SLOANE
I went out that morning like I belonged there.
That alone felt like a victory.
The cold hit my face the moment I stepped into the open training grounds. Snow crunched under my boots, sharp and clean. The air smelled like pine, frost, and something wilder underneath it all. Wolves.
I felt the stares immediately.
They didn’t bother hiding it.
The women. The she-wolves. Some looked curious. Some looked openly annoyed. A few looked like they were daring me to make a mistake.
Normally, I would have shrunk under that kind of attention. Normally, my shoulders would have curled in. My steps would have slowed.
Not today.
I walked forward anyway.
The training ground was alive. Groups of werewolves sparred in human form while others shifted mid-movement, bodies twisting, bones crack
