Lucian stood straight, his golden braid swinging slightly with motion. His wolfish grin stretched.
“Next time,” he said coolly, “Don’t play with me like you’re ready.”
The instructors didn’t even intervene.
Not yet.
The name Lucian Speare had weight. And fear.
He walked off like he’d brushed off dust.
Cadets parted.
Even senior wolves avoided his direct scent trail.
Elowyn had frozen in place, arms tensed.
She cringed.
But said nothing.
She looked like she'd faint or vomit.
Just took another step forward in line.
She had no time to flinch.
“Next pair! Froste—step forward.”
Elowyn stepped into the ring.
She didn’t recognize her opponent.
A wide-shouldered senior Alpha, face tight with boredom. Scars on his jaw. Already cracking his knuckles.
Her pulse began.
A shiver ran
