Chapter 5

The training field is already full when I find it. Figures I'd be the one circling the academy twice before realizing I was going the wrong way.

I step through the gates just as the instructor's voice cuts across the field.

"Late." he bellows.

Every head turns, but I don’t react.

"Just on time," I correct stifling a smirk.

A few students snort. The instructor definitely does not.

The instructor is huge. Tall and muscular with ice blue eyes. His gaze drags over me once with a look I can't place. Shame? Disgust? Unease? Like he might kill me?

"Find a place." he says, dismissing me.

I stalk over and stand next to Seyla. If I'm going to be here at all, I might as well not be here alone if I can help it. She gives me a soft smile and then turns her head towards the instructor.

The instructor at the center of the training field does not raise his voice, yet it carries cleanly across the training field. "I am Instructor Draven," he said, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze cutting through the line of first-years like a blade.

"This is not a class you pass by attendance or charm. It is a class you survive." A faint breeze stirred the banners above as he continued, calm and unyielding. "Here, you will learn to fight—without a beast to hide behind, without allies to save you, and without the lies you tell yourselves about who you are. Steel, body, and instinct. You will break habits, bones if necessary, and whatever illusions you carried through those gates. Some of you will earn skill. Fewer will earn control. And those who cannot learn either... will not remain." He paused, letting the silence settle heavy in their chests.

"The beasts will see what you truly are soon enough. My job is to deem those worthy of having the opportunity to bond."

Goosebumps rise over my entire body. I shiver.

I don't look right away. I don't need to. I already know.

My body betrays my brain and looks anyways.

Callan stands near the edge of the field with a group of older students, with their beasts lurking beside them. All of them, beasts and students alike, awaiting to observe the class.

He watches the other students, stepping in occasionally to correct a stance or reposition someone's grip with short, clipped instructions. Like he belongs in charge.

And beside him stands his beast. A wolf.

Massive. Black fur that seems to swallow the light around it. Too still. Too quiet. Its eyes are locked on the field.

Then on me. My steps slow. Just slightly. The wolf doesn't move. It doesn't react. It just watches. Like I’m its prey to stalk.

I look away hoping that I'm overreacting.

"Pair up!" instructor Draven calls. He turns to me and Seyla and points.

"You two do not pair up. I want to see what Inmate Thalorien can really do." he smirks. Great. I knew my last name would cause issues for me, but I did not foresee myself becoming a target because of it.

Seyla offers me a small smile before pairing up with a tall, red-haired woman behind us. Students move quickly around us, falling into place like they've done this a hundred times before.

"Thalorien."

I look up. Instructor Draven jerks his chin toward a guy already stepping forward. He's bigger and stronger. Tattoos line his veiny arms. His hair buzzed in a way that makes him look like a warrior in training. Confident in a way I'm not. Great.

"Try not to die," Draven adds coldly.

"Ready?" my opponent asks with a smirk.

"No." I mutter.

Before I can blink, he attacks anyway. Clean and swiftly. I barely dodge the first hit, twisting out of range just before his fist connects with my ribs. My body reacts on instinct, years of survival taking over where training doesn't exist.

He presses harder. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't hold back.

I move lower, faster, striking where he won't expect. He blocks, barely, and counters hard enough to send me stumbling back.

Pain shoots up my arm. I ignore it, because I don’t have another choice but. He's stronger. So I don't fight strength. I fight smart. I fight dirty.

I bait him forward, and wait for the shift in his balance.

Then I slip past and drive my elbow into his side. He grunts. I put all my strength into driving my fist into his face. Pain shoots up my arm after connecting my fist to his face. I stumble back but he doesn't falter.

He swings. I duck. I kick his knee cap with as much strength as I can muster and he stumbles. I take him down hard into the dirt. My time in Skyless Keep has taught me grit and scrappiness. Maybe not the most impressive way of fighting, but it's effective.

For a second it's just silence. Heart beating loudly in my ears. I don't move yet. I’m too afraid of what comes next. But then, movement. Not from my opponent though. From behind. I barely have time to turn before something slams into me.

Another body. Another hit. Harder this time.

I go down with the breath knocked from my lungs. I’m dizzy before even hitting the ground. Shit.

"Thought you were tough," one of them sneers.

Two on one. Lovely. And this is what I get for being a Thalorien.

I roll just in time to avoid a strike to my face, scrambling back to my feet, but they're already closing in again. No rules or fairness.

I duck one hit, take another to the shoulder that sends pain exploding through my arm and back, and still manage to drive my fist into someone's jaw hard enough to snap his head back.

But they don't stop. They don't hesitate. And I'm already slowing.

A hit lands. Then another. And another. I don't even know where the hits are coming from anymore.

My vision blurs for half a second. Stars forming in my eyes and blood dripping off of my face.

"Enough—" Draven's voice cuts through, but no one stops. Of course they don't. Why would they?

I take another hit, this one sending me hard into the dirt again, breath leaving my lungs in a sharp, painful rush.

I try to push up anyway, but before I can move, someone steps in. The scent of honey and cinnamon fill my nose immediately. Luca.

He drives into one of them without hesitation, shoving him back hard enough to create space between us.

"Back off," he snaps, not smiling for once in his life.

Seyla is right behind him, stepping between me and the second attacker, her stance calm but unmovable.

"This isn't a group exercise," she says coolly.

The tension shifts. Just slightly. I don't miss the way my attackers dipped their chins and listened to the twins.

I suck in a breath, pushing myself to my feet again, ignoring the way my body protests every movement. I falter for a moment, but quickly recover before anyone notices.

"I had it," I mutter.

Luca glances at me. There's a flicker of something there. Concern? Pity?

"Yeah," he says lightly, though his eyes say otherwise. "Looked like it."

I wipe blood from my lip with the back of my hand.

"Next time, stay out of it." I huff. They just saved my life and I can't keep my assholeness away for even a moment? Great.

"Noted," he says, but he doesn't mean it.

Draven finally steps forward, voice sharp.

"Enough. Bentley and Otto— Hammer drills for the rest of class. I do not tolerate dirty fights" he yells loudly. Too loudly for my throbbing head. Though if he didn't tolerate dirty fights, why didn't he stop it?

Students pull back. But I feel it again. That shift. That weight. I don't need to look. Why should I? I know it's him again.

If he is anything like this father, then I bet he enjoyed the show.

I turn and glance anyways, and his gaze is fixed.

Not at the fight. Not at the others. At me. As breathtaking as he is, he is the son of a monster. And I don't know what he wants from me. What more could he possibly take? I glare at him radiating my anger in his direction.

His expression is unreadable. But there's something there. Something sharper. His gaze flicks—just briefly—to where Luca stands closely beside me, still in a guarding stance.

And something in his gaze darkens. Beside him, the wolf has shifted. Not much, but just enough that I noticed. Its body angled slightly forward now. He looks alert and focused. On me? Or on Luca? I can't tell, and I don't like either option.

"Again," Draven says.

I straighten. Ignore the pain. Ignore the blood. Ignore the way my body feels like it's been torn apart. And step back into position.

Because I didn't survive five years in a cage just to fall apart here. I will not survive to escape if I do not keep it together. I will not allow the other students to see my weakness. I’m already a target.

Suddenly, someone walking towards me breaking me of my thoughts. Callan and his giant wolf stalk towards me, but Callan does not even look in my direction. But as he gets close, he leans closer to me. His minty scent taking over the once sweet honey smell.

“Careful inmate. You almost impressed me this time.” He whispers with a smirk on his face as he walks away.

I can’t help but stare as he walks away as his bonded stalks next to him.