Liam’s POV
I never thought I’d be on that field, coaching Leila through punches and footwork. Me, the pack’s fiercest warrior, reduced to a reluctant trainer. But there I was, every dawn, waiting in the clearing while the sky was still gray, breath clouding in front of me, thinking maybe this was the only way to stop hating myself.
I checked my stance for the hundredth time. I hated being embarrassed by my own hands shaking. The ground was slick with dew, and I flexed my fingers, steeling myself.
Leila arrived just as the sun peeked over the treetops. She looked tired but determined, like she was fighting every step to even stand there. I cleared my throat.
“Stance,” I said, pointing at her feet.
She shifted, heels apart, knees bent and met my eyes. For a second, I thought I’d see her
