noncommittal hum in response, pretending to be distracted by a mural on the wall depicting the pack’s history.

We turned one last corner, and Levi stopped in front of a heavy wooden door.

“Here we are,” he said, pushing it open.

The dormitory wasn’t what I’d expected. It was small but cozy, with a neatly made bed, a wardrobe, and a desk tucked into the corner. A window on the far wall let in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting the room in warm golden light.

“Not much, but it’s yours for now,” Levi said.

I stepped inside, running a hand over the smooth wood of the desk. It was so… peaceful. Too peaceful. I didn’t trust it.

“Thanks,” I said softly, glancing back at him.

“You’re welcome,” Levi replied, leaning against the doorframe. “If you need anything, just ask. Dinner’s in the main hall in an hour. Don’t be late.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My fingers traced the stitching on the blanket absentmindedly as I took in my surroundings.

It was too quiet. Too kind.

This wasn’t my home. It couldn’t be.

But for now, I had to pretend it was.

The dining hall was alive with chatter and the clinking of cutlery against plates. I lingered near the entrance, scanning the room. Long wooden tables stretched the length of the hall, filled with soldiers in various states of relaxation. Some joked loudly, while others sat in quiet conversation. A large fireplace crackled at one end, casting flickering light across the stone walls.

I spotted an open seat near the middle of a table and made my way over, keeping my head high and my steps measured. The uniform they’d issued me felt stiff, a little too snug in places, as though it was just one more reminder that I didn’t quite belong here.

Sliding onto the bench, I kept my gaze low, focusing on the plate someone had set before me. The food smelled amazing—roasted meats, vegetables seasoned with herbs, and fresh bread still warm from the oven. It was far better than anything I was used to.

“Hey there, Stark, right?”

I looked up to see a soldier grinning at me from across the table. He had sandy brown hair and eyes, and a friendly, open face. Beside him sat a woman with cropped black hair and big blue eyes, who gave me a nod of acknowledgment.

“That’s me,” I said, forcing a small smile.

“Name’s Wes,” the man said, pointing to himself, then gesturing to the woman. “And this is Mari. We’re both in the guard, too. Saw you at the ceremony earlier—must be a little overwhelming, huh?”

“Just a little,” I admitted, keeping my tone light.

“Well, welcome to the madhouse,” Mari said with a smirk, taking a sip from her mug.

Wes leaned in conspiratorially. “Word of advice: steer clear of the kitchen staff after training. They’re like hawks when it comes to mud on the floor.”

I chuckled despite myself, and the tension in my shoulders eased slightly. They seemed genuine, their friendliness warm and uncomplicated.

But just as I began to relax, I felt it.

A gaze, steady and unyielding, burning into me from across the room.

I didn’t have to look to know who it was, but I did anyway. Slowly, my eyes drifted upward, across the sea of soldiers, until they landed on him. Kieran.

He was seated at the far end of the hall, his long blond hair catching the firelight like strands of gold. His green eyes were locked on me, unreadable and unwavering. My stomach twisted uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.

“Looks like someone’s caught the Chief’s attention,” Wes said, his tone teasing.

Mari snorted. “He’s probably just sizing her up. That’s his job, you know.”

“Still,” Wes said with a grin, “not every newbie gets the Chief Kieran Reddick welcome package.”

I tried to brush it off with a laugh, but my pulse quickened. Was he watching me because of our earlier conversation in the trophy room? Or was it something else?

I forced myself to focus on the food in front of me, but the sensation of being watched didn’t fade. When I finally worked up the courage to glance his way again, he was no longer at the table.

A moment later, I felt his presence behind me before I even heard his voice.

“Soldier Stark,” Chief Kieran said, his tone low and measured.

I turned to look up at him, my throat suddenly dry. Up close, he was even more imposing, his broad shoulders and sharp features giving him an almost regal air.

“I trust you’re settling in,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the soldiers around me before returning to mine.

“Yes, sir,” I managed, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.

His lips twitched, almost like he was fighting a smile. “Good. I hope our accommodations meet your high standards—especially after your… constructive feedback earlier.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and Wes let out a soft chuckle beside me. Mari elbowed him in the ribs, but even she was smirking.

Kieran straightened, his expression turning serious again. “Get some rest tonight. Your training begins tomorrow morning, and I expect you to be ready. Dismissed.”

He turned to leave but hesitated, glancing back at me one last time. “And Stark… try to feel at home.”

With that, he strode out of the hall, leaving a trail of quiet murmurs in his wake.

I stared after him, my mind a swirl of emotions I couldn’t quite name. Embarrassment? Definitely. Annoyance? Perhaps. But there was something else, too—something that lingered long after he was gone.

Mari leaned over, her voice low. “Well, if that wasn’t the most intimidating ‘welcome’ I’ve ever seen…”

Wes snickered. “He’s got a way with words, doesn’t he?”

I smiled weakly, but my thoughts were far from the conversation at the table. Chief Kieran Reddick wasn’t just watching me. He was studying me.

And I couldn’t decide if that should make me more determined to prove myself—or more afraid of what he might find.

The bed was too soft. That was the first thing I realized as I lay staring up at the ceiling of my dorm room. The mattress seemed to swallow me whole, nothing like the rigid cot I grew up sleeping on back in my old pack. The pillow beneath my head was cloud-like, but instead of comforting me, it felt foreign. Wrong.

I turned onto my side, then my stomach, before flopping onto my back with a frustrated sigh. No position felt right. My body wasn’t sore enough. My muscles weren’t screaming for rest like they used to after the relentless training sessions back home.

Back then, exhaustion had been my salvation. Sleep would take over the moment my head hit the pillow, my body too drained to let my mind wander. Here, though? Here, my thoughts wouldn’t shut up, and my limbs refused to stay still.

I shoved the blanket off, letting the cool air brush over my arms as I sat up. The silence here was almost eerie. No distant sparring sounds, no heavy boots marching to midnight drills. Just… peace. It felt unnatural, and it made my skin crawl.

I stared at the ceiling, willing my mind to quiet down, but it didn’t listen. By the time the first rays of dawn crept through the window, I hadn’t slept a single second.

Chapter 4

POV: Ayla

I pulled the final strand of my blonde hair into place, weaving it tightly into a braid that fell neatly down my back. The new uniform, tailored in the Black Pack’s signature dark colors, hugged my frame perfectly—far more refined than the coarse, practical attire of my old pack. Adjusting the cuffs, I tugged at the hem, unfamiliar with how soft the fabric felt against my skin. It was unnerving, in a way, to wear something so… pristine. Like I didn’t deserve it.

“This is just another day,” I murmured to myself, smoothing the material one last time before heading to the training grounds.

But it wasn’t just another day. It was my first day. My first step into the very heart of the Black Pack. And every move I made felt like it carried a hundred eyes and a thousand doubts.

The training field was alive with sound, movement, and heat. Groups of newly graduated guards were scattered across the grounds, their swords clashing, their boots thudding against the dirt as instructors barked orders. The air smelled of sweat and determination, a strangely familiar scent that set my muscles on edge.

I joined the group Levi had pointed out earlier, keeping to myself as we began the drills. Basic formations, repetitive sword strikes, and defensive maneuvers—it was all so… elementary. My body responded instinctively, years of training guiding me through each movement with precision. The others struggled to keep pace, their inexperience showing in their uneven stances and clumsy footwork.

I should have held back, but my body refused to comply. Muscle memory overtook caution, and soon I was striking harder, moving faster, finishing the exercises long before the rest.

It wasn’t long before I felt the weight of eyes on me.

“Stark!” the instructor called, his voice cutting through the noise.

My stomach clenched. I stepped forward, every nerve on high alert. Did I overdo it? Had I drawn too much attention?

“Come with me,” he ordered, nodding toward the sidelines.

I’m in trouble.

My heart raced as I followed the instructor’s lead. They’d figured it out—my real reason for being here, the betrayal I carried in silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, the walls of the pack closing in around me.

The Chief office was as intimidating as its owner. Stark lines, dark wood, and an air of rigid control made the space feel like it belonged in a military fortress. Kieran stood by the window, his long blond hair catching the light as he turned to face me. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his gaze sent a tremor through my resolve. Just his presence intimidate me.

“Close the door,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I obeyed, swallowing the lump in my throat as I stood at attention.

“Your performance today,” he began, crossing his arms, “was… unexpected.”

I tensed, unsure of whether to feel complimented or condemned.

“I thought I was supposed to train with the new graduates,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You were. But from what I saw, you’re far beyond that level.” His eyes narrowed. “So tell me, Stark, where exactly did you learn to fight like that?”

I hesitated, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The truth wasn’t something I shared freely—not with anyone, and certainly not with someone like him. But lying wasn’t an option either. Not here, not now.

“It starts early in my pack,” I said carefully, keeping my tone even. “When we’re seven, we’re given a test. The results determine our paths—Smarts become administrators, Strongs go to the mines or lumberyards, and Braves…” I swallowed hard. “Braves are trained to fight.”

“Seven?” His voice sharpened, disbelief etched into his features.

I nodded, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “The training is relentless. By the time we reach adulthood, only the best remain.”

Kieran leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression was thoughtful, but there was something else there too—disapproval, maybe even pity.

“That’s… inhumane,” he said finally, his voice softer than I expected.

“It’s effective,” I countered, lifting my chin. “We don’t have the luxuries you do here. We don’t have time to be kind.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the window. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “Follow me.”

He led me through the training grounds, his long strides forcing me to keep pace. Each section of the field seemed more advanced than the last, but nothing challenged me the way my old pack’s drills had. The guards here were disciplined, sure, but their movements lacked the raw, unyielding edge born from desperation.

We stopped at the farthest field, where Levi was overseeing a sparring match between two guards. The combat was impressive, their strikes clean and precise, but I could see the gaps in their defenses, the openings no one else seemed to notice.

“This is one of our top squads,” Kieran said, his voice pulling my attention back to him. He turned, his green eyes piercing. “But before I decide where you fit, I want to see something.”

He stepped onto the sparring mat, shedding his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

“What are you doing, Chief?” I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

He smirked, a faint curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “Draw your weapon, Stark. Let’s see if your training lives up to your reputation.”

The circle of onlookers closed around us, their murmurs rising as I stepped onto the mat. My grip tightened around the wooden training sword, every instinct screaming to tread carefully.

Kieran moved first, his strikes fast and deliberate, each one testing my defenses. I parried effortlessly, countering with strikes of my own. The rhythm of the fight was intoxicating, our movements a seamless dance of offense and defense.

His strength was undeniable, but I was faster, my years of brutal training giving me an edge. Blow after blow, we pushed each other to the limits, the intensity growing with every passing second.

Then it happened—his sword caught mine at an angle, locking us into a standstill. Our faces were suddenly too close, his green eyes boring into mine as our breaths mingled.

The world seemed to stop.

“You’re better than I expected,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “But I wasn’t surprised. Not after our… earlier conversation.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I pulled back abruptly, breaking the tension between us.

“Are we done?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Kieran’s smirk returned, softer this time. “Not quite. You’ll join Levi’s squad for now, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on your progress.” His gaze lingered on mine. “And I’ll be training you myself, tomorrow here, at 2pm.”

My heart pounded as he extended a hand. After a brief hesitation, I took it, his grip firm and steady.

“Rest up,” he said, releasing my hand. “Tomorrow will be even harder.”

As I walked away, his words echoed in my mind, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me.

The barracks were quiet, wrapped in the stillness of the night. Shadows stretched across the walls as the candle on my desk flickered, casting a soft glow over the blank parchment in front of me. The vial of ink sat beside it, a silent reminder of the chains I couldn’t break.

I stared at the vial for a moment, my stomach twisting. It looked harmless—just a small glass bottle containing ink no one could see. But I knew the truth. This ink was a secret of my old pack, created from herbs so rare that even the most skilled apothecaries wouldn’t know where to begin. Only Ryan’s trusted soldiers had access to it, and he’d ensured I understood its power before I left.

The ink was invisible to anyone without the right mixture to reveal it. A leash, he’d called it, with that cold, amused smile of his.

I clenched my jaw and uncorked the vial, the faint herbal scent wafting up. It smelled like home—or what little I remembered of home before Ryan had taken everything from me.

Dipping the quill into the ink, I hesitated, my fingers trembling. The quill hovered over the parchment as guilt and disgust churned in my chest. I hated this. Hated betraying the pack that had shown me kindness, trust—even respect. But Ryan still had my family.

Alpha Ryan, I wrote, the letters bleeding onto the page before disappearing. To anyone else, the parchment would look blank. But I knew the truth.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to continue.

The armory here is well-stocked but uninspired. The weapons are traditional—mostly swords and daggers. The guard is organized into specialized units, which allows them to work seamlessly together. Their training begins much later than ours, around the age of seventeen, after completing school. It’s a stark contrast to our methods.

My hand faltered, memories flashing in my mind. Seven years old. That was when training began in my old pack. Seven years old, when they tore you from your family and beat the child out of you. I could still hear the screams of my classmates during those first months, the cries for parents who never came. Mine were dead before I could even call them, they died in a lumberyard accident.

Here, they let children grow. They let them be children.

I pressed the quill harder against the page, forcing the words out.

The guards are united and operate like a family. They encourage and support one another, a team in every sense of the word.

I paused, my throat tightening. Damon and Kieran. I couldn’t leave them out. Ryan would expect details.

Damon leads with quiet authority. He is more calculating than he appears, deliberate in every move. Kieran, on the other hand, is a warrior through and through. He keeps his men close and ready for anything. Together, they make the pack stronger than it seems at first glance.

I set the quill down, staring at the blank parchment. The words I’d written were invisible now, but they lingered in my mind, a betrayal I couldn’t ignore. Damon and Kieran didn’t deserve this. They weren’t like Ryan.

Ryan had ruled with fear, his authority forged from cruelty. Damon and Kieran, though different in their approaches, both commanded respect—real respect. And that respect had started to grow inside me, too, no matter how much I tried to fight it.

I folded the parchment and sealed it in a plain envelope, my hands shaking. Every step of this made me feel sick, but I couldn’t stop. Not while Ryan had my sister and my grandfather.

Slipping the envelope into my jacket, I left the barracks and headed to the post office. The streets were deserted, the air crisp as I hurried through the darkness. Dropping the letter into the postbox felt like placing a dagger in someone’s back, but I did it anyway.

By the time I returned to my dorm, exhaustion pulled at me, but sleep refused to come. The bed was too soft, the pillow too comfortable. My old pack hadn’t allowed luxuries like this. There, the thin mats left your muscles aching, and the cold floors reminded you not to get too comfortable. Here, the comfort of the bed mocked me, as though it knew I didn’t deserve it.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Damon’s sharp blue eyes, Kieran’s steady voice, the way they carried themselves with power and authority—they filled my thoughts, and with them came the sharp sting of guilt. They trusted me, and I was betraying them.

I turned onto my side, clutching the pillow as if I could wring the guilt from it. But the harder I tried to push the thoughts away, the louder they became.

The betrayal haunted me, wrapping around me like the very chains Ryan had used to bind me.

“I’ll fix this,” I whispered into the dark. But the words sounded hollow, even to me.

The second night wasn’t any better. If anything, it was worse.

I paced the room, my bare feet silent against the cold floor. I’d pushed myself harder than ever during training today, hoping it would be enough to drain me, but it hadn’t worked. My body was tired, but my mind? My mind was relentless.

I sat on the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my hair. The ache of homesickness surprised me, though I wasn’t sure it was for my old pack. It was for something else—something I couldn’t quite name.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kieran and Damon. Kieran’s sharp green eyes, the way they seemed to see right through me, and Damon’s quiet, commanding presence.

It made me angry. Angry that they were occupying so much space in my head. Angry that my body reacted when I thought of them, a pull I didn’t understand and didn’t want.

I crossed to the window and pushed it open, letting the cool night air rush in. It washed over me, raising goosebumps on my skin, but it wasn’t enough to clear my mind. My scars itched beneath my nightclothes, a reminder of who I was, of why I was here.

“You’re better than this,” I muttered, gripping the windowsill so hard my knuckles ached.

When I finally crawled back into bed, I thought I could fight it, push it all away. But my mind betrayed me. Kieran’s smirk, Damon’s steady gaze—they haunted me, teasing the edges of my thoughts until I couldn’t tell where frustration ended and something else began.

I must have drifted off just before dawn because when the alarm jolted me awake, it felt like I hadn’t rested at all. My body ached, but not the kind of ache I knew how to handle. This was something different, and I hated it.

Chapter 5

POV: Ayla

The sun was barely above the horizon when I arrived at the training grounds. The crisp morning air carried the scent of dew and earth, invigorating yet oddly soothing. The other guards of the top class were already gathered, their chatter quieting as I approached.

I tightened the straps on my gauntlets, ignoring the subtle glances they cast my way. My new uniform still felt foreign, like I was wearing someone else’s skin, but I stood tall and focused on the task ahead. These were their top recruits, the best of the best in the Black Pack, and I needed to blend in.

The drills were demanding but predictable. Precision strikes, defensive maneuvers, and teamwork exercises—all things I had mastered years ago. My movements were sharp and efficient, drawing occasional looks of approval from the instructors.

Still, I held back, conscious not to reveal just how much more advanced I was than the others. A few guards murmured among themselves, their curiosity about the newcomer evident. One of them, a dark-haired man with an easy grin, sidled up to me during a water break.

“You’re good,” he said, handing me a flask. “Really good. What’s your secret?”

“Years of practice,” I replied simply, taking a sip before returning the flask.

He chuckled. “Modest, too. Name’s Rowan. If you ever want to spar, let me know.”

I nodded politely, though the idea of holding back in a sparring match didn’t thrill me. The morning continued much the same—routine drills interspersed with fleeting interactions.

By the time the session ended, I was sweaty but far from exhausted. The others, however, looked worn out, some of them collapsing onto the grass to catch their breath.

The gym was a sprawling space filled with every piece of equipment imaginable. I stepped inside, immediately scanning the room for an unoccupied area. The other guards were scattered around, lifting weights, running on treadmills, and practicing combat techniques.

I adjusted my long-sleeved workout shirt and leggings, ensuring no inch of skin was exposed. The scars on my body weren’t something I was ready to share with anyone here—not yet, maybe not ever.

As I moved to the free weights, a group of female guards nearby whispered among themselves, their eyes flickering in my direction.

“Does she always wear that?” one of them said, her voice low but not low enough.

“It’s like she’s allergic to fresh air,” another joked.

I forced my expression to remain neutral, pretending not to hear them. Picking up a set of dumbbells, I began my routine, letting the familiar burn in my muscles drown out their words.

Rowan appeared again, this time leaning against a nearby bench. “You don’t usually train in uniform, huh?”

“It’s not a uniform,” I said curtly, adjusting my grip on the weights.

“Right.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly fishing for more information.

“It’s just comfortable,” I added, giving him a tight smile before moving to the next exercise.

Let them wonder. Let them speculate. As long as they didn’t know the truth, I could handle their curiosity.

By the time the clock struck two, my nerves were frayed. The thought of training with Chief Kieran Reddick had been looming over me all day, and now it was time to face it.

I arrived at the private training arena early, hoping to compose myself before he arrived. The space was smaller and more intimate than the other training fields, with high walls that blocked out the noise of the pack’s bustling activity.

When Kieran walked in, the air in the room seemed to shift. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without effort. His long blond hair was tied back today, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jaw. His green eyes locked onto mine as he approached, and I felt a strange heat rise in my cheeks.

“You’re early,” he said, his voice calm yet teasing.

“I didn’t want to be late,” I replied, standing straighter.

He smirked, gesturing for me to step onto the mat. “Good. Let’s see if you’re as sharp one-on-one as you are in group drills.”

My heart pounded as I drew my training sword, the weight of it steadying my nerves.

Kieran circled me like a predator sizing up his prey, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Relax,” he said. “You’re too tense.”

Easier said than done. His gaze felt like it could pierce through my thoughts, uncovering every secret I’d worked so hard to hide.

The first strike came without warning, his blade slicing through the air toward my side. I blocked instinctively, the clang of wood on wood echoing through the arena. He moved quickly, his attacks precise and unrelenting, but I held my ground, countering with strikes of my own.

“You’ve been holding back,” he said after a particularly forceful clash.

“Maybe,” I admitted, breathless.

“Don’t.”

The intensity of his command sent a shiver down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I let go of my caution, allowing my instincts to take over.

My movements became faster, sharper, and Kieran’s smile widened ever so slightly. His strikes grew harder in response, testing me, pushing me to reveal everything I’d been holding back. It became less of a training session and more of a duel, each of us determined to outmatch the other.

I lunged, feinting left before spinning and aiming for his side. He parried effortlessly, his strength forcing me to take a step back.

“Impressive,” he said, his green eyes gleaming with approval. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”

I gritted my teeth, the thrill of the challenge overriding my initial nerves. “Don’t hold back, Chief. I can handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?”

Before I could respond, he surged forward, his movements a blur of power and precision. For a moment, I struggled to keep up, blocking and countering as best as I could. But when I saw an opening, I seized it, stepping inside his guard and driving my training blade toward his chest.

He twisted at the last second, catching my wrist and spinning me around. Suddenly, I was pinned, my back pressed against his chest, his breath warm against my ear.

“You’re fast,” he murmured, his tone low and edged with something that sent a shiver through me. “But predictable.”

I tried to twist free, but his grip was firm. The proximity was dizzying, his scent—earthy and clean—filling my senses. For a brief, charged moment, neither of us moved.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he released me, stepping back as if nothing had happened.

“Well done,” he said, his voice neutral again. “You’re better than I expected.”

I turned to face him, my cheeks burning. “Thank you, Chief.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You fight like someone who’s been doing this for a long time. Longer than most guards your age.”

I hesitated, the weight of his observation settling heavily on me. “I told you. I’ve been training since I was seven.”

Kieran nodded, but his gaze remained thoughtful. “Seven,” he repeated, almost to himself. “That explains the skill, but… doesn’t that seem extreme to you?”

“It’s just how things are in my pack,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “Everyone has their role. You’re tested as a child and assigned where you’ll be most useful.”

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—disapproval, maybe—crossing his face. “And they decided your fate before you even knew what it meant?”

I shrugged, pretending not to care. “It worked. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He didn’t reply immediately, his green eyes searching mine as if he could see past my practiced calm. Finally, he nodded, stepping back toward the edge of the training mat.

“You’re going to train with the top class for now,” he said, his tone decisive. “But I’ll be working with you personally in the afternoons. You have potential, Ayla. I want to make sure it’s used to its fullest.”

My stomach tightened at his words, a mix of pride and anxiety swirling inside me. Training with Kieran Reddick every day? I wasn’t sure whether to be honored or terrified.

“Yes, Chief,” I said, keeping my tone steady.

“Good.” He turned to leave but paused at the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “And Ayla—next time, don’t hold back. I expect all of you.”

His words lingered long after he was gone, leaving me standing alone in the arena, my heart pounding for reasons I didn’t fully understand.

I returned to the gym after my session with Chief Kieran, still feeling a nervous energy humming through my veins. My body was supposed to be exhausted, but it wasn’t—not the way I was used to. Back in my pack, training sessions drained you until you could barely stand. Here, though, it felt like no matter how much I pushed myself, I still had more to give. It was infuriating and strange.

I started with basic drills, moving fluidly through my forms. Each strike and block felt sharp, precise, but it wasn’t enough. I pushed harder, increasing the intensity of my movements, trying to find the edge where exhaustion usually set in. My muscles burned, but it was a mere flicker compared to the deep ache I was used to.

Why? Why wasn’t this enough?

As I moved through another series of strikes, my thoughts wandered. The Black Pack was different. Their guards weren’t trained as fiercely as mine—not from childhood, not with the same level of cruelty. And yet, they were better. Stronger. More unified.

The truth was simple, even if it stung to admit. My pack lacked resources. Our training was brutal out of necessity, our strategies rooted in desperation. We didn’t have the equipment, the facilities, or the numbers to train like this. But it was more than just the material advantages.

The Black Pack was a team. A family.

I’d seen it in the way the guards moved together, the way they trusted one another. There was no competition, no constant vigilance to keep someone from stabbing you in the back—literally or figuratively. In my pack, survival was an individual effort. Here, it was a shared goal.

The thought settled uneasily in my chest as I finished my routine, sweat dripping down my back. I was used to training alone, fighting alone, surviving alone. This place was everything my pack wasn’t.

And yet, despite the difference, or maybe because of it, I pushed myself harder. I worked until my arms trembled and my breath came in short, ragged gasps. Only when I could barely lift the weights did I stop, wiping the sweat from my face and heading toward the showers.

The hot water stung against my sore muscles, washing away the grime of the day. I stood under the stream for longer than necessary, letting the tension seep from my body. By the time I returned to my dorm, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, my hair still damp, I felt the kind of exhaustion I’d been chasing.

But when I opened the door, my exhaustion evaporated.

A letter sat on my desk, its paper thick and elegant, the handwriting bold and precise.

I’m waiting for you in my office.

—Chief K.

Chapter 6

POV: Ayla

My heart froze, the simple words igniting a storm of questions in my mind. Why did he want to see me? Had I done something wrong? Or was this about training again?

I stared at the note for a moment longer, then quickly tied my hair back and slipped on my boots. My pulse hammered in my ears as I made my way through the corridors, the silence of the barracks amplifying my nerves.

And the fact that I reacted to Kieran’s presence making me even more nervous.

When I reached Kieran’s office, I hesitated outside the door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked.

“Come in,” Kieran’s deep voice called, smooth and authoritative.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to stop in my tracks.

Chief Kieran Reddick was there, leaning against his desk, his long blond hair catching the light as he thumbed through a stack of papers. But he wasn’t alone.

Alpha Damon was there too.

He was leaning against a nearby shelf, flipping through a file with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. His dark, velvety hair fell perfectly into place, and those piercing sky-blue eyes flicked up to meet mine.

My breath caught in my throat as I stood frozen in the doorway.

I didn’t know which of them drew me more. Kieran, with his commanding presence and sharp, analytical gaze, or Damon, whose very aura demanded attention and submission without a word.

“Alpha, Chief,” I greet both of them, fearing of been insulting if I didn’t.

The pull I felt toward both of them was maddening. It twisted my gut, heated my skin, and left me unable to breathe properly.

“Soldier Stark,” Kieran said, breaking the silence. His tone was neutral, but his eyes held a glimmer of something—curiosity, perhaps? Or amusement? “Come in. We won’t bite.”

I forced my legs to move, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

But as I approached, the weight of their gazes pressed down on me, every nerve in my body alight.

“Sit,” Kieran instructed, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. I obeyed, lowering myself carefully, trying not to betray the storm raging inside me.

What was this about? Why were they both here? And why, no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t I shake the feeling that I was walking straight into a trap?

I sat stiffly in the chair across from Chief Kieran and Alpha Damon, my hands gripping the armrests as if they might keep me grounded. The air in the room felt heavy, and the weight of their gazes pressed against my skin like a physical force.

I shouldn’t have come here.

That thought echoed in my mind, but it was too late now. Kieran leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him, and Damon sat beside him, calm but intimidating, with his piercing blue eyes fixed squarely on me.

Kieran was the first to break the silence. “You’ve got a lot of opinions, Stark,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You didn’t hold back in the Trophy Room, that’s for sure.”

Heat crept up my neck, but I kept my expression neutral. “I didn’t realize who I was speaking to at the time, Chief,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“And if you had?” His green eyes gleamed with amusement.

I hesitated, then lifted my chin slightly. “My opinion wouldn’t have changed. Those weapons were designed for display, not practicality.”

Damon’s eyebrows lifted, a flicker of intrigue crossing his features. “You insulted his entire guard?”

“I didn’t insult anyone,” I corrected quickly, glancing between the two of them. “I simply pointed out where improvements could be made.”

Kieran chuckled, the sound low and almost teasing. “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

I swallowed hard, unsure whether his words were meant as a compliment or a warning. Alpha Damon, however, seemed genuinely curious.

“You’re not afraid to speak your mind,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I like that. So tell me—if you were in charge, what would you change about our current setup?”

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I just stared at him. His gaze was steady, unyielding, and it felt like he was peeling back every layer of my carefully constructed facade.

I cleared my throat, my mind racing. “Well,” I began cautiously, “your formations are effective, but they’re predictable. If I were leading an attack, I’d exploit that. A more fluid approach might be harder to counter.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kieran’s brow arch, but he didn’t say anything. Damon, however, nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“As for the weapons,” I continued, choosing my words carefully, “you have some incredible craftsmanship here, but some of it feels… outdated. For example, the catapults are powerful, but they’re slow. With some modifications, you could increase their precision and firing rate significantly.”

The room fell silent, and I felt the weight of their attention settle even more heavily on me. Damon exchanged a glance with Kieran, something unspoken passing between them, and my stomach twisted.

“You’ve clearly thought this through,” Damon said after a moment, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “I’m curious—where did you learn to analyze strategies like this?”

I tensed, the question hitting a little too close to home. “It’s part of my training,” I said carefully. “My pack emphasizes adaptability and precision.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Kieran muttered, his tone unreadable. He leaned forward, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re more than just skilled, Stark. You’re strategic. Calculated. That’s rare.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Damon spoke first, his voice smooth and commanding. “Rare indeed. And valuable.”

My pulse quickened, the intensity of their gazes making it impossible to look away. The air seemed to thrum with unspoken tension, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being evaluated for something much bigger than a sparring session.

Kieran leaned back in his chair, breaking the moment with a casual smirk. “You know, I’d like to see her fight you, Damon.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I blinked in surprise. “What?”

Damon’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his gaze sliding to Kieran. “You want her to spar with me?”

“Why not?” Kieran said, shrugging. “She’s already impressed me. Let’s see how she fares against the Alpha.”

My stomach twisted at the idea, but I couldn’t deny the spark of curiosity—and challenge—that flared in my chest.

Damon turned his attention back to me, his expression unreadable. “What do you think, Stark?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. “Are you up for it?”

For a moment, all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat. I didn’t know whether it was fear, excitement, or something else entirely, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“If that’s what’s required,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “then yes, I’m up for it. Alpha,”

Damon’s slow smile sent a shiver down my spine, and Kieran’s quiet chuckle only added to the tension thickening the air.

This wasn’t just about sparring. It was about proving myself—to them, to the pack, and maybe even to myself.

I tried to keep my face neutral, but inside, panic and exhilaration clashed. Sparring against Chief Kieran had been challenging enough, but Alpha Damon? There was something about him that unsettled me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Damon finally nodded, his tone calm and deliberate. “Tomorrow, then. Two o’clock.” His eyes flicked to me, holding my gaze. “Unless you’d rather not.”

My pride wouldn’t allow me to back down. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Kieran said, his smirk widening. “I’ll make sure the arena is ready.”

Damon straightened, turning to leave, but not before giving me one last look that made my pulse race. “We’ll see what you’re capable of.”

I walked back to my dorm in a haze, my thoughts spinning. By the time I closed the door, my heart was still racing. Kieran had been a challenge, but Damon? Fighting him felt like stepping into a storm.

After that I left, and I dropped onto the edge of my bed, staring at the floor. Memories of Damon’s piercing gaze and commanding presence played on repeat in my mind. His confidence was magnetic, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the effect he had on me.

But it wasn’t just Damon. It was Kieran, too—his teasing smirk, his effortless charm. They both pulled at me in different ways, and it was maddening.

I paced the room, my scars itching beneath my shirt, a constant reminder of what I’d endured to get here. My pack had trained me to push past exhaustion, to ignore fear.

“They’re just men,” I whispered to myself. “Men can fall just like anyone else.”

But as the hours passed, sleep refused to come. The anticipation of the fight, the thought of Damon stepping into the ring with me, kept my mind racing.

By the time morning came, I was exhausted, but the fire inside me burned hotter than ever.

The day dragged on. Morning training blurred into one long session, and by the time two o’clock rolled around, my nerves were frayed.

When I stepped into the training arena, my breath caught in my throat.

Damon was already there, standing at the center of the ring. He was dressed in the Black Pack guard uniform, the dark material highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his frame. His velvety black hair was combed back, but a few strands fell onto his forehead, softening the sharp angles of his face.

Kieran leaned casually against the edge of the ring, his long blond hair tied back, watching with an amused grin.

“Stark, Glad you made it,” Kieran called out. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”

I forced myself to walk forward, my heart pounding. Damon’s piercing gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us.

“You ready, Stark?” Damon asked, his voice low and steady.

Chapter 7

POV: Ayla

I nodded, my throat dry. “Yes Alpha, I’m ready.”

“Good,” Kieran said, stepping forward. “Remember, this is a test, not a fight to the death.” His smirk turned teasing. “Unless you want to go easy on him, Stark.”

I shot him a glare, ignoring the way my stomach twisted with nerves.

Damon stepped into the center of the ring, his movements calm and precise. His presence alone was enough to send my adrenaline spiking.

I followed, my muscles coiling with anticipation.

“Begin,” Kieran said, his voice cutting through the tension.

Damon moved first, his speed startling for a man his size. I dodged his initial strike, my instincts taking over as I countered with a sweep of my leg. He blocked it effortlessly, his eyes sparking with approval.

“You’re quick,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“You’re not bad yourself,” I shot back, circling him.

The sparring match turned into a dance, every move calculated, every strike met with equal force. Damon was strong, his attacks precise, but I refused to let him overwhelm me.

He was strong, but I was fast.

Alpha Damon was older then me, older then Kieran, he was years of training in advantage, and all his muscles.

As the fight went on, I found myself slipping into the rhythm of it, the world narrowing to just the sound of our breaths and the clash of our movements.

At one point, I landed a hit that sent him stumbling back a step. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a slow, approving smile.

“Impressive,” he murmured.

But then he countered with a move so quick I barely had time to react. Before I knew it, we were chest to chest, our faces inches apart.

The air between us crackled, charged with something I couldn’t name. His blue eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“Enough,” Kieran called out, breaking the tension.

Damon stepped back, his expression unreadable as he straightened.

“You’ve got talent,” he said, his voice steady. “But talent alone isn’t enough. Keep training.”

I nodded, forcing myself to focus as Kieran approached, his grin wide. “Not bad, Stark. Not bad at all. You might just survive here.”

As I left the ring, my legs felt shaky, though not from exhaustion. The fight had pushed me to my limits, but it was the lingering intensity of Damon’s gaze that left me breathless.

That night I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above me. No matter how tightly I shut my eyes, sleep refused to come. My body didn’t ache the way it used to, my muscles not screaming in exhaustion like they always had back in my pack. I wasn’t used to this kind of comfort—the plush bed, the soft sheets. It felt wrong.

With a frustrated groan, I pushed the covers aside and slipped on my training gear. If sleep wouldn’t come, I’d force my body to the edge until it had no choice but to collapse.

The gym was dimly lit when I arrived, its silence pressing down like a heavy weight. I wrapped my hands and started throwing punches at the bag, my movements quick and sharp. Each strike was an outlet for the thoughts I couldn’t seem to silence—the image of Damon’s piercing blue eyes, the sound of Kieran’s voice teasing me, the way I’d felt when I was close to them both.

But no matter how hard I trained, I couldn’t shake them from my mind.

I delivered another punch, this one harder, and as I prepared for the next, I felt it—a gaze on me. I froze, my fist mid-air, and turned.

Kieran stood leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. His green eyes glinted in the low light, catching mine and making the air leave my lungs.

“Chief,” I said, my voice steady even though my stomach twisted at the sight of him.

“Stark.” My name rolled off his tongue like a caress, and I felt it sink deep into me, melting something I couldn’t quite place.

“You’re already highly trained. What keeps you here this late?” he asked, arching a brow.

I dropped my fist, trying to formulate a lie, but something about his presence stripped away my defenses. His gaze pinned me in place, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

I turned fully toward him, my brown eyes meeting his green, and the intensity of his stare made my breath hitch.

“The truth?” I asked softly.

He tilted his head, his voice low and firm. “I wouldn’t accept anything else.”

I hesitated before letting the words slip out. “I’m not used to this comfort. The bed is too comfortable, my muscles don’t hurt enough after training, I don’t feel exhausted enough. And I… I haven’t been able to sleep since I got here.”

I left out the part where thoughts of him and Damon kept me up as much as the lack of exhaustion did.

“You’re saying you can’t sleep because it’s too comfortable?” Kieran asked, his tone laced with confusion and a touch of amusement.

“Also,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

He watched me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze, then pushed off the doorway, standing tall. “Look, Ayla, I’ve already learned a lot from you. Maybe it’s time for you to learn something from me.”

I frowned, unsure of where this was going. “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Kieran turned and began walking toward his office. He didn’t look back to see if I’d follow, but after a moment’s hesitation, I found myself trailing after him.

When we reached his office, he held the door open for me, and as I stepped inside, my heart thudded painfully.

“We’re wolves,” he began, his voice calm yet firm. “And besides all the training, studying, and strategizing, we need to rest. Training until exhaustion won’t do you any good. Sometimes, a good night’s sleep is more valuable than hours of training. And sometimes… relaxing is just as important.”

He walked to the far end of the room, where a small bar was tucked into the corner. I hadn’t even noticed it before now.

“Even some alcohol now and then doesn’t hurt,” he added with a small smirk, pulling out a bottle and two glasses.

“I’ve never had alcohol before,” I confessed, unsure if I should be embarrassed by the admission.

Alcohol was something luxury in my pack, just the leaders and the riches had access to it.

He froze mid-pour, turning to me with wide eyes. “You what?”

“I’ve never drank before,” I repeated.

Kieran let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” He finished pouring the drink and handed me one of the glasses. “Don’t worry. It’s light. You can handle it.”

I took the glass hesitantly, the faint scent of the alcohol unfamiliar. Lifting it to my lips, I took a small sip, only to wince at the sharp burn.

Kieran laughed softly, his voice warm. “Not what you expected?”

I shook my head, swallowing quickly. “Not at all.” I laughed and gave the drink another chance.

We sat in his office, the alcohol loosening the tension between us as we talked. For the first time, it felt like I wasn’t hiding—like I could let my guard down, even if just a little.

But as the minutes passed, the atmosphere shifted.

I noticed how his green eyes lingered on me, how his voice softened when he said my name. And I couldn’t ignore the way my heart raced whenever he leaned closer.

Kieran set his glass down, his gaze locking with mine. The air felt heavier, charged with something electric.

“Ayla,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he leaned in closer. My pulse thundered in my ears, and for a moment, I thought—

The sound of the door opening shattered the moment.

Kieran pulled back immediately, his expression hardening as Levi stepped into the room.

“Chief, I couldn’t find Soldier Stark in her dorm—” Levi froze, his gaze shifting between us. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, standing and setting my glass down. My face burned, and I refused to meet Kieran’s eyes. “I was just leaving.”

I slipped past Levi without another word, the tension in the room pressing down on me.

Back in my dorm, I collapsed onto the bed, my heart still racing.

What would’ve happened if Levi hadn’t interrupted?

The thought sent a shiver through me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push the memory of Kieran’s green eyes—and the way he’d said my name—out of my mind.

Chapter 8

POV: Ayla

I couldn’t get Kieran out of my head. No matter how hard I tried to focus, his voice, his eyes, the near-kiss—it was all I could think about.

In the advanced training class that morning, I was sloppy. My movements lacked precision, my reactions slower than usual. It wasn’t like me.

“Stark!” the instructor barked, pulling me out of my haze as I narrowly dodged a strike. “Are you even here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered, shaking myself and forcing my body to move faster.

But even as I pushed through the rest of the session, I couldn’t shake the memory of Kieran’s green eyes boring into mine, the tension that had filled his office, or the way my heart had raced when he leaned in.

At the lunch break, I trudged toward the mess hall, my stomach tight.

“Ayla!”

I turned to see Wes and Mari waving me over. Relief washed through me. At least their chatter might distract me.

We grabbed our food and found a table in the corner. Wes was already diving into his plate while Mari eyed me curiously.

“You okay?” Mari asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah, just… tired,” I lied.

“Probably because you’re in the advanced class now,” Wes said through a mouthful of food. “Lucky you.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not in our class anymore,” Mari explained, nudging him for talking with his mouth full. “We’re still in the initial training group.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized.

Mari’s face brightened, as if she’d just remembered something. “Speaking of the advanced class, what are you wearing to the Moon Ball?”

“The what?”

She blinked at me, confused. “The Moon Ball? It’s in a couple of days. You don’t know about it?”

“No…” I said slowly, trying to piece together what she was talking about.

Mari looked genuinely shocked. “Wait, don’t tell me you don’t even have a dress.”

“A dress?” My voice sounded hollow, panic creeping into my chest.

“It’s a formal event,” she explained, her voice light with excitement. “Everyone wears their best gala outfits, and the girls spend the whole year choosing their dresses. You don’t have one?”

“No,” I admitted, feeling out of place again. “We didn’t have balls in my old pack.”

“What did you do instead?” Mari asked, her tone curious.

“We’d shift and run as wolves on the annual mate date,” I said, my voice flat. “If someone is your mate, your wolf would just know.”

Mari’s mouth fell open. “That’s… it? No ball? No dresses? No celebrations?”

“No,” I said. “There wasn’t much to celebrate. My old pack didn’t have time for things like that. It was… primal. Brutal. We were individuals, always watching our backs, even from each other. Luxury and community didn’t exist for us.”

Her face softened. “That sounds awful.”

I shrugged, trying to shake off the memories. “It’s just how it was.”

Mari leaned closer, her excitement undeterred. “Well, it’s different here. The Moon Ball is magical. At midnight, if your mate is there, your wolf senses it, and you just… know.”

The thought of being at a ball—of being surrounded by people in fancy clothes, of the possibility of my mate finding me—made my chest tighten.

Mari leaned in, breaking my trance. “Do you really not have a dress?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

“Well, you better figure it out,” she said, clearly worried for me.

I barely had time to process it before the air in the mess hall shifted. The lively chatter around us stilled, and an almost tangible authority filled the room.

I knew before I turned that it was Kieran.

His presence made my spine tingle. I kept my head down, but his voice came from right behind me, low and commanding.

“Soldier Stark.”

His tone was formal, impersonal, and it made my stomach twist.

I turned to him, forcing my expression to remain neutral. “Chief.”

“I won’t be able to train you this afternoon,” he said, his green eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment before flicking away. “You’ll return to the advanced class.”

“Yes, Chief,” I replied, trying to ignore the way my heart pounded.

“And tomorrow,” he continued, “afternoon training is dismissed for all soldiers without mates because of the ball. Only guards with mates will be on duty.”

My throat felt dry. “Understood.”

His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long before he turned and walked away, his authoritative presence leaving the mess hall buzzing with whispers.

I sat frozen, my mind racing. Kieran had called me Soldier Stark, so formal and distant, yet the memory of last night clung to me like a second skin.

But as I returned to my dorm, Kieran’s voice replayed in my head, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his presence made me feel both grounded and completely untethered.

If I didn’t figure out what to do about the ball, I was certain I wouldn’t sleep tonight either.

The advanced training session in the afternoon was grueling, but I welcomed the intensity. For once, I managed to push away the thoughts of Kieran and focus. His formal tone from earlier lingered in my head, but I shoved it aside, forcing myself to stay sharp and deliberate with every movement.

When the session ended, I headed straight for the gym. I hesitated for a moment at the entrance, Kieran’s words from last night playing in my mind: Train until exhaustion wouldn’t do any good. A good night of sleep is better than hours of training.

For once, I listened. Instead of punishing my body, I did a shorter, focused workout. My muscles burned just enough to feel productive, but I stopped before the familiar ache of overexertion set in.

Afterward, I lingered under the hot water in the showers, hoping it might rinse away the tangled thoughts in my head. It didn’t.

When I returned to my dorm, my chest tightened at the sight of the small box tucked in my bag. Hidden inside were the tools I needed for my mission: a vial of invisible ink, a fine brush, and sheets of parchment.

The guilt weighed heavier each time I sat down to write. Tonight was no exception.

I lit a candle, pulled out the materials, and stared at the blank page. My hand hovered over the parchment, trembling. Each word I sent back felt like a betrayal to the people here. People who had started to feel like more than just strangers.

I dipped the brush into the ink, my chest tightening as I began to write. This time, I couldn’t include any real details. The words were shallow, vague, carefully constructed to appear like I was still fulfilling my role while withholding anything truly useful.

By the time I finished, my heart ached. The act of betrayal left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I folded the letter and sealed it with wax, tucking it into a hidden compartment in the floor. It would be sent tomorrow, just like the others.

When I finally lay down, exhaustion tugged at my limbs, but my mind wouldn’t rest. The ball. Kieran. Damon. The betrayal. It all spun around in a relentless loop, keeping me on edge.

But something was different tonight. My body, though not entirely at ease, was beginning to grow accustomed to the comfort of the mattress, the warmth of the blankets. The tension in my muscles eased, and for the first time since I arrived, sleep came, even if only in fleeting moments.

It wasn’t enough to erase the guilt or quiet my thoughts, but it was a start.

Chapter 9

POV: Ayla

The morning air was crisp as I made my way to the post office, the small letter burning a hole in my pocket. Each step toward the building felt heavier than the last. By now, I had perfected the mask I wore, the calm expression that hid the turmoil beneath. The attendant took the letter with a polite nod, unaware of the weight it carried, and I turned on my heel, leaving as quickly as I’d arrived.

When I got back to my dorm, I paused, my breath catching. A large box sat just outside the door, a folded note resting on top. My heart skipped a beat the moment I saw the familiar handwriting—Kieran’s.

I reached for the note, my fingers trembling slightly as I unfolded it. His words were confident, straightforward, yet somehow thoughtful:

“Stark

I noticed you’ve never tried alcohol before, which tells me you may also not have a dress for the Moon Ball. Consider this a gesture to ensure you’re prepared. I hope it suits you. Chief K.”

The words felt too kind, too personal, and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest. I wasn’t used to this—any of it.

I opened the box, my breath catching as I pulled out the dress. The fabric was luxurious, a deep burgundy that shimmered faintly in the light. It was elegant yet simple, not overly adorned, and undeniably beautiful. But as I held it up, my stomach twisted.

The short sleeves would expose the scars that ran down my arms—silver reminders of my old pack’s cruelty. My first instinct was to fold the dress away, to hide it, but something stopped me. Kieran had chosen this for me. The thought of wearing it stirred something unfamiliar in me, a mix of vulnerability and… trust? I shook my head, pushing the feeling aside.

Still, I needed a solution. I couldn’t bear for anyone to see the scars.

At training, I channeled the confusing emotions into my movements, feeling sharper and more focused than I had in days. My punches landed with precision, my movements fluid and controlled. For a few hours, I forgot about the dress, the ball, and the ache in my chest.

When lunch came, Wes and Mari found me again, their easy smiles lifting my spirits.

“So,” Mari said, nudging me as we sat down with our trays. “Have you picked out a dress for the ball?”

I hesitated, the weight of Kieran’s gift pressing on me. “I… have one,” I admitted.

Mari’s eyes lit up. “Really? What’s it like? Oh, I bet it’s gorgeous!”

“It’s… nice,” I said, unsure how to explain my mixed feelings. “But I might need your help.”

Mari beamed, her enthusiasm infectious. “Of course! What do you need?”

I glanced around, ensuring no one was listening. “I need something to cover my arms. A coat or… something.”

Mari tilted her head, concern flickering in her eyes, but she didn’t pry. “I’ve got just the thing! A fur scarf. It’s elegant, warm, and will go with anything.”

Relief flooded me. “Thank you.”

After lunch, I followed Mari to her dorm, where she rummaged through her belongings until she pulled out a soft, cream-colored fur scarf.

“This will be perfect,” she said, draping it over my shoulders. “Now, let’s talk hair and makeup. You can’t go to the Moon Ball looking anything less than stunning.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Mari was already gathering supplies. Her kindness was disarming, and for once, I let my guard down.

I never had a friend, I train since I was seven, and all the guards were my colleagues, more enemies then friends. They were competition.

Mari was the closest thing to a friend that I ever had, and I need to say I like that.

As she worked on my hair, pulling it into soft blond waves, and applied subtle makeup to highlight my features and my brown eyes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back.

“You look amazing,” Mari said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

I didn’t respond, the unfamiliar feeling from earlier returning. Was this what it felt like to be part of something bigger? To have someone care without expecting anything in return?

“Thank you,” I finally whispered, the words feeling heavier than they should.

Mari grinned. “You’re going to knock everyone off their feet tonight, Ayla.”

If only she knew how much I dreaded standing out.

I closed the door to my dorm and stared at the burgundy dress laid out on the bed, the scarf Mari had given me draped beside it. My heart raced as I brushed my fingers over the soft fabric. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a gift, a gesture I didn’t know how to process.

I slipped into the dress carefully, pulling it over my shoulders. The material hugged my frame in a way that made me feel… different. I wasn’t used to the way the delicate fabric felt against my skin, how it flowed and shimmered when I moved.

I wrapped the fur scarf around my shoulders, adjusting it until I was sure it covered the scars. My forearms were bare, smooth, but the marks on my upper arms and shoulders were hidden beneath the soft material. My hands hesitated as I tied it into place. No one here needed to see the reminders of where I came from—of what I’d endured.

When I stepped in front of the mirror, I froze.

The woman staring back wasn’t me.

Her hair fell in soft waves, framing her face perfectly. Her eyes, lined subtly by Mari’s skillful hand, seemed brighter, more alive. And the dress… it transformed her. She looked regal, elegant, a far cry from the soldier who fought tooth and nail to survive.

But no amount of beauty could hide the conflict in her eyes.

I swallowed hard, turning away from the mirror. I wasn’t meant for this. The comfort, the kindness, the luxury—it was dangerous. I couldn’t let myself get used to it, couldn’t let it seep into my bones and make me soft. I had a mission. I couldn’t forget that.

But just for tonight, I decided, I would allow myself to feel something else.

When the time came, I made my way to the ballroom. The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught.

It was like stepping into another world.

The room was adorned with shimmering lights and luxurious decorations, every detail perfectly placed. Tables lined with food stretched out before me, offering dishes I couldn’t even name. The air buzzed with laughter and music, and for a moment, I felt completely out of place.

My stomach growled, pulling me from my thoughts. I moved to one of the tables, overwhelmed by the choices. Everything looked too delicious, too perfect, and I couldn’t decide what to try first.

Then I felt it—a gaze, sharp and unwavering.

I looked up and found him on the mezzanine.

Alpha Damon.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and the rest of the room seemed to blur. My breath hitched, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure someone would hear it. The pull toward him was undeniable, a magnetic force I couldn’t explain.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, neither of us moved.

But then someone approached him, speaking in hushed tones, and the connection broke. His attention shifted, leaving me feeling exposed and… hollow.

I turned back to the table, trying to steady my breathing. I picked up a glass of something sparkling and took a sip, the sweet bubbles distracting me. I had to focus, to ground myself, but before I could, I felt a presence at my side and a intoxicating familiar scent came to my nostrils.

I turned, and there he was.

Alpha Damon.

Up close, he was even more striking. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, the dark fabric highlighting his powerful frame. He exuded authority, his presence commanding without effort. But there was something else, something softer in the way his lips curved into a slight smile.

“You look good, Soldier Stark,” he said, his voice smooth and warm.

I fought to keep my composure, his words igniting something in my chest. “I could say the same for you, Alpha Damon.”

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “It’s a rare occasion. Don’t get used to it.”

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt my cheeks heat under his gaze.

“I have to admit,” he said, leaning in slightly, “I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight. Balls don’t exactly seem like your thing.”

“They’re not,” I admitted, taking another sip of my drink to steady myself. “But I was told it’s tradition. And I didn’t want to stick out more than I already do.”

He smiled at that, a genuine, almost teasing smile that made my knees feel weak. “You’d stick out no matter what, Ayla.”

The way he said my name sent a jolt through me.

We talked for a while, his presence strangely comfortable despite the tension humming between us. He teased me about our fight during training, his words laced with humor and respect. I couldn’t help but smile, the weight on my chest lifting slightly.

But the strange feeling that I was comfortable talking to an Alpha was hunting me, I was raised to learn that I didn’t worth it, but Damon made me feel like I do.

But then, his attention was pulled away again. Someone approached him, murmuring something urgent. Damon’s brow furrowed, and he turned back to me.

“Duty calls,” he said, his tone apologetic. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Soldier Stark.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood there, the absence of his presence leaving me unsettled. The room felt bigger, emptier without him beside me. I wanted to call him back, to keep talking, to stay in that strange, unexplainable moment between us.

But instead, I finished my drink and turned back to the table of food, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. Trying to ignore the way his blue eyes haunted me, even in the crowded, bustling ballroom.

Chapter 10

POV: Ayla

The rich taste of the food was almost overwhelming, each bite more indulgent than the last. I tried things I couldn’t even name—delicate pastries, savory morsels, and something called crème brûlée that melted on my tongue. I felt like I was living in someone else’s life, not mine.

My glass of champagne was almost empty when I decided to try another. The bubbly liquid had grown on me, the slight warmth spreading through my veins loosening the tightness in my chest. With each sip, my thoughts seemed quieter, my body lighter.

For the first time since I arrived here, I wasn’t overthinking. I wasn’t dwelling on my mission, on my scars, on the pull of Damon’s piercing blue eyes. Instead, I felt.

And then his voice came, low and smooth, wrapping around me like a velvet ribbon.

“It seems you’re starting to enjoy drinks.”

I turned, and there he was—Chief Kieran Reddick.

My breath caught at the sight of him. He stood tall, commanding in his formal guard uniform, adorned with insignias and badges that gleamed in the soft light of the ballroom. The uniform only emphasized his broad shoulders and the undeniable power he carried. The air shifted, charged with his presence.

His green eyes glimmered with something I couldn’t place, and his lips curved into a teasing smirk that made my pulse race.

“I could get used to it,” I replied, swirling the golden liquid in my glass and meeting his gaze.

His smirk deepened as he stepped closer, the faint scent of cedar and earth following him. “Careful, Stark. You’re already dangerous enough without alcohol giving you an edge.”

I laughed softly, the sound surprising even me. “Dangerous? I thought you’d like that in a soldier.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice dropping just a fraction. “But now you’re walking a fine line.”

The way his green eyes lingered on mine sent a shiver down my spine, the pull toward him undeniable. It wasn’t just his looks or his presence—it was the way he spoke to me, like we were the only two people in the room.

“What about you?” I asked, tilting my head. “You’re not drinking?”

He raised a brow, his smirk never wavering. “I’m on duty. Someone has to keep an eye on the recruits.”

I couldn’t help but tease him. “So, is this you keeping an eye on me?”

His gaze dipped ever so slightly before locking with mine again. “Maybe.”

The tension between us thickened, the air charged with something I couldn’t quite name. For a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of us standing there, the music and laughter of the ballroom fading into the background. My heart beats so fast that I could hear in my head.

But then, a group of high-ranking guards approached. One of them called out to Kieran, their tone formal and respectful.

He glanced at me, his expression softening just enough to make my heart stutter. “Duty calls.”

“Seems to be a theme tonight,” I said, trying to sound unaffected.

Kieran chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Enjoy yourself, Stark. Just don’t drink too much. I need you sharp in training tomorrow.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there, my thoughts spinning.

Before I could dwell too much, Mari and Wes found me. Mari was as bubbly as ever, her excitement contagious. She looped her arm through mine, pulling me toward a table where more food and drinks awaited.

“You’re glowing!” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve already had an adventure tonight, haven’t you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Mari grinned, clearly unconvinced, and then nudged me. “Did you Chief Kieran tonight? He’s in such a good mood. Maybe he’ll finally meet his mate.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I forced a neutral expression. “He seems… happy,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Oh, he is,” Mari said dreamily. “Finding your mate is the best feeling in the world. It’s like…” She paused, searching for the words. “It’s like finally finding the other half of your soul.”

Wes snorted, reaching for another glass of champagne. “You sound like a romance novel, Mari.”

“Shut up, Wes. You’ll be saying the same thing when you meet your mate,” Mari shot back, sticking her tongue out at him.

Wes shrugged, a teasing glint in his eye. “I just know Alpha Damon is desperate to find his Luna. Poor guy’s been waiting for years.”

Alpha Damon.

His name alone sent a ripple through me, and I had to look away to hide my reaction.

The three of us stayed together for the rest of the evening, eating, drinking, and laughing. But as the clock neared midnight, the atmosphere in the ballroom shifted.

Excitement and nerves buzzed in the air, the anticipation palpable. Everyone knew what was coming.

The moment of truth. The time when mates would reveal themselves.

I tried to steady my breathing, to keep my composure. But as the minutes ticked closer, my chest tightened.

Was I ready for this?

My heart raced as the room grew quieter, the energy shifting into something almost electric. And for the first time in years, I felt truly unsure of what would happen next.

The room was heavy with anticipation, the air thick with an energy that seemed almost alive. Every eye was on the stage, waiting for the moment that had been building all night. I stood near the edge of the ballroom, my fingers brushing against the soft fur of Mari’s scarf around my shoulders, a fragile barrier between me and the world. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Finding a mate had never been something I dreamed of. In my old pack, it was primal and utilitarian—an annual run under the moonlight where wolves paired by instinct, their bond forged in the wild. There were no dresses, no ceremonies, no speeches. And certainly no romance.

I had cared only about my duty to the guard, my family, and survival. Mates had been a distant, meaningless concept.

But now, as Alpha Damon stepped onto the stage, the weight of the moment hit me with the force of a tidal wave.

He stood tall, his commanding presence radiating through the room. Every movement, every gesture, spoke of authority and power. The silence that followed was absolute, as if even the air itself obeyed him.

“Tonight,” Damon began, his voice low but resonant, carrying to every corner of the room, “is a sacred night. A night where the Moon Goddess blesses us with her gift of love and unity. To those who find their mates, may you cherish the bond that will make you whole.”

His words hung in the air like a prayer, and then the moment began.

A hush fell over the crowd as the first couple stepped onto the dance floor. Their eyes shimmered with the unmistakable glow of their wolves, and then, as if summoned by an unspoken call, the wolves came. Fur rippled, claws scraped the floor, and two forms ran together into the night, their love palpable.

“Moon Goddess bless your love,” Damon said, his deep voice carrying across the room.

Another couple followed, and then another, their transformations smooth and fluid as if they’d waited their whole lives for this moment. Damon’s blessing echoed each time, a steady reminder of the magic in the air.

But then, as the last couple left, something changed.

Damon stepped down from the stage. His movements were deliberate, confident, his every step commanding the room’s attention. Gasps rippled through the crowd as people turned to each other, whispering questions and guesses. The Alpha himself—surely not.

He was finding his mate….

My legs tingled, and a strange pull gripped me.

No.

My heart pounded, the rhythm erratic, almost painful. My chest tightened as my feet moved without my consent, carrying me toward the center of the room.

This couldn’t be happening.

The whispers around me grew louder, a cacophony of disbelief and intrigue. My breathing quickened as my body betrayed me, drawn toward the dance floor like a moth to flame. I felt exposed, vulnerable…and loved.

And then I saw him.

Damon’s gaze locked with mine, his brilliant blue eyes glowing with the unmistakable light of his wolf. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was magnetic, pulling me in with a force I couldn’t fight.

The feeling was overwhelming, consuming me, it’s was good and I wanted more.

Before I could process it, I felt another presence, just as powerful, just as inescapable.

Kieran.

He stepped forward, his strides purposeful and strong. His green eyes shimmered with the same light, and my heart stuttered in my chest. My knees threatened to buckle as he joined Damon in the center of the dance floor, both of them standing before me like gods come to life.

No. No, no, no.

My wolf stirred, restless and eager, pushing against the boundaries of my control. My vision blurred as I felt the pull of them—Damon, Kieran, their wolves. The bond between us ignited like a spark catching fire, overwhelming and raw.

Their wolves’ eyes met mine, and the connection hit me like a physical blow. Love. Passion. Desire. It wasn’t just my wolf; it was me, every part of me, screaming for them.

And then it happened.

The familiar heat of the shift overtook me, the power of my wolf surging forward. My skin burned, my bones stretched, and in moments, I was no longer human. My fur was light brown, shimmering under the moonlight streaming through the grand windows, my wolf taking its place beside theirs.

Damon’s wolf appeared first—a massive black wolf, his presence as commanding in this form as it was in his human one. Then Kieran’s wolf joined, a rich brown with streaks of gold, his strength and loyalty evident in every step.

Mates.

Two mates.

They were both my mates.

The realization slammed into me, suffocating and exhilarating all at once. How could this be? Two mates. The Alpha and the Head of the Guard. It was unheard of, impossible. And yet, here they were, their wolves standing before mine, their bond to me undeniable.

I felt flooded with emotions too intense to name—love, connection, terror. My wolf felt at peace, her instincts celebrating the sacred bond. But I couldn’t breathe.

This was wrong.

This wasn’t my life.

I turned and ran, my wolf bolting from the dance floor. The crowd parted like water as I fled, their stunned faces a blur. My paws hit the cold ground outside, and I pushed harder, needing distance, needing air.

I couldn’t do this.

I wasn’t supposed to have mates, let alone two. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I wasn’t supposed to stay.

And yet, as I ran, I couldn’t shake the image of their eyes, the bond pulling me back even as I tried to escape.