They started training before sunrise.
The city was still bruised with night when Dante led Ari to the rooftop—concrete slick with dew, skyline jagged against a pale sky. Wind tugged at her jacket, carrying the smells she was still learning to ignore: rain on steel, exhaust, distant fear. Wolves watched from neighboring roofs, silhouettes with glowing eyes, pretending not to stare.
Dante stopped at the center of the roof. “First lesson,” he said. “You don’t fight the bond. You pace it.”
Ari crossed her arms. “That sounds like a fancy way to say submit.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Control is not submission.”
She wanted to believe him.
Kai leaned against a vent, arms folded, jaw tight. Lennox stood at the edge, gaze on the city, listening to something only he could hear.
“Breathe,” Dan
