"This wasn't my fault! I did nothing wrong! Please... please, Beta, help me!" Aram's voice cracked, echoing off the damp stone walls as two Warriors hauled him toward the row of empty underground cells. He dug his heels into the dirt, but the guards didn't flinch, hoisting him forward with practiced indifference.
Boris didn't even look at him. "Be patient. This will blow over," he said dismissively, his boots clicking rhythmically against the floor as he walked past Aram's cell.
His sole focus was on his mate. Her healing had taken longer than anyone had expected, a grueling process that had tethered his heart to the infirmary for days. But finally, she had been released—not to their home, but to the cold silence of the pack dungeons.
Alana didn't look much like the wife he had come to know over the years. As he reached her cell, he paused. Her hair, usually pinned in a perfect, regal coif, fell loose and messy around her shoulders. She was clad in rough hospital scrubs, a jarring contrast to the designer fashions she wore like armor. That armor was stripped away now, leaving her looking small and strangely fragile against the gray backdrop.
Without needing to be asked, the guard stepped forward, the heavy iron lock turning with a sharp clack. Boris entered quietly. Alana's body was hunched on the narrow cot, her back to the door. She was facing the wall, refusing to look at him. Still angry. He could understand. Tomorrow she would be whipped. This visit, he imagined, felt like salt in an open wound.
"Are you just not going to talk to me?" Boris asked softly.
Each visit had gone the same since the moment he had told her her punishment. She hadn't spoken again. She had closed off their bond, slamming the door on the mental bridge that usually linked them. He could force his way in—he had the strength to break through her mental shields—but he wouldn't. He wanted to give her the privacy to sort out her thoughts.
He sat on the edge of her bed, the springs groaning under his weight. Reaching out, he rested his palm on her side, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her back. His mind began to wander to better years. They used to talk about everything—every pack dispute, every secret. They were a unit. He never would have imagined that life would bring them to a cell.
"The warrior exam is coming up," Boris rambled, his voice low and steady, filling the suffocating silence. "I'm rooting for our pack to come out on top. We're hoping to have the most Warriors pass the test. And the strongest. If we win this year, we have the opportunity to expand our pack lands. It'd be nice. A new piece of Earth to explore. We could take some time. Get out of the pack. Do something for just us."
He spoke of anything that popped into his head, desperate to bridge the chasm while Alana silently laid on the cot, refusing to utter a single word or even look at him. Despite the coldness, he still coveted this time. She was his mate no matter what sin she'd committed. That would never change.
"Trinity wants to compete," he said, leaning over, trying to catch a glimpse of her eyes. Alana reacted then, pulling the thin wool blanket tighter around her, shielding her face from his view. Boris sighed, staring at the floor. "I don't know if I should stop her... she's lost so many things. I worry what would happen if I took it away."
He couldn't imagine stealing what little joy his daughter had managed to find, especially knowing the weight of what her life had in store. "I have to go."
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. There was no response. He stood and made his way out, the cell door heavy as it swung shut behind him.
Alana turned her head just in time to see Boris's retreating back disappear through the hallway. She had been listening to every word, and what caught her interest the most was the mention of Trinity competing in the warrior exams. She wondered if that would be enough to cause Trinity to shift completely. The stress of the exam... it could work.
Closing her eyes, Alana let a small, dark smile touch her lips. She let the darkness take over.
Darkness took over Trinity's vision for a second as she stumbled, momentarily dazed.
"Again!" Raven's voice barked through the clearing.
They had been at it for hours, Raven guiding Trinity through drill after drill, making sure she was ready for the next Warrior exam.
"Just give me a second," Trinity gasped, clutching her head as darkness threatened to take her under.
"Ten, nine, eight..." Raven called out mercilessly. She didn't let up for even a heartbeat. "Seven, six, five..."
Trinity's world narrowed to a single point of focus. To Trinity, it wasn't a sprint—it was an impulse. One moment she was standing ten feet away, and the next, the ground beneath her feet had simply changed. She didn't feel the transition, only the sudden, jarring stop as she reappeared behind Raven, her fist already swinging on instinct.
From Raven's perspective, the girl didn't run. One second Trinity was there, and in the blink of an eye, the space she occupied was empty. She was a glitch in the light, a ghost reappearing in Raven's blind spot without a sound.
Raven spun, her forearm blocking Trinity's strike with a bone-jarring thud. "Fast," Raven grunted, her eyes tracking the air where Trinity had just been. "But predictable."
Raven lunged, a high roundhouse kick aimed at Trinity's temple. Trinity saw the kick coming and stepped out of its range, her body flickering away in a blur of speed and reappearing five meters back, her knees bent and her chest heaving.
"Just give me a second," Trinity pleaded again, the world tilting. Moving that fast felt like her soul was trying to outpace her skin.
Raven ignored her. She closed the gap instantly, but she didn't lead with a punch. In one fluid motion, she scooped a handful of dry, silt-heavy earth and flung it.
"Gah!" Trinity recoiled, her hands flying to her face. The grit exploded into her eyes, blinding her instantly. She was completely incapacitated by the stinging heat; every time she blinked, it was like sandpaper gliding across her eyes.
Distracted by the pain, Trinity didn't see the follow-up. Raven's palm slammed into her shoulder, the force sending her sprawling into the dirt.
Coughing and spitting out more dust, Trinity glared up at Raven through watery, red eyes. "Do you really think someone is going to throw dirt in my eyes while trying to take off my head?!"
"I would," Raven said, her voice flat and devoid of apology. She didn't offer a hand to help her up. "I've already participated in the exams. And if I was paired against you? Yes, without a doubt, I would throw dirt in your eyes again."
Raven didn't mince her words. The participants in the exam would be just as ruthless as she was. All of them were fighting for the pride of their packs. This was the testing grounds to see if you could ascend past your birth and bloodline. An outstanding performance could catapult you into the upper echelons of pack society.
Raven watched Trinity struggle to her feet. She had already found the flaws in Trinity's abilities. "Your speed makes you a hard target. But you're hitting like a human, not a wolf. If you can't trigger your wolf's strength at will, you're just a fast human waiting to be caught."
Trinity clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as she shook off the last of the grit. "I know."
Raven dropped back into a fighting stance, her expression unyielding.
" Again."