-TRISTAN-
"Yes, Alpha?"
Tyra walked toward me with lowered lashes and a coy smile, playing the sweet‑girl act.
Which she’s nowhere near.
We stood beneath a broad magnolia tree outside the training grounds. I didn’t want an audience for this.
After Iris left, Mark forced the session to continue, mostly to shut down the whispering. My Beta was in a foul mood, barking orders like he was leading a charge.
The wind kicked up, dark clouds racing across the sky. Beyond the mountains, a gray‑green horizon warned that a storm was coming.
"What was that, Tyra?"
With my arms crossed, I watched her. In tiny designer shorts and a fitted sports bra barely containing her chest, she looked like she’d come here to pose.
But appearances lie. Tyra was a trained fighter, a good one. Her father, an as
