Hope's POV.
The sun hangs low in the sky, filtering through the canopy of trees and casting golden beams across the training field — a secluded clearing on the edge of pack territory. It's quiet but tense, the kind of silence that comes before a storm.
I stand in the center, sweat already clinging to my skin, my muscles taut with anticipation. Across from me, Sarah rolls her shoulders, her stance relaxed but ready. There's steel in her eyes — cold, calculated, unyielding.
“Again,” She snaps, already moving before I can prepare.
I barely dodge the sweep of her leg, stumbling to the side before regaining my balance. I duck low, trying to counter, but Sarah is faster. She grabs my wrist, twists, and in a heartbeat, I'm on my back, breath whooshing from my lungs.
“You hesitate,” Sarah growls, towering over me. “Hunters won’t give you that luxury.”
I cough and push myself up, anger flaring in my chest — not at Sarah, but at myself. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Sarah’s voice isn't cruel — it
