The training fields are mostly deserted this morning, the early light casting long shadows across the worn dirt.
Perfect.
I’ve been tracking Lior’s scent since he left his cabin, a bitter tang of pine and leather cloyingly sweet clinging to him.
He’s over by the sparring dummies, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he lands a half-hearted kick. He knows I’m here. He always does.
“Lior,” I call out, my voice low and tight as I step into the clearing.
Cyan rumbles in the back of my mind, a low growl that mirrors the tension coiling in my gut. "About damn time."
Lior turns, his smirk widening. “Alpha. Fancy meeting you here. Decided to finally get some training in?”
His tone is light, almost cheerful, which only serves to fuel my simmering anger.
“Don’t play coy with me,” I snarl
