FAYE
Training days used to feel different.
They used to burn.
Not just the muscles—everything else, too. Anger, fear, the constant need to prove that I belonged in a world that was always testing how much pain I could take before I broke. I used to throw myself into sparring like it was the only language I spoke fluently.
Now, I stood at the edge of the training field with my arms folded, watching Kyle circle one of the newer recruits, my boots planted firmly in the dirt, my breathing slow and even.
The sun sat high above Blood Crescent, warm. Dust clung to the air in thin, lazy clouds as wolves shifted in and out of stances, their movements sharp, eager. Laughter cut through the clang of practice blades and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.
I wasn’t in the middle of it.
T
