Veyra’s POV
I stare at the screen, my hands tightening in my lap. Of all the rogues they could have chosen, they picked the ones least suited for this. Caelan and Aeron may not be cruel, but they’re wild, barely tethered even on their best days. They’re also the two who seemed most focused on pleasing me, always doing everything they could to gain my attention. That doesn’t make them safe, especially not in this kind of test.
The horn blares, sharp and shrill, and the feed cuts to the Omegas rushing through the treeline. The countdown flashes in the corner of the screen, ticking down from sixty, and the rogues begin to pace, muscles coiled and impatient.
They’re starting from opposite ends of the arena. The Omegas are meant to run toward where the rogues began. If this goes the way I hope, they’ll meet somewhere in the middle, and the rogues will scent them, claim them, maybe even protect them. But if it doesn’t go well... I close my eyes and exhale slowly.
It has to go well.
The brut
