The Pack (Completed Series)

Chapter 13 - Aria

The forest behind the house was cold enough to sting my lungs when I breathed too hard. By the end of the morning, I felt like I'd swallowed a bucket of frost.

Kael had started me off at dawn.

He set me in the clearing, told me to close my eyes, and had me match my breathing to the slow rise and fall of his voice.

"Inhale. Feel the ground under your feet. Exhale. Feel the tension bleed away."

I tried, but every time I relaxed, my mind wandered to the Blackfangs, to the ticking clock, to the sensation beneath my skin like something sharp and restless trying to break free.

"Again," Kael said evenly, not opening his eyes.

"This feels useless," I muttered.

"Then you're not doing it right."

His tone wasn't cruel. Just certain. And I hated that I wanted to prove him wrong.

When I finally slipped into the quiet he was guiding me toward, it was like finding a secret place inside my own chest — somewhere my wolf wasn't clawing, just... watching.

But Kael didn't let me linger. By midmorning, Elias took over.

He led me into a stretch of open ground scattered with fallen logs.

"We're going to move," he said, tossing me a lopsided grin. "Fast. Quiet. Eyes open."

I followed as he darted forward, leaping logs, weaving between trees. At first, I stumbled over roots and branches. Elias was quick to catch me when I fell, but he never slowed his pace.

"You're not just running," he called back. "You're reading the world around you. The ground. The air. The shadows. The wolf will see it all — you just have to keep up."

Somewhere between the second and third lap, something clicked. My body started moving before I thought about it. The world sharpened. I smelled pine and damp earth, heard the flutter of wings in the distance.

I almost didn't want to stop.

Then Ryker stepped in.

Elias gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the trees, leaving me standing across from Ryker in a bare patch of dirt.

He didn't smile. "You're going to hit me."

My eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"You're going to try. I'm going to make sure you can handle yourself if one of them gets close enough to put their hands on you."

"I'm not—"

He moved. Not fast enough to hurt me, but fast enough to make me stumble back.

"Stop thinking," he growled. "Move."

The next few minutes were a blur of blocked strikes, grabbed wrists, and Ryker's voice in my ear telling me where I'd left myself open. He wasn't gentle. He didn't let me win. And when my temper finally boiled over, I came at him with more force than I'd thought I had.

He caught my fist, twisted, and had me on the ground in a blink. But instead of gloating, he held me there, his breathing heavy.

"That," he said, his eyes locked on mine, "was closer to the real you."

My pulse thundered in my ears. I wasn't sure if it was from the fight — or from him.

When Ryker finally stepped back, I realized my muscles were trembling. Every inch of me ached. But underneath the exhaustion was something else.

A flicker of belief that maybe — maybe — I could do this.