CHAPTER FOUR: BROKEN THINGS 

Training with Daren was brutal.

"Again," he said, standing over me while I gasped for air on the ground.

"I can't," I wheezed. "I need a break."

"Moontide warriors won't give you a break. They'll kill you while you're gasping for air." He extended a hand. "Get up."

It had been three days since I'd agreed to help him. Three days of non-stop training that made me question every life choice I'd ever made. Elena had cleared me medically, saying my wounds were healed enough for light activity.

Daren's definition of "light activity" was apparently trying to kill me.

We were in the training yard, a large open space surrounded by the compound walls. Other rogues trained nearby, but they gave us a wide berth. Apparently, everyone knew better than to interrupt when Daren was teaching.

I took his hand and let him pull me up. My entire body ached. My wolf was exhausted. But I'd be damned if I'd quit.

"You're too slow," Daren said, circling me like a predator. "You telegraph every move. Any decent fighter would see you coming a mile away."

"Maybe because I was never trained to fight," I snapped. "Female wolves in Moontide are taught to heal and nurture, not kill."

"That's because pack Alphas like to keep their females weak and dependent. Makes them easier to control." His eyes flashed. "But you're not pack anymore. You're rogue. And rogues who can't fight don't survive."

He moved suddenly, a strike aimed at my head. I barely blocked it.

"Better," he said. "But still too slow. Again."

He came at me relentlessly for the next hour. Strike, block, dodge, counter. Over and over until my muscles screamed and my lungs burned. But slowly, painfully, I started to get faster. Started to see the patterns in his movements.

Finally, he called a halt.

"Enough for today. You're improving."

I collapsed onto a bench, gulping water. "You're a terrible teacher. You know that, right?"

"I'm an effective teacher. There's a difference." He sat beside me, barely winded despite the hour of intense training. "Pain is the best teacher. You'll remember these lessons when your life depends on it."

"Is that how you learned? Through pain?"

His face went carefully blank. "Yes."

"Who taught you?"

"Lots of people. Mercenaries, mostly. Former military. Anyone who knew how to kill efficiently." He looked at his hands. "I was ten when I started learning. Scrawny kid with too much anger and no skills. They beat the skills into me."

"That sounds awful."

"It was necessary. I had a purpose—revenge. Everything else was just preparation." He stood. "Come on. We're done with physical training for today. Now we work on the other skills you'll need."

He led me to a building at the far end of the compound. Inside was a room set up like an office, with a desk, chairs, and papers scattered everywhere.

"Information gathering," Daren said. "This is just as important as fighting, maybe more. You need to learn what to look for, what questions to ask, how to remember details."

For the next several hours, he drilled me on Moontide's layout, the names and ranks of important wolves, the patrol schedules I remembered. He made me draw maps from memory, correcting me when I got details wrong.

"How do you know all this?" I asked. "You've never been inside Moontide territory."

"I've had spies before. Some successful, some not. The unsuccessful ones at least gave me information before they died." His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather, not dead spies.

"What happened to them?"

"They were discovered. Tortured. Killed." He looked at me steadily. "That's the risk you're taking, Shahira. I won't lie to you about it. If Kane finds out what you're doing, your death will not be quick or merciful."

"Then why are you sending me in? Why not just attack with your army?"

"Because I don't have an army. I have maybe a hundred rogues, half of them trained. Moontide has five hundred warriors, plus alliances with three other packs. A direct assault would be suicide." He leaned against the desk. "No, this needs to be surgical. I need to know their defenses, their weak points, their secrets. And I need someone on the inside when I'm ready to strike."

"What are you looking for, specifically?"

"Everything. But mostly, I need to know about their alliances. Kane is meeting with Alpha Marcus of Silverfang Pack in two weeks. I need to know what they're planning."

"How do you know about the meeting?"

He smiled slightly. "I have my sources. Not everyone in Moontide is loyal to Kane."

That surprised me. "You have wolves inside already?"

"One. Low-level. Can't access high-security information. But he can get you in the door."

"Who?"

"You'll meet him when the time comes. For now, focus on preparation." He pulled out a folder and opened it. "These are recent photos of Moontide's leadership. I know you know them but study them. Memorize every face again. You need to know who's who."

I looked through the photos. Kane, looking as cruel as ever. Ryker, arrogant and cold. Vanessa, beautiful and false. The Beta, Marcus Greyson—Vanessa's father. The various warriors and ranked wolves.

My chest tightened when I saw Ryker's photo. The mate bond was gone, but the pain of rejection was still fresh.

"Does it still hurt?" Daren asked quietly.

I glanced up, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. "Every day."

"It will, for a while. Rejected mate bonds leave scars." He looked away. "But scars make us stronger."

"Have you ever had a mate?"

"No. The ritual that gave me my power also made it unlikely I'd ever find one. The wolf spirits inside me don't call to other wolves the same way." He shrugged. "It's fine. Mates are a weakness anyway."

"That's a lonely way to think."

"Lonely is safe. Lonely means no one can betray you."

I studied him, seeing the walls he'd built around himself. A lifetime of revenge had left him isolated, surrounded by people but truly close to no one.

"Elena cares about you," I said. "I can tell."

"Elena knew me before. She was there when..." He stopped, jaw tight. "She's different."

"Before what?"

"Before I became this." He gestured at himself. "She remembers the child I was, not the weapon I became. Sometimes I think that's why I keep her around—to remind myself I was human once."

"You're still human."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Am I? I have three hundred wolves living inside me, Shahira. They rage, they hurt, they hunger for justice and the blood of their enemies; they have opinions and rarely agree on one thing. Some days I don't know where they end and I begin."

It was the most vulnerable thing I'd heard him say. For just a moment, the cold, calculating warrior disappeared, and I saw the broken man underneath.

"You're human," I repeated firmly. "Broken, maybe. Damaged, possibly. But human. Monsters don't give people choices. Monsters don't care about innocents. Monsters don't doubt themselves." I met his eyes. "You're not a monster, Daren. You're just someone who's been hurt badly and is trying to make it right."

He stared at me for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, but it was fleeting.

"You should get some rest," he said finally.

He walked out, leaving me alone with the photos of my former pack.

I picked up Ryker's picture and stared at it. Once upon a time, I'd loved this face. Would have died for him. Now, all I felt was cold determination.

You threw me away, I thought. Now I'm going to make you regret it.

I put the photo down and left the room. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. Other rogues were finishing their training, laughing and talking as they headed to the dining hall.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than pain and despair.

I felt purpose.