To Break a Wolf

Chapter 25: Burn it Out

“You’re up,” Selene’s voice cut through Mira’s morning brain fog.

Mira glanced up from the worn edge of the kitchen table, where she’d been dragging her fingertip back and forth as if she might etch an answer into the wood’s grain if she kept tracing it. Selene leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, dressed in black leggings and a fitted tank that made her look as though she’d just walked off the set of an action movie. Mira, still barefoot in her oversized hoodie, blinked slowly.

“Is that a statement or a threat?”

Selene smirked. “Depends on your attitude.”

“I haven’t even had coffee.”

“You can have it after. We’re going outside.”

Mira groaned and let her head drop onto the table with a soft, defeated thunk. “Why?”

“Because Ellie said your body’s still adjusting to the mark, and the best thing you can do is move. Work out the excess energy before it builds.”

Mira lifted her head and squinted at her. “Ellie said that?”

“Okay, no,” Selene admitted, waving a hand. “I said it. But she nodded. So I’m counting it as a sacred blessing.”

Mira stared, unimpressed. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” Selene admitted cheerfully. “But I’m also right. Ten minutes. Then you can collapse dramatically and curse my name. You’ll feel better.”

That was the problem. Mira didn’t want to feel better. She wanted answers, a map, and her mother. But mostly, she just wanted something solid beneath her feet. Reluctantly, she pushed herself upright, dragged on some shoes, and followed Selene out the door.

The training field was a wide, open clearing ringed with tall pines, within a short walking distance from the house, fog curling along the edges as if it were guarding something ancient. The air smelled pungent, with the scent of wet bark, moss, and wilderness threaded underneath.

Mira stopped at the edge, arms folded. “So what, you’re gonna make me do push-ups until I pass out?”

“Push-ups come later.” Selene shot her a grin over her shoulder. “First, we stretch.”

“Seriously? Yoga?”

“Don’t knock it. Flexibility might save your life one day.”

They started gradually, with shoulder rolls, lunges, and rotations. Selene moved as if the forest belonged to her; her body knew the rhythm of it without trying. Mira felt somewhat of a tangled marionette, all stiff limbs and slow reflexes. Every part of her ached, but not in the usual way. The soreness was deeper, buzzing just under the skin, trying to claw its way out.

Her thoughts wouldn’t quiet. So much raced through her tired brain: The books, the journal, the mark burning between her shoulder blades. Her mother. The symbol. And always, beneath it all, Bastian. How his presence pressed into her even when he wasn’t in the room, his voice haunting the edges of her thoughts.

Selene’s voice cut through like a blade. “You’re thinking too loud.”

Mira blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got that look. Like your brain’s trying to jailbreak through your skull. That won’t help.”

“Sorry,” Mira muttered. “I forgot to turn down my inner monologue.”

Selene tilted her head, amusement flickering behind her eyes. “You’ve got energy building inside you. I can feel it. You don’t have control over it yet, but it’s there. And it’s not going away. So we’re going to start small.”

“Define small.”

“Laps. Sprints. Resistance work. I want to see what you can handle.”

“Why?”

Selene’s expression shifted, less amused now, more serious. “Because your life depends on it. Whether you want to be Luna or not, people will come for you. Some out of fear, others out of hunger for what you are. You don’t have to be a fighter, but you do have to survive.”

Mira slowed. Her breath caught at that word.

“Wait—Luna?”

Selene raised a brow. “What about it?”

“I’ve seen it in the books. But it sounded… symbolic. Like a fancy title for the Alpha’s girlfriend.”

Selene shook her head. “It’s more than that. A Luna is the spine of the Alpha. She tempers his instincts, steadies his power, carrying the heart of the pack. It’s not just ceremonial or for show. When a Luna takes her place, she’s spiritually and physically bound to the pack.”

Mira stared. “That sounds… like a lot.”

“It is,” Selene said quietly. “And it’s why no Luna has ever been human.”

That stopped Mira cold.

She blinked. “Wait. What did you just say?”

“The pack has never accepted a human as Luna before,” Selene said, calm but unflinching. “It’s not due to prejudice. It’s survival. The Luna carries part of the Alpha’s power—and the pack’s connection to him. If she can’t bear the weight… it all unravels.”

Mira’s throat tightened. “So even if Bastian marked me, even if the bond is real, that doesn’t mean they’ll accept me?”

Selene hesitated. Then, gentler: “Not unless you prove them wrong.”

Mira turned her gaze toward the mist curling at the edge of the field. The woods were quiet, but they didn’t feel empty.

“Fine,” she said faintly. “But when I can’t walk tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

Selene grinned. “Deal.”

* * *

The first round nearly killed her.

Her legs screamed, every joint and tendon lodging a formal complaint, her lungs burning as if they’d never met oxygen before. Her muscles didn’t just ache, they mutinied. But somewhere under the grinding exhaustion, something gave. Not in her body, in her mind. A knot loosened. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding finally slipped free.

It wasn’t clarity or peace, but it was stillness.

Selene didn’t coddle. She coached. Pushed. Swore once or twice with enough force that Mira almost laughed through the burn in her chest. And Mira? She kept going. Because the pain she chose, pain she could track, manage, and measure, that she could handle.

When her knees gave out and she dropped onto the cool grass, a marionette with cut strings, Mira didn’t move for a full minute.

Selene sat down beside her, arms stretching overhead. “Not bad.”

Mira huffed a shaky breath. “Didn’t die. Congrats to us.”

“You didn’t quit, either.”

“I thought about it.”

Selene glanced at her, more serious now. “You’ve got more fire in you than I think even you realize.”

Mira turned her head slowly. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“No,” Selene said quietly. “It’s a warning.”

Mira frowned. “Why?”

“Because fire builds pressure,” Selene said soft but certain. “And pressure? It blows things apart.”

Mira didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Because that pressure was already there, and had been since the bond snapped into place. It simmered unrelenting. Not a spark waiting to ignite, but a fuse, already on a slow burn.

“Try and sweep my leg,” Selene said suddenly, standing and shifting into a defensive stance.

Mira blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Come on,” Selene coaxed. “Let’s see what that fire looks like.”

Mira didn’t hesitate. She moved fast, years of training clicking into place as though it were muscle memory, and instead of going for the clumsy sweep Selene probably expected, she dipped her weight and twisted into a clean hip throw.

Selene hit the ground with a solid thud. Silence followed.

Flat on her back, staring up at the sky, Selene blinked. “What the hell was that?”

Mira stepped closer, offering a hand with the faintest smug twist to her lips. “Purple belt in jiu-jitsu. Or I was, anyway. Guess it stuck.”

Selene let Mira pull her up, brushing grass from her elbow. “You didn’t think it was relevant to warn me?”

Mira shrugged. “Didn’t come up. Besides…” She raised an eyebrow. “How good is jiu-jitsu against a pack of wolves?”

Selene barked a surprised laugh. “Apparently way better than I thought.”

They kept working. Through drills, falls, and counters. Mira lost track of time as her muscles turned to mush, her feet became heavy as lead, but her chest felt lighter. Not carefree, but clearer. As though she’d fought her way back to something solid. Something that belonged to her.

By the time she finally collapsed for good, Mira was sprawled across the grass, braid half undone, dirt on her legs, and heart thudding like a war drum.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Selene said, stretching again. “You’ve earned it.”

Mira didn’t move. “The world owes me a massage.”

Selene smirked. “I’ll send Bastian. He’s good with his hands.”

Mira groaned, scrubbing her face with her palms. “Now I’m hearing my inner monologue out loud again.”

But the moment didn’t pass as easily this time. Mira lowered her hands and glanced sideways, the question slipping out before she could think better of it.

“You and Bastian… Were you ever…” She trailed off, trying for a casual tone, but her voice came out guarded. Not accusatory, but not exactly neutral, either.

Selene didn’t flinch. She just let the question sit for a beat before answering.

“Yes.”

The air between them hung uneasy. Mira wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Denial, maybe. Evasion, yes. But the bald-faced truth was somehow worse in its simplicity.

“But that’s over,” Selene added, her voice certain. “It ended the day the curse broke. We may have been bonded, but we were not fated. There’s a world of difference.”

Mira looked down at her hands. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Selene tilted her head. “It’s not about what you feel, Mira. It’s about what’s real. And what’s real is that his wolf has chosen you. Completely. Irrevocably.”

Mira’s throat tightened. “Even if I didn’t choose him?”

Selene didn’t answer right away. “That’s the part he’s terrified of.”

Selene stood, offering Mira her hand.

Mira took it, wobbling to her feet with a dramatic wince. They started the slow walk back toward the house, Mira still catching her breath when Selene’s voice cut in again.

“You know the full moon’s in four days, right?”

Mira glanced over, wary. “Okay… and?”

Selene raised a brow. “The first full moon after a mark is intense. For both of you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Bastian’s wolf is going to hit frenzy. Specifically heat frenzy. It’s not just desire—it’s biological. He’ll need to claim you fully. And it’s going to rule you, too.”

Mira stopped. “It would have been nice to have a warning about this earlier.”

“I was going to,” Selene admitted. “But you’ve had a lot thrown at you. I figured one impossible truth at a time.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “You’re still holding back.”

Selene’s jaw tensed. “The intensity depends on the strength of the Alpha—and the bond. And Bastian?” Her voice dropped. “He’s strong. One of the strongest I’ve seen. And your bond isn’t normal.”

Mira’s stomach turned. “So… what? He’s going to lose control?”

“No,” Selene said solemnly. “His wolf will.”

The silence after that was thick enough to drown in. Mira didn’t speak the rest of the way back. Mira felt the words settle in her chest, sharp and uncomfortable. She didn’t want this power, the legacy or prophecy that proclaimed her to be the girl who would change the way this pack lived. But most of all, she didn’t want to be someone’s obligation, especially not his.

Mira clenched her jaw and kept walking. Whatever she was to Bastian, mate, threat, or salvation, she had to survive being herself first.

They reached the house just after noon, Mira’s hoodie stuck to her back, her braid falling apart, sweat clinging to her skin, but inside her, shifts occurred. She wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was rising.

Until she walked through the door, where Bastian was waiting.

His eyes raked over her, sweat, dirt, exposed skin, and his jaw locked tight. “Where the hell have you been?”

Mira stiffened. “Training.”

“Alone?”

“With Selene.”

His gaze cut to Selene, then back. “You could’ve told someone.”

Mira brushed past him. “Didn’t realize I needed a hall pass.”

“Don’t walk away from me.”

She turned, eyes sharp. “Or what? You’ll assign someone else to move my underwear?”

Selene muttered a quiet, “Oh, damn,” under her breath.

Bastian stepped forward, tension rolling off him in waves. “You don’t get to run off unguarded. Rogues are still a threat.”

“I wasn’t unguarded,” Mira snapped. “Ask your Beta.”

“I did. And now I’m asking you, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking maybe I could have one damn day without you barking orders as if I’m something you own.”

“You are,” he growled, the words unwillingly falling out of him before he could stop them.

The air between them crackled. Mira’s lips parted, then closed. Her face flushed with heat she couldn’t name, and she turned, wordless, storming down the hall as the house held its breath, and Bastian didn’t follow.