The roar of the sparring hall echoed through the massive stone walls, rattling Evelyn’s teeth and reverberating in her chest. Metal clashed with metal. Wolves shifted seamlessly between human and wolf forms, their muscles glinting under the dim light of hanging torches. The air was thick with sweat, iron, and tension. Evelyn crouched behind the low arena wall, trembling. Her fingers gripped a sword, but every movement threatened to betray her weakness. Her body ached from yesterday’s trials, every bruise a sharp reminder that she was the pack’s weakling.
Lucien stood across the floor, golden eyes sharp, muscles taut, every movement deliberate. His gaze didn’t just observe— it cut, dissected, and measured. Evelyn felt it like a weight pressing on her chest, a suffocating reminder that she
