Juliette’s POV
The next morning, the entire arena felt wrong.
Not dangerous in the way it had felt before—when shadows moved too quickly or footsteps echoed where no one walked—but violated. As if something had crawled inside the Wolves’ territory during the night and carved its presence into the walls.
Maybe that was exactly what happened.
I barely slept. Every sound in my room set my nerves on fire. Every breath felt too loud. And the note written in my handwriting—something I still couldn’t understand—was folded in my pocket now, burning against my leg like a brand.
When I pushed open the door to the players’ hallway, Bryan was already waiting.
He stood like a wall, broad shoulders flexed beneath his training hoodie, jaw tense, eyes stormy. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.
