UNDER HIS RULE

CHAPTER FIVE

*Author's Note: From this chapter onward, the story shifts from first-person to third-person POV for a broader narrative feel. Thanks for sticking with Ivy's journey — hope you enjoy this new perspective!*

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Ivy woke up at 9:20, sunlight already spilling lazily across her old bedroom floor.

She lay there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling, before her nose caught the familiar drift of something warm and buttery curling in from downstairs. She followed it without thinking, padding out of her room and down the hall until she found Grandma in the kitchen, humming to herself over a pan.

"Good morning, granny," Ivy greeted, voice still thick with sleep.

She made herself a cup of coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug, and took a slow sip, letting the warmth wake her up properly.

"I thought I overheard you and Cormac talking about training," Grandma said, not even turning from the stove.

"Training..." Ivy repeated lazily, the word rolling out of her before it actually landed.

Then it hit her.

"Training!"

"Grandma, what time is it?"

"9:30, dear."

The mug nearly slipped from her hands. "s**t!"

She abandoned the coffee mid-sip, mumbling an apology over her shoulder, and sprinted back to her room. She showered in record time, brushed her teeth so fast she nearly choked on toothpaste, and yanked her hair up into a high ponytail while hopping into a pair of leggings and a sports bra, already regretting every extra second she'd spent lounging in bed.

She didn't have time to think about whether she looked the part. She just needed to *be there*.

Back in the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and one of the snack packs Grandma had already prepared and left on the counter, like she'd known exactly how this morning would go.

"Thank you," Ivy called, already halfway out the door.

She didn't stop to look for Cormac. If he wanted to laugh at her again, he could do it after she'd actually survived whatever waited for her at the training ground — which, she already knew from the layout of the compound, sat somewhere near the main pack house.

*I hope you don't want to anger the alpha,* Ash said lowly, a thread of genuine urgency running under the words for once, no teasing in it at all. *Please, hasten your steps.*

*I'm hurrying,* Ivy thought back, breaking into something close to a jog as she crossed the yard.

She spotted her father, he was outside near the porch, speaking quietly with one of the older pack members, and she gave him a quick wave as she passed.

"Morning, Dad!"

He blinked, clearly startled by how fast she was moving, but managed a small nod before she was already gone, cutting across the compound toward the looming shape of the training hall ahead.

The building was larger up close than she'd expected — solid stone and timber, the kind of structure built to survive worse than weather. She could hear something moving inside even before she reached the door, controlled footsteps, the faint creak of mats being shifted.

Ivy slowed just outside, catching her breath, smoothing down strands of hair that had already escaped her ponytail during the sprint across the yard. She glanced down at the water bottle and snack pack still clutched in one hand and briefly considered whether either would survive whatever was about to happen to her.

*Probably not,* Ash muttered, unhelpfully.

Ivy exhaled, steadied herself, and pushed the door open.

She stood at the threshold of the training hall, morning light spilling in behind her, illuminating a wide, open space lined with mats and weapon racks along the far wall. The air smelled like sweat and old leather, sharp and familiar in a way that reminded her, briefly, of the years spent training in Callan's backyard.

For a second, there was only silence.

Then a deep voice boomed from somewhere inside, rough and unmistakably furious.

"YOU ARE LATE, IVY."