Wolves Of Spirit and Blood

Chapter 5

The sun blazed high over the training field, its relentless heat beating down on us. The air shimmered, thick with humidity and the metallic tang of sweat. My muscles burned from the previous day’s grueling drills, but I refused to falter. If Andre thought I’d crumble under the pressure, he was going to be disappointed. “Move faster, Maria!” Romero barked, his voice cutting through the clamor of the training field like a whip. I gritted my teeth and pushed harder, forcing my legs to keep moving despite the ache spreading through my body. Each step felt like dragging lead, but I wouldn’t give Andre the satisfaction of seeing me slow down.

Up ahead, he ran with an effortless grace, his every movement a calculated display of speed and control. Even at his fastest, he made it look easy. He glanced back at me, his smirk as sharp as the blade he favored in combat. “Keep up, princess!” he called, his voice laced with mockery. I didn’t respond. I was saving my energy for when it mattered. When the run finally ended, Romero wasted no time moving us to sparring. The pack gathered in a loose circle, their voices low as they exchanged murmurs of anticipation. They always got a kick out of watching the new girl fight.

Romero stepped into the center, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. “Maria,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re up.”

I stepped forward, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. My heart pounded against my ribcage, but I refused to show it. “Against Andre,” Romero added. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd, a mix of excitement and pity. It wasn’t hard to guess which emotion was meant for me.

Andre swaggered into the circle, the grin on his face downright predatory. “This’ll be fun,” he said, cracking his knuckles as if warming up for a performance. I glared at him, already bracing myself for the inevitable humiliation. Romero raised his hand, signaling for us to begin. The second it dropped, Andre lunged. He moved so fast I barely had time to react. His fist swung toward me, and I ducked just in time, the force of his punch brushing past my cheek. I rolled to the side and came up behind him, aiming a quick strike at his ribs.

He blocked it with ease, his arm coming up like a shield. His laughter grated on my nerves. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my stance, focusing on his movements. Andre was fast, no doubt about it. But he was also cocky. That could be his weakness if I could find the right moment to exploit it. He attacked again, this time more aggressively. His strikes were relentless, each blow designed to push me closer to the edge of the ring. My breath came in short gasps as I dodged and parried, trying to keep up.

“You’re wasting your potential,” he sneered as I countered a jab. “All that power, all that legacy, and you ran from it. You don’t deserve any of it.” His words hit harder than his punches. Anger flared in my chest, and I growled low in my throat. The emotion fueled me, giving me the strength to land a solid hit to his shoulder. He staggered back, surprise flashing across his face. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to make my lips twitch into a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got more fight in me than you thought,” I snapped.

His expression darkened, and the playful light in his eyes vanished. He came at me again, faster this time. His movements were a blur, and I struggled to keep up. Each punch and kick seemed to come from nowhere, forcing me to stay on the defensive. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said through gritted teeth as we traded blows. “You had everything family, power, a place in the pack and you threw it all away. Do you know how hard I’ve worked for what you take for granted?” His words stunned me. For a split second, I hesitated, and that was all he needed. He swept my legs out from under me, and I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. Andre stood over me, his chest heaving. “You’re weak because you don’t appreciate what you have. You’ve never had to fight for it.” I glared up at him, refusing to let his words break me. “Maybe I don’t see it the way you do,” I said, forcing myself to my feet. “But I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m still fighting.” His jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Romero’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Enough,” he barked, stepping between us. His gaze flicked to Andre, stern and unyielding. “That’s enough for today.” Andre scoffed but didn’t argue. He turned and stalked away, leaving me to face the weight of the pack’s silent judgment.

By evening, the packhouse was alive with activity as preparations for my grandmother’s funeral continued. The dining hall was filled with the scent of candles, herbs, and freshly baked bread. The elders and senior pack members moved with purpose, their voices low as they discussed the final details of the ceremony.

The Rituale della Luna Perduta was more than a funeral it was a sacred rite to honor the spirit’s journey to the moon. Every detail had to be perfect, from the arrangement of flowers to the songs that would be sung under the stars. Letti stood at the head of the room, her voice smooth and commanding as she assigned tasks. I lingered near the back, content to watch from the shadows. “You should be sitting with the elders,” Stella whispered, nudging me gently. I shook my head. “I’d rather observe.” Letti’s sharp voice cut through the room, silencing the murmurs. “We’ll need someone to lead the Moon’s Blessing. Matteo, perhaps you” “No,” Matteo interrupted, his voice firm and steady. “It should be Maria.” Every head turned to me, and I felt the weight of their stares like a physical force.“Me?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “She’s not ready,” Letti said quickly, her tone clipped. “She barely understands the rituals.” “It’s what my mother would have wanted,” Matteo replied, his expression unreadable. “It’s her right.” Letti’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. The elders murmured among themselves, some nodding in approval while others looked doubtful. Stella leaned in, her voice soft. “You can do this, Maria. Your grandmother believed in you.”

Later that night, I sat alone in my room, staring at the diary I’d found in my grandmother’s chest. Its worn leather cover felt cool under my fingertips, a tangible reminder of the woman who had left such a mark on my life. Greta’s words from my dream echoed in my mind. Find your balance, Maria. Or risk losing everything. I didn’t feel ready to lead anything, let alone a sacred ritual. But as I flipped through the pages of the diary, reading her elegant handwriting, a quiet resolve settled over me.

Andre’s taunts, my father’s expectations, Letti’s doubtthey all weighed on me. But if I didn’t start owning my place in the pack, I’d never escape their shadow.

Tomorrow, I would step into the role my grandmother had left for me. Ready or not, it was time to fight for my place not just in the pack, but in my own story.