POV: Silver Colt
The training yard was silent under the silver glow of the moon, save for the rhythmic thud of my boots against the stone path. Sweat clung to my hair and back, each movement from the drills leaving my muscles aching, but I welcomed the pain. It was a sign—proof that I was trying, pushing myself beyond the weak, trembling omega that had been rejected, abandoned.
Lesiana approached, his steps measured, the shadows of the torchlight glinting off his sharp features. My stomach twisted. There was something comforting about his presence, a warmth I hadn’t felt since Volvo’s rejection. And yet… I couldn’t shake the whisper of unease that clung to the edges of my mind.
“Silver.” His voice was low, calm, almost hypnotic. It cut through the night air like silk over steel. “Enough
