CHAPTER ELEVEN: SOMETHING SHIFTS 

Training continued for three more days.

Each session, I got stronger, faster, more confident. Daren pushed me relentlessly, but I pushed back. We fell into a rhythm—attack and counter, strike and block, a deadly dance that left us both exhausted.

But something was changing between us.

It started small. The way his hand would linger when he helped me up. The way his eyes would track me across the training yard. The way he'd pause sometimes, mid-instruction, and just look at me like he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before.

And I wasn't immune either. I found myself watching him when he demonstrated techniques. Admiring the way he moved, all controlled power and lethal grace. Noticing details—the scar on his jaw, the way his eyes softened when he smiled, which was rare, the sound of his laugh when I actually managed to land a hit on him.

"You're distracted," he said on the third day, pinning me easily.

"I'm tired."

"You're distracted," he repeated. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

You, I almost said. You're going on in my head and I don't know what to do about it.

But instead I said, "I'm worried about the mission. About going back."

It wasn't entirely a lie.

He released me and sat back. "Talk to me. What specifically worries you?"

"Kane. He's not stupid. If I show up again, he'll know something is off."

"That's why we're building a believable story. You were recaptured by me, tortured for information, and you broke. You told me everything about Moontide's defenses. Now you're trying to 'escape' back to them to warn them."

"But they'll know I'm lying."

"Maybe. Or maybe they'll think you're broken enough to be honest. Either way, you'll be inside their territory, and that's what matters." He stood and offered me his hand. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."

I took his hand—noticing again how warm it was, how strong—and let him pull me up.

He led me through the compound to a building I hadn't been in before. Inside was an armory, walls lined with weapons of every type.

"Choose one," he said.

"What?"

"If you're going back into enemy territory, you need a weapon you're comfortable with. Something that feels like an extension of yourself." He walked along the wall, running his fingers over various blades. "When I was sixteen and just starting this path, my mentor told me that a warrior without the right weapon is like a wolf without claws. Incomplete."

I looked at the options. Swords, knives, staffs, even guns. But one weapon caught my eye—a pair of curved daggers, not too long, perfectly balanced.

I picked them up and they felt right in my hands. Natural.

"Good choice," Daren said. "Dual wielding takes skill, but it suits you. Fast, aggressive, unpredictable."

He took his own weapons—two short swords—and we sparred with them. It was different with real weapons, even if we pulled our strikes. More intense. More dangerous.

More intimate.

At one point, he had me pinned against the wall, his swords crossed over my daggers, our faces inches apart. We were both breathing hard, sweat gleaming on our skin.

"If this were real," he said quietly, "you'd be dead."

"If this were real," I replied, "I wouldn't fight fair."

I demonstrated by bringing my knee up toward his groin. He blocked it, but the movement made him shift, and I slipped free.

He laughed—a real laugh, full and genuine. "Clever."

"You taught me to use every advantage."

"So I did."

We continued, and I noticed he was smiling more, the cold mask he usually wore slipping. And I was smiling too, despite the exhaustion and the danger ahead.

For a little while, we weren't the Human Alpha and his spy. We were just two people, fighting and laughing and alive.

When we finally stopped, the sun was setting outside.

"You'll do fine," Daren said, putting his swords away. "You're ready."

"Thanks to you."

"You were always strong, Shahira. You just didn't know it." He turned to look at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "Ryker was a fool to reject you."

"He thought I was weak."

"He was projecting. Weak men see weakness everywhere because they can't stand to acknowledge their own." Daren moved closer. "You're not weak. You're one of the strongest people I've met."

My heart raced. "Daren—"

"I need to tell you something," he said. "Before you go back. Before things get more complicated."

"What?"

He seemed to struggle with the words, which was unusual for him. Finally, he said, "I feel something when I'm with you. Something I haven't felt in... maybe ever. And I need to know if you feel it too, or if I'm imagining it."

I could barely breathe. "You're not imagining it."

The air between us crackled with tension. He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"This is a bad idea," he said quietly. "You're my operative. I'm your commander. Getting involved would complicate everything."

"I know."

"And you're still healing from Ryker's rejection. You might be mistaking gratitude for something else."

"I'm not."

"Shahira—"

I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

For a moment, he froze. Then he responded, his arms coming around me, pulling me close. The kiss was intense, desperate, like we'd both been holding back for too long.

When we finally broke apart, we were both shaking.

"This is still a bad idea," he said, but his arms didn't release me.

"Probably the worst."

"You're going into enemy territory in two days. If they suspect we're involved, they'll use it against you."

"Then we'll be careful."

He laughed softly. "Careful. Right." He cupped my face in his hands, his touch gentle despite his strength. "I don't do this, Shahira. I don't let people in. I can't afford to care about anyone because everyone I care about becomes a target."

"Too late," I said. "You already care."

"Yeah. I really do." He kissed me again, softer this time. "Which is why you need to promise me something."

"What?"

"If things go wrong, if Kane figures it out, you run. You don't try to be a hero, you don't sacrifice yourself for the mission. You run, and you let me get you out."

"Daren—"

"Promise me."

I saw the fear in his eyes. Real fear. The kind that came from losing people before.

"I promise," I whispered.

He held me close, and we stood there in the armory as darkness fell outside. Tomorrow, final preparations would begin. The day after, I'd go back to Moontide, into the heart of enemy territory.

But tonight, for just a few hours, I let myself have this. Let myself feel safe in his arms. Let myself care about someone who cared about me back.

Even if it was a terrible idea.

Even if it could get us both killed.

Some things were worth the risk.