Lena did not expect training to begin with silence.
There was no announcement. No ceremony. No formal declaration made before the pack. The Alpha simply returned the next morning and told her to follow him.
That was all.
They walked beyond the outer halls of the stronghold, past places Lena had never been allowed to step foot in, into the lower grounds where the forest pressed close and the stone thinned into earth. Morning fog clung low to the ground, damp and cold against her ankles.
She stayed a careful distance behind him.
Old habits were difficult to shed.
"This is not punishment," the Alpha said without turning around.
"I know," Lena replied, though she wasn't sure she truly did.
They stopped in a clearing ringed with ancient trees. The earth here was packed firm, worn smooth by generations of wolves shifting, training, failing, trying again. There were no weapons laid out. No spectators.
Just space.
"Stand there," he said, gesturing to the center.
Lena obeyed.
"Breathe," he added.
She hesitated. Then did.
The Alpha circled her slowly—not predatory, not threatening. Observing. Measuring. His presence pressed outward, subtle but undeniable, and Lena felt her wolf stir uneasily beneath her skin.
"You've been holding yourself in for a very long time," he said.
She swallowed. "I had to."
"I know."
The acknowledgment settled heavier than judgment ever had.
"Close your eyes," he instructed.
Lena did.
Immediately, panic flared. Darkness had never meant safety for her. Darkness meant locks and waiting and being forgotten. Her breath quickened despite herself.
"Open them if you need to," the Alpha said calmly. "Nothing here will trap you."
She forced herself to stay still.
"Tell me," he continued, "what you feel."
"I don't know," she admitted. "Too much. And nothing."
A pause.
"That's honest," he said. "And expected."
He stopped in front of her. She felt it even with her eyes closed—the way the air tightened, the way her wolf leaned forward inside her like it was listening.
"You were taught to disappear," he said. "So your instincts learned to fold inward instead of outward."
Her throat burned.
"That doesn't mean they're gone."
She opened her eyes.
He was watching her carefully now, something intent in his gaze.
"Shift your weight," he said. "Not your body. Your awareness."
She frowned slightly. "I don't understand."
"That's all right," he replied. "Most don't, at first."
He raised a hand—not threatening, not commanding. Just present.
"Feel the ground," he said. "Not with your feet. With your wolf."
Lena hesitated.
Then—tentatively—she listened.
At first, there was nothing but her own heartbeat. Then… something else. A low hum beneath the surface. The steady pulse of the earth. Roots winding deep. Life moving quietly where no one was looking.
Her breath slowed.
"There," the Alpha murmured. "You feel it."
Her eyes widened slightly. "I—yes."
"Good. Now don't chase it."
She almost laughed. "I wouldn't know how."
"That's exactly why you mustn't," he said.
He stepped closer.
The pressure of his presence increased—not forceful, but undeniable. Lena's wolf bristled instinctively, a flash of awareness rippling through her.
She stiffened.
"Easy," he said. "Let it rise. Don't push it back."
Her hands trembled.
Every instinct she had screamed to shrink. To lower her gaze. To make herself smaller.
She didn't.
Instead, she stayed.
The feeling grew—warmth spreading through her chest, down her arms, steady and strong. Not violent. Not wild.
Alive.
The Alpha's brows lifted just slightly.
"That," he said quietly, "is power that has learned restraint."
Lena swallowed. "Is that bad?"
"No," he answered immediately. "It's rare."
She exhaled shakily.
They trained like that for hours.
No strikes. No commands barked sharp. Just awareness, grounding, learning how to stand without apology. How to take up space without asking permission.
Each time her focus wavered, each time fear crept back in, the Alpha corrected gently—not with dominance, but with clarity.
By the time the sun climbed high, Lena's limbs ached and her head swam—but something inside her felt steadier than it ever had before.
They stopped near the edge of the clearing.
"You did well," the Alpha said.
The words startled her.
"I didn't do anything," she said honestly.
He met her gaze. "You stayed."
That night, Lena returned to the small room she'd been given—no lock on the inside. No shadows pressing close.
She sat on the bed and flexed her hands, feeling the quiet strength humming beneath her skin.
For the first time, she didn't feel like she was waiting to be erased.
She felt like she was becoming.