CHAPTER 2

Torin POV

"How long are we expected to bake in this armor before Lachlan lets us eat?" Wesley grumbled, his voice a low hiss near Torin's ear.

Torin didn't blink, keeping his posture rigid as his enforcer boots locked against the scorched concrete of the Silverpine Academy training yard. "Shut up, Wes, before Lachlan catches you whining like an untrained pup."

Wesley shifted his weight, his tactical vest creaking in the dry midday heat. "Look at him up there on the dais. The man is practically salivating thinking about the post-ceremony feast."

Torin let out a quiet breath through his nose, keeping his amber eyes fixed straight ahead. His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, agitated by the stifling heat and the heavy leather of his Delta gear. Across the wide parade ground, rows of newly graduated pack enforcers stood at strict attention, waiting for their permanent postings.

The air shimmered with heatwaves rising off the stone, smelling faintly of pine resin and ozone. Torin flexed his fingers inside his tactical gloves, feeling the familiar, grounding weight of his hunting knife strapped to his thigh.

"Focus, Calder," Torin muttered, his jaw tightening. "We didn't claw our way to the top of our graduating class just to get sidelined on day one."

"Easy for you to say, Westlake," Wesley whispered back, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You've got ice in your veins."

Before Wesley could say another word, Commander Lachlan Redford stepped up to the center of the wooden podium. The low murmur of restless enforcers died instantly under the weight of Lachlan's commanding Alpha presence. The older wolf surveyed the rows of young recruits with a hard, unyielding expression.

"At ease," Lachlan barked, his voice carrying effortlessly across the entire yard.

Torin rolled his shoulders back, letting his muscles relax by a fraction of an inch while maintaining absolute alertness. His wolf pricked its ears internally, sensing a shift in the air.

"You have all endured months of brutal combat drills, tactical tracking exercises, and endurance trials designed to break the weak," Lachlan continued, pacing slowly behind the podium. "Most of you will be assigned to standard border patrols or regional watch posts starting tomorrow."

Wesley let out a subtle sigh of relief next to Torin, clearly expecting a routine post.

Torin narrowed his eyes. Something in Lachlan's tone didn't fit a standard border assignment. The commander's posture was too rigid, his scent carrying a sharp spike of urgency.

"However," Lachlan raised his voice, his gaze locking directly onto Torin and Wesley in the front row, "the top two graduates of this class have already been selected for a classified, high-stakes assignment outside our standard jurisdiction."

A ripple of whispers swept through the ranks of graduating pack students behind them.

Torin's chest tightened. His wolf surged forward in his mind, scenting danger and opportunity all at once.

"Torin Westlake and Wesley Calder," Lachlan called out sharply. "Step forward."

Torin didn't hesitate. He snapped his heels together, stepped out of formation, and marched two precise paces forward with Wesley right beside him.

"Sir," Torin spoke clearly, meeting Lachlan's scrutinizing stare head-on.

"At ease, Westlake," Lachlan said, lowering his voice as he leaned slightly over the podium. "You two are being pulled from standard rotation immediately. Pack Intelligence has intercepted disturbing chatter originating from the Blackthorn Rogue Pack."

Torin felt the air leave his lungs. Dashiell Blackthorn and his rogue enforcers. The name alone tasted like ash and copper.

"Rogues?" Wesley muttered under his breath, his eyes widening slightly. "I thought Dashiell's pack was operating out of the southern badlands."

"They were," Lachlan replied grimly, tossing a heavy leather folder onto the podium. "Intelligence indicates they have pushed north, targeting high-ranking pack estates under the radar. Specifically, they have set their sights on the Ashbourne Pack."

Torin's heart hammered against his ribs. The Ashbourne Pack was elite, wealthy, and heavily guarded. If rogues were infiltrating their territory, it meant a war was brewing right on the doorstep of the Silverpine borders.

"What are our orders?" Torin demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register that made his wolf proud.

Lachlan picked up the dossier and slid it across the wooden surface toward Torin. "Your assignment is a deep-cover protection detail. You will report directly to Alpha Ashbourne's estate by nightfall."

Wesley blinked, glancing sideways at Torin. "A protection detail? For a senator's—for an Alpha's family?"

"Not just any family member," Lachlan corrected, his expression grim. "You are being assigned as personal shadows to the Alpha's daughter. Bexley Ashbourne."

Torin took the heavy leather file in his hand, his thumb brushing against the embossed seal of the Ashbourne Pack. "Why her?"

"Because Dashiell Blackthorn has taken a personal, obsessive interest in the young Luna-to-be," Lachlan stated flatly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "She was recently targeted during a night out in the city. Her former mate was killed, and she barely escaped with her life."

Torin's blood ran cold. The brutal reality of rogue violence hit him with the force of a physical blow. A she-wolf losing her mate was a tragedy beyond measure, a wound that could shatter an entire pack.

"Understood," Torin said, his fingers tightening around the dossier until the leather groaned. "We leave immediately."

"Good," Lachlan nodded approvingly, stepping back from the podium. "Dismissed."

Torin turned on his heel, motioning for Wesley to follow as they marched away from the graduation yard and toward the enforcer armory.

"A rogue alpha obsessed with an Ashbourne she-wolf," Wesley whispered as they hit the shaded stone pathway between the academy buildings. "This isn't a routine protection mission, Torin. This is a suicide watch."

"Then we make sure the rogues die before she does," Torin replied coldly.

They burst through the heavy oak doors of the armory, the cool indoor air a welcome relief from the baking sun. Rows of steel racks gleamed with silver-laced blades, tactical vests, and heavy-duty tracking communicators.

"Grab your gear," Torin ordered, unzipping his primary tactical bag and tossing it onto the metal sorting bench. "We need transport keys and civilian-grade concealment jackets. If we roll into the Ashbourne estate looking like full combat enforcers, we'll cause a panic."

Wesley nodded, pulling a rack of hunting knives toward him. "You think Blackthorn is already making moves on the estate?"

"I know he is," Torin said, his amber eyes narrowing as he strapped a heavy combat blade to his thigh. "Rogues don't hunt for sport. They hunt for dominance."

"And the girl?" Wesley asked, slipping a silver pistol into his shoulder holster. "How is she holding up after losing her mate?"

"She isn't," Torin said flatly. "A she-wolf torn from her first mate doesn't heal overnight. She's vulnerable, and Dashiell knows it."

The heavy steel door of the armory swung open behind them, but neither enforcer flinched. They moved with practiced synchronicity, checking ammunition clips, securing comms units, and loading heavy suppression rifles into the back of their unmarked transport vehicle.

"We roll out in five minutes," Torin instructed, pulling his black concealment jacket over his shoulders.

Before Wesley could answer, a sharp, piercing chime echoed through the armory.

Torin froze. It wasn't a standard pack communicator alert. It was a high-priority encrypted signal routed directly from the Alpha Council Estate.

Wesley dropped his knife onto the metal table, his eyes darting toward the wall-mounted console. "What is that?"

Torin didn't answer. He strode across the concrete floor, his boots echoing in the quiet room, and ripped the flashing red communicator off its wall dock. He pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Westlake," Torin barked into the mic.

For a second, there was only static and the sound of heavy, panicked breathing on the other end. Then a frantic voice broke through, raw with terror.

"This is Alpha Ashbourne. If you are receiving this frequency, you need to get to the estate now... she's gone."