Kael POV
The Blood Moon Pack’s training yard no longer feels like a prison yard with a bullseye painted on my back. It’s starting to feel dangerously close to a playground—and I’m the rogue who’s finally allowed to play.
Sweat drips down my spine, leather gear creaking with every sharp pivot. My hair’s yanked into a high, tight knot, and Veyra is practically humming under my skin, itching to prove to these pampered pack wolves exactly what a Whispering Pines orphan can do. My body still screams from the ruins—bruises blooming purple across my ribs, thighs burning—but pain is an old friend. I use it like fuel.
Dax stalks the edge of the sparring circle, arms crossed, barking corrections like he was born with a whistle in his mouth. His scent keeps crashing into me—stormy cedar and that d
