Luna in training

Chapter Three: Luna-in-Training

The training yard echoed with the sound of fists striking wood and bodies slamming into dirt. Morning drills had ended, but the air still throbbed with the leftover energy of wolves too eager to prove themselves.

Emry stood at the edge of the sparring ring, a ledger tucked under her arm, watching as two groups of pack members argued heatedly near the racks of practice weapons.

“You get the yard every morning,” one of the younger wolves snapped, his voice cracking with frustration. “We never get a chance to train properly. How are we supposed to be ready for patrols if we’re shoved aside like pups?”

An older warrior snarled back, “Because pups don’t need the yard. Warriors do. You’ll earn your place when you’re worth it.”

The shouts swelled, bodies crowding closer, the scent of aggression thick in the air.

Emry stepped forward, planting herself between the groups before tempers snapped into violence. “That’s enough.”

Her voice wasn’t Alpha-deep like Eastin’s, but it carried the sharp edge of command. For a moment, silence fell. All eyes shifted to her, some with skepticism, others with open challenge.

“You want time in the yard?” she said, sweeping her gaze over the younger wolves. “Then you’ll have it. Mornings alternate between the warriors and trainees. That way everyone gets what they need.”

Murmurs rose at once, some approving, others doubtful. But before Emry could secure the decision, a low voice cut through from the shadows of the training posts.

“Compromise doesn’t make warriors.”

Braxton stepped into the light, shirtless from his own drills, sweat slicking the muscles of his chest and arms. His amber eyes burned, not at the pack—but at her.

The tension in the yard shifted. Wolves straightened instinctively, glancing between their Beta and the Alpha’s sister.

Emry lifted her chin. “They deserve the chance to grow. Keeping them weak only keeps the pack weak.”

Braxton’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance, slow, deliberate. “And if they falter during patrol because they’re not ready? If one of them gets someone killed because they were too busy sharing instead of mastering discipline?”

“They’ll falter more if they’re never given the chance,” Emry shot back, her voice steady though her heart raced.

The younger wolves behind her straightened, emboldened by her words.

Braxton stopped just a step away, his presence looming, his gaze searing into hers. For a heartbeat, the whole yard held its breath.

Finally, he spoke, softer this time but just as sharp. “Your compassion will get them killed.”

“And your arrogance will tear this pack apart,” she whispered back, not flinching.

The air between them crackled, fury and something far more dangerous simmering just beneath the surface.

From the balcony above, Eastin’s voice carried down, calm but heavy with authority. “That’s enough.”

Both Emry and Braxton turned upward to see their Alpha leaning against the railing, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hadn’t intervened until now—deliberately, she realized. He had been watching. Testing.

His gaze flicked between them. “The schedule stands. The yard will be shared. Emry speaks with my voice in this matter.”

Shock flickered across the older warriors’ faces. The younger wolves grinned triumphantly.

Braxton’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes burned hotter, locked on Emry’s.

She didn’t look away. Not this time.

Braxton kept his stance rigid, arms folded across his chest, though inside his wolf clawed against his ribs. Every word Emry had spoken had been sharp, sure—her chin lifted, her voice steady. She had looked him in the eye and hadn’t backed down, not even when the weight of the entire yard pressed on her.

Moon above, she didn’t even know what that did to him.

Eastin’s judgment still hung heavy in the air, settling the dispute, silencing the pack. One by one, the wolves dispersed, muttering under their breath as the tension bled out of the yard. But Braxton’s focus stayed locked on her.

Her green eyes sparked with defiance, her auburn hair catching the sunlight as if the moonlight had decided to claim her even in day. She had stood her ground—and she had won.

And yet… she still didn’t see it. She didn’t see how fragile the line was between her confidence and her doubt. How much the pack sniffed for cracks in her resolve.

She didn’t see how easily hesitation could kill.

He took a step closer, close enough that only she would hear. His voice was low, a rasp more growl than words. “You made the right call.”

Her eyes widened, suspicion flickering there. She waited for the bite, the insult, the usual poison he laced into every exchange.

Braxton let the silence stretch, then leaned in slightly, his lips near her ear. “But don’t ever falter when you speak it. Don’t look for their approval. Don’t look for mine. When you choose, you stand. No cracks. No second guessing. That’s what makes a Luna.”

Her breath hitched, so soft he almost missed it.

For one dangerous heartbeat, he let himself linger in her scent—wildflowers and smoke, sharp with adrenaline. His wolf surged, snarling for him to close the distance, to claim what was already his.

He stepped back instead, jaw tight, burying it all.

Emry’s glare snapped back into place, masking whatever flicker of uncertainty had passed through her. “I don’t need your lessons, Braxton.”

He almost smiled, but it was bitter, humorless. “Then don’t give me reason to teach them.”

Her eyes narrowed, fire sparking, but before she could answer, Eastin’s voice called again from the balcony above. The Alpha was watching still, and Braxton felt the weight of his gaze like a blade at his spine.

Braxton turned away first, forcing his wolf into silence, though every instinct screamed otherwise.

He knew she hated him. He knew she thought his every word was a challenge meant to undermine her. Maybe she even believed that’s all it was.

Good. Let her. Better she hated him than learned how desperately he wanted her safe.

Better she thought him cruel than ever saw how badly his wolf burned for her.