Lucian was still breathless when he stepped out of the combat ring.
Not from exertion.
Not from pain.
But from his opponent.
From the way Valen's hand had felt in his, warm and electric. From the burning look in his eyes that scorched deeper than any blade. From the unbearable pull—raw and primal—that his wolf felt every time he was near.
Valen wasn’t just another recruit.
And that terrified him.
But terror had no place at Blackmoon. Especially not for someone of his rank.
So when a messenger found him just as he reached the dorms, handing over a note bearing the crest of the high instructors' tower, his stomach coiled.
Instructor Rhys Calloway, had summoned him.
The head of combat strategy. A veteran of the Northern Pack Wars. The man responsible for training the next generation
