Bethany
Risk has a sound.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just the quiet tightening behind the ribs when instinct says wait and ambition answers now.
I recognize it immediately.
And I ignore it.
The packhouse is settling into evening when I step into the corridor outside the training wing. Wolves drift through the space in loose clusters, sweat and adrenaline still clinging to them after drills.
Perfect.
Emotions sit closer to the surface here.
Two wolves stop talking when they see me. Their conversation resumes the moment I pass.
Choice.
Interesting.
I lean against the wall, posture relaxed, expression thoughtful.
A younger wolf slows nearby. Not the one I tested before. Someone adjacent.
Good.
“Long day,” I say casually.
He nods. “Yeah. Adjustments.”
That word again.
“They’re h
