My sword sliced through the air again, the metallic edge singing as it cut through the tension in the clearing. Sweat dripped down my brow, my muscles burning with the effort. I had been training for hours now, each swing, each block, a reminder that I was no longer the weak girl I once was. Not in Magnus's eyes, not in anyone’s.
The men and women of Elias’s pack watched from the sidelines, their eyes tracking my every move. Some were skeptical when Elias first brought me here, but now, I could feel their respect slowly starting to build, like the quiet hum of a storm about to break. They saw me as more than just the rejected mate of Magnus. I was fighting for myself—for the pack I now called home. For Elias’s trust.
With a swift lunge, I knocked my sparring partner’s sword from his hand
