REJECTED BY ONE ALPHA, CLAIMED BY HIS DEADLIEST RIVAL

THE MESSAGE

Ariana didn't sleep.

The room Mira gave her was better than she expected, stone walls hung with heavy furs, a fire already burning in the hearth like someone had known she was coming. But every time she closed her eyes she saw Kael's face, flat and cold, saying the words that ended everything.

A knock came just before dawn.

"It's open," she said, not bothering to get up.

Mira stepped inside, arms crossed, studying her the way she had in the courtyard. "You look like hell."

"Thank you. Very kind."

"I'm not here to be kind. I'm here because Lucien wants you in the training yard in an hour."

Ariana sat up. "Training yard."

"You heard me."

"I just got here. I haven't even slept."

"Sleep is a luxury for wolves who aren't trying to survive their first week in enemy territory." Mira's voice didn't soften. "Half this pack still thinks you're a spy. The other half thinks you're a liability. Lucien wants you strong enough to prove them wrong before either opinion turns into something worse."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you spend your days locked in this room while the pack decides what to do with you." Mira shrugged, like it made no difference to her either way. "Your choice."

Ariana's jaw tightened. "That's not much of a choice."

"Most good ones aren't." Mira turned toward the door. "Yard. One hour. Don't be late."

She left before Ariana could argue further, and Ariana sat there for a long moment, staring at the fire, feeling the ache in her chest where the bond used to sit, still raw, still bleeding.

Then she got up.

The training yard was already full of activity when she arrived, warriors sparring in pairs, the clash of wood and steel ringing off the stone walls. Lucien stood at the center of it, arms crossed, watching a pair of young wolves circle each other with obvious impatience.

"You're late," he said without turning around.

"I was told an hour. It's been fifty minutes."

"Ten minutes early is on time. On time is late." He finally looked at her, eyes sweeping over her travel worn dress. "You can't train in that."

"Nobody gave me anything else to wear."

He nodded once, and a moment later a set of leathers was pressed into her hands by a young wolf who didn't meet her eyes. Ariana held them up, uncertain.

"There's a room through there," Lucien said, nodding toward a side door. "Change. We start in five minutes."

"We?"

"You didn't think I was handing you off to someone else on your first day, did you?"

"I didn't think you'd want to be anywhere near me, honestly."

Something crossed his face, quick and unreadable. "Five minutes."

When she came back out, leathers fitted well enough, sword unfamiliar and heavy in her hand, Lucien was waiting exactly where she'd left him.

"You've never held a blade before," he said. Not a question.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're gripping it like it's going to bite you." He stepped closer, adjusting her fingers on the hilt without asking permission, his hands brief and impersonal against hers. "Loosen your grip. A death hold slows you down."

"Everyone at Silverfang told me combat wasn't for omegas."

"Everyone at Silverfang told you a lot of things that weren't true." His voice was flat, but something underneath it had an edge she hadn't heard before. "You're not an omega here. You're whatever you decide to be."

She adjusted her grip like he'd shown her. "That easy."

"No. It's not easy at all." He stepped back, raising his own blade. "But it's simple. Attack me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Attack."

"I'll embarrass myself."

"Good. Better to embarrass yourself in front of me than get killed in front of someone who won't correct your mistakes." His stance shifted, patient and ready. "Attack."

She did, clumsy and hesitant, and he deflected it without effort, correcting her footing with a short verbal instruction before resetting into position.

"Again."

They went on like that for the better part of an hour, Ariana growing more frustrated with every failed attempt, sweat sticking her hair to her neck, until finally, on some attempt she barely registered as different from the last twenty, her blade actually connected with his in a way that forced him back a full step.

She froze, startled by her own success.

"Good," Lucien said, and there was something almost warm in it. "Do that again."

"I don't know how I did it the first time."

"Then we'll find it again until you do."

A commotion at the yard's entrance interrupted them before she could respond. Grier strode in, expression grim, a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

"Alpha." He held it out. "This just arrived. Silverfang messenger. He didn't wait for a response."

Lucien took it, breaking the seal, and Ariana watched his expression shift as he read, the warmth from a moment ago draining into something colder.

"What is it," she asked.

He didn't answer right away. When he finally looked up, his eyes found hers, and there was something in them that made her stomach drop before he even said a word.

"Kael Draven is demanding your return," he said. "He's calling it a diplomatic matter. Says harboring a rejected mate without proper release is a violation of pack law."

"He rejected me," Ariana said, disbelief sharpening her voice. "He can't just decide he wants me back."

"He's not asking for you back." Lucien's jaw tightened, the parchment crumpling slightly in his grip. "He's demanding you be handed over for punishment. For fleeing pack territory without permission."

The training yard had gone completely silent around them, every warrior within earshot suddenly very interested in their own boots.

"And what did you tell him?" Ariana asked quietly.

Lucien folded the parchment once, twice, and handed it to Grier without looking away from her.

"Send Kael Draven my answer," he said. "Tell him if he wants her, he can come take her from me himself."