The Alpha's Shadow Luna

Chapter 9

Leah

The cold was a living thing. It clawed at my face, bit through my coat, found every seam and gap in my clothing and burrowed deep. I'd thought I understood cold, thought the winters back home had prepared me for this. I was wrong. This wasn't just weather. This was punishment.

I stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching warriors move through drills with mechanical precision. They were dressed in furs and heavy leather, their breath clouding the air in thick plumes. Snow swirled across the packed ice beneath their boots, and not one of them seemed bothered by the wind that threatened to knock me sideways.

This was madness. Who trained outside in this frozen wasteland?

But here I was, clipboard in hand, fingers frozen, tasked with assessing these wolves like I had any right to judge them. Like I belonged here.

I didn't. And they knew it. And I was wondering why they really wanted someone here?

Every eye found me eventually. Some glanced and looked away quickly, dismissive. Others stared openly, their gazes hard and measuring, wolves sizing up an intruder. I could feel the weight of their judgment, the silent questions hanging in the frigid air. Who was I? Why was I qualified to be here? What made me think I could walk into their pack and tell them what to do?

I forced my spine straight, lifted my chin, and stepped onto the training field.

The packed snow crunched under my boots, loud in the brief lull between drills. A few of the warriors paused, turning to watch me approach. I ignored them, focusing on the three men Darien had pointed out yesterday. The potential officers. They stood in a cluster near the far side of the yard, arms crossed, faces carved from stone.

I stopped a few feet away, meeting their stares head-on. "We're starting with combat drills," I said, voice steady despite the cold making my throat ache. "I need to see how you move, how you fight, how you lead."

The tallest one, a man with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow, grunted. "And who are you to assess us?"

"Someone your alpha trusts to do the job," I shot back. "Unless you'd like to question him directly when he returns."

The scarred man's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Smart. I turned to address the rest of the warriors, raising my voice so it carried across the yard. "Pair off. Standard sparring. I want to see technique, control, and adaptability. Begin."

They moved, grudgingly at first, then with more purpose as the drills took over. I walked the perimeter, watching, taking mental notes. Most of them were good, better than good. Their movements were fluid, efficient, brutal when they needed to be. These weren't soft, domesticated wolves playing at being warriors. These were predators honed to a razor's edge.

I was so focused on the drills that I didn't notice him until he was already too close.

One of the officers … Ronan.

I'd learned his name this morning from one of the quieter omegas who'd brought me breakfast. He was large, easily six-foot-four, with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. His hair was dark, pulled back in a knot at the base of his skull, and his eyes were a pale, icy blue that looked right through you. He moved like a predator, all coiled muscle and barely restrained violence.

And right now, he was circling me.

I stopped walking, turning to face him fully. He was close enough that I could see the steam of his breath, smell the musk of wolf beneath the leather and sweat. His lips curled back just slightly, exposing teeth.

A growl rumbled low in his chest.

The training yard went quiet. Every warrior stopped mid-movement, eyes darting between us. Waiting. Watching to see if the outsider would break.

I met Ronan's gaze and held it.

My wolf stirred, a deep, primal presence that had been dormant for too long. I felt her rise inside me, pushing against the walls I'd built to keep her contained. My vision sharpened, colors bleeding brighter, sounds growing crisper. I felt the shift in my eyes, the flicker of gold bleeding through the blue.

Ronan's growl deepened, his beast rising to meet mine. Power hummed between us, thick and electric, a challenge hanging in the frozen air. He was testing me, seeing if I'd cower, if I'd submit like the omegas who scurried through the halls with their eyes down.

I let my wolf surge forward, just enough.

My aura flared, a wave of dominance that rippled out from me like a shockwave. It wasn't loud or flashy. It was quiet, controlled, but undeniable. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down with the weight of my wolf's will.

Ronan's eyes widened, just a fraction. His growl stuttered, faltered. For a moment, he held my gaze, his beast pushing back, fighting for dominance. But my wolf was more dominant than his, stronger in ways that had nothing to do with size or muscle. I didn't know how I knew that, but I felt it in my bones, in the ancient part of me that remembered what it meant to be a wolf.

Ronan's eyes dropped first. His head lowered, shoulders curling inward, submission written in every line of his body. He growled once more, softer this time, and backed away, retreating to the edge of the yard.

The silence stretched. Then, slowly, the training resumed. But the energy had shifted. I could feel it in the way they moved, the way their eyes tracked me when they thought I wasn't looking. Wary. Cautious. Respectful.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, warming them from the cold. My heart pounded against my ribs, adrenaline still singing through my veins. I wasn't used to this, to letting my wolf rise so close to the surface, to showing my power so openly. Back home, I'd learned to keep her buried, to fade into the background where it was safe.

But this wasn't home. And safe wasn't an option anymore.

I forced myself to keep walking, to finish the assessments, to act like my world hadn't just tilted on its axis. The cold bit at my skin, but I barely felt it. The adrenaline was still too hot, still burning through me like fire.

And then I felt it. A prickling at the back of my neck, the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I turned, scanning the training yard, the walls, the balconies overhead. But no one met my eyes. The warriors were focused on their drills, the omegas had vanished back inside, and the officers were huddled together, speaking in low voices.

Still, the feeling lingered. Like eyes were on me, assessing, measuring, as if they were sizing me up.

I pulled my coat tighter and kept moving, refusing to let it shake me. Whoever was watching could keep watching. I had work to do.