Kael’s Point Of View
The clang of fists meeting flesh echoed across the clearing like music I’d heard my whole life.
Dirt kicked up beneath heavy boots. Muscles strained. Grunts and curses filled the air, weaving through the sharp scent of sweat, leather, and the ever-present bite of wolf just beneath the skin.
Training.
Good. Hard. Brutal.
Just how I liked it.
I stood with my arms crossed at the edge of the makeshift ringl an uneven patch of flattened dirt surrounded by makeshift torches and weapons racks. The rogues training today were vicious. Lean with hunger, mean with years of running, and strong because life had never handed them anything soft.
And that’s exactly why I respected them.
I watched one of my men, a tall, brutish bastard named Kade slam another across the clearing, dust exploding around the impact like ash after a battlefield. A low growl of approval rumbled from my chest.
This was good.
This was order.
Then I heard Riven’s boots crunch behind me.
“Alpha,” he said,
