Chase’s POV
The clearing behind the estate had become my second home.
No more basement gym with its mirrored walls and fluorescent lights. I needed open air, moonlight, the smell of pine and earth—something real to ground me while the knee still screamed every time I pushed it. The brace stayed on during daylight sessions, but at dusk I took it off. Let the joint breathe. Let the wolf feel the risk.
Training had shifted.
No more heavy bench presses or battle ropes until my arms gave out. The physical therapist had drilled it into me: protect the repair, build around the weakness. So I did. Upper body still got hammered—pull-ups on the low branch of the big oak, one-arm push-ups on the soft grass, medicine-ball throws against a tree trunk until my shoulders burned clean. But the real wo
