"Okay, now try again," Emmett said, backing a few steps away and eyeing the shadows at my feet like they might jump up and bite him. "But this time, don't suck us into a void, yeah?"
Russell snorted behind him. "That's not funny, man."
"Wasn't joking," Emmett replied, glancing sideways at his friend. "You try sleeping half the night wrapped in shadow tentacles and see how you feel about jokes."
"I said I was sorry," I muttered, cheeks burning as I rolled my shoulders and tried to focus. "It wasn't on purpose."
"I know," Emmett said more gently, his expression softening. "That's why we're here. You're getting better. You just… need control."
That much was true. My power—manipulating shadows—had become more reactive since it awakened. Sometimes I could call them easily, shape them, bend them to my will like extensions of my own body.
But other times, especially when I was emotional or distracted, they moved on their own, responding to feelings I didn't even realize I was having.
Like that night we'd gone hunting and ended up camped beneath the moonlight filtering through the trees—its light turned every branch and leaf into elongated shadows.
And suddenly, without meaning to, I'd wrapped all three of us in them like we were caught in a spider's web. The shadows had coiled around our sleeping forms until Emmett's panicked shout woke me.
Emmett had woken up not pleased. Not pleased at all. Today, we were working in a clearing not far from the western ridge—quiet, secluded, with just enough moon and shadow to make practice meaningful without risking another incident.
I knelt, palms against the ground, drawing up a thin ripple of darkness. This time, I shaped it deliberately, focusing on keeping it low and contained.
"Better," Russell said, his voice approving.
"You didn't even flinch," Emmett added, giving me a thumbs-up. "That's progress."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Thanks."
The praise felt good. Like I was actually becoming something more than the broken rogue who'd stumbled into this pack months ago.
But the moment didn't last. A sharp, clipped voice cut across the clearing like a blade. "Is this what passes for training now?" I froze.
It was Talia. The youngest of all time who was soon to become a Senior Warrior of the pack.
Emmett had told me about her once before—his eldest sister, favorite of their great-grandfather Elder Axel. The one who'd been sent some time ago to the allied Moonveil pack for further training and strengthening the friendship between our packs. The prodigy everyone whispered about.
She strode toward us like she owned the entire packland, her presence as sharp as her voice.
Tall, lean, with tightly braided dark hair and golden-brown eyes that flicked across me with obvious disdain, she stopped at the edge of the clearing and crossed her arms. Emmett groaned. "Perfect."
"You're still struggling with basic control?" Talia said, raising an eyebrow as she looked me up and down like I was something she'd found on the bottom of her boot. "I thought you'd at least have mastered the 'don't trap your teammates in a shadow prison' part by now."
I stood slowly, wiping dirt off my palms, trying not to let the sting show. "I didn't ask for commentary."
"Clearly," she muttered, unimpressed. "Not sure how you made it through the tournament if you're still this unstable."
Before I could respond, Emmett stepped in front of me, folding his arms dramatically and offering his older sister a mock bow.
"Wow. The great and glorious Talia has returned to grace us with her wisdom. Shouldn't someone as powerful as you be off leading elite border raids or—what do they call it in your super-secret military training? 'Strategic dominance simulations'?"
"Don't start," Talia growled, her eyes flashing dangerously.
But Emmett didn't stop. "Or maybe you're just here to scope out your competition in the 'Who Gets to Be the Alpha's Mate' contest. Still playing that game? That's cute."
Her fist moved faster than my eyes could follow. One second Emmett was smirking, the next he was on his back, groaning and clutching his jaw.
Russell burst into laughter. "Oh damn. He earned that one."
"I'm good," Emmett grunted, waving us off as I rushed to help him. "She hits like a bull, but I've had worse from her growing up. Besides," he added with a wince, "totally worth it."
Talia stood above him, her expression hard as stone. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and strode off, her braid swinging behind her like a banner of silent victory.
But not before she shot me a look. A scalding look. Like I'd done something unforgivable just by standing in her way. Like my very existence was an insult to her.
I helped Emmett to his feet, my hands still shaking slightly from the confrontation. "Why does she hate me so much?"
"She hates everyone," he replied cheerfully, brushing dirt from his pants. "But yeah, you especially. Probably because you're younger, newer, and you didn't need to train for five years with some Moonveil's elite squad to make an impression on Alpha Draven."
Russell clapped Emmett on the back. "Or maybe it's because she sees you as a threat."
My stomach twisted. I didn't want to be anyone's rival. I didn't want to compete for anything, least of all for someone who'd made it clear he didn't want me near him. Especially not someone like Talia.
But later that night, that twisting in my gut only got worse. Because as I lay in my bed, Hyde murmuring softly in the back of my mind about training plans and future challenges, a vivid image burst unbidden into my thoughts—Talia.
Standing in the great hall. Dressed in ceremonial robes befitting an Alpha's mate. Tall, regal, her sharp beauty only softened by the smirk she wore. Confident and powerful in a way I could never be.
And Draven beside her. Not just watching her. Touching her. His large hand on her waist, possessive and sure. His lips on hers. His dark eyes with their golden flecks looking at her like she was his entire world. Like she was everything I wasn't.
My breath caught. A cold wave swept through me, followed by a painful, burning weight in my chest that spread through my entire body. No.
But it was just a thought. Just a vision. An imagining born from insecurity and fear. Still, it lingered. Poisoned me. Wrapped around my heart like my own shadows, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.
I sat up abruptly, burying my face in my hands, trying to push the image away. But it clung to me, stubborn and cruel. Why did it hurt so much? Why did I care?
"Because you want him," Hyde whispered gently, his voice soft with understanding. "Even if you don't say it."
"I can't want him," I whispered back, my voice cracking. "He made it clear." But even then, I knew the truth.
Wanting wasn't a choice. You couldn't control who you wanted any more than you could control the beating of your heart. And the thought of Talia in his arms, of her being everything to him that I could never be, made me sick in a way that nothing else ever had.
Not even Dominic's betrayal. Not even Evan's rejection. This was different. This was worse. Because this time, I'd actually started to hope.