CHAPTER 3

Torin POV

"You are seriously trading the front lines for a babysitting gig?" Wesley demanded, dropping his tactical vest onto the metal armory bench with a heavy clatter.

Torin didn't look up from the dense leather folder in his hands. "It is not a babysitting gig, Calder. It is a classified pack protection detail."

"They are handing you a troubled she-wolf who chews through guards faster than a starving rogue," Wesley scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Lachlan is burying you because you beat him in the combat trials."

Torin snapped the dossier shut, his amber eyes narrowing with sharp intensity. "Lachlan gave me a direct order, and he also guaranteed my pick of any elite patrol unit when this is over. Front line or whatever else I want."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Oh, so you sold your soul for a shiny promotion. What's her name again? The senator's—the Alpha's daughter?"

"Bexley Ashbourne," Torin stated, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.

"Right. The wild one," Wesley muttered, leaning against the rack of silver blades. "Word around the Silverpine Academy barracks is that she has already gotten three pack guards dismissed this month alone. She throws tantrums, breaks furniture, and refuses to follow any chain of command."

Torin flexed his jaw, feeling a restless spike of adrenaline race through his bloodline. "Then she has never dealt with a Westlake enforcer before."

"Just don't let her sink her claws into you too deep," Wesley warned, clapping a heavy hand onto Torin's shoulder. "Rogues like Dashiell Blackthorn already left enough blood on her hands. The last thing she needs is another dead partner."

Torin shrugged Wesley's hand off without a word, pulling his concealment jacket tighter across his broad shoulders. "My job is to keep her alive until she testifies against Blackthorn at the Alpha Council Estate. Nothing more."

"If you say so, Westlake," Wesley laughed, turning back to his own gear locker. "Enjoy your semester at the academy. Try not to get expelled before graduation."

Torin ignored the parting jab, turning on his heel and marching out of the armory into the cool evening air. The transport vehicle was waiting idling in the shadow of the training grounds, its engine humming with suppressed power. He climbed into the driver seat, tossed the heavy Ashbourne dossier onto the passenger seat, and pulled out onto the winding mountain road leading toward the Ashbourne Pack Estate.

The weight of the assignment pressed heavily against his chest. As an elite Delta enforcer, Torin lived for tactical precision, clean strikes, and absolute control. Babysitting an elite pack princess hiding from a psychotic rogue alpha felt like a demotion, a punishment disguised as an honor. Yet, as he flipped the file open to page one beneath the dashboard light, his breath hitched.

Bexley Ashbourne stared back at him from the photograph with a fierce, defiant glare. Her dark hair fell in messy waves around a face so striking it made his wolf stir restlessly beneath his skin. She wasn't wearing pack silks or formal Luna jewelry. Instead, she wore a simple black hoodie, her dark eyes flashing with a cold, wounded fury that instantly cut through his professional detachment.

Torin traced the edge of the paper with his thumb, his gaze scanning her disciplinary record. Expelled from four separate academies for violent outbursts, property destruction, and direct insubordination. Below that were the grim police notes detailing the night her former mate, Alden Fairwick, was murdered on the fire escape of The Black Moon Club while Dashiell Blackthorn watched and laughed.

The tragedy of it tasted like ash in Torin's mouth. In the werewolf world, losing a first mate was a spiritual and physical execution. The grief tore a wolf apart from the inside out, leaving behind a hollow shell of rage and survival instinct. Bexley hadn't just survived that night; she had been forged into a weapon of pure spite.

His comms unit crackled to life on the dashboard, breaking the heavy silence of the cabin.

"Westlake, report," Commander Lachlan Redford's voice barked through the encrypted channel.

Torin kept his eyes on the winding forest road ahead, pressing the receiver against his ear. "En route to the Ashbourne estate now, sir. I'll be on-site within twenty minutes."

"Good," Lachlan replied crisply. "Remember your cover story. You are not arriving as an elite Delta enforcer. To the pack members and to Bexley herself, you are just another transfer student enrolling at Silverpine Pack Academy to keep an eye on her without triggering her territorial aggression."

"Undercover student," Torin repeated, a humorless smirk touching his lips. "Wonderful."

"Do not underestimate her, Torin," Lachlan warned, his tone turning dead serious. "Dashiell Blackthorn's rogue pack is rallying in the southern badlands, and intelligence points to an internal leak within the Ashbourne inner circle. Someone inside that estate wants Bexley dead before she can testify."

Torin's grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "If there's a rat in the estate, I'll root them out before sunrise."

"Just keep her alive, Westlake. End of transmission." The line clicked dead, leaving only the low hum of the engine.

Torin switched off the comms and stepped harder on the gas pedal, the transport surging forward through the dark pine forest. Within minutes, the massive iron gates of the Ashbourne Pack Estate loomed ahead, flanked by towering stone pillars and armed pack guards who raised their rifles at his approach. Torin flashed his clearance code through the dashboard scanner, and the heavy gates groaned open, welcoming him into the lion's den.

He parked the vehicle in the gravel courtyard of the sprawling stone mansion, cutting the engine and stepping out into the crisp night air. The scent of pine and rich earth hung heavily around the estate, mingled with the faint, underlying tang of ozone and anxiety.

The front oak doors swung open before he could even reach the porch steps. Alpha Montgomery Ashbourne stood in the doorway, his tall frame rigid, his face lined with exhaustion and deep-seated terror.

"You're the enforcer from the Silverpine Academy?" Montgomery asked, his voice tight as he looked Torin up and down.

"Torin Westlake, Alpha," Torin replied smoothly, keeping his posture military-straight. "I'm here to ensure your daughter's safety."

Montgomery let out a harsh, bitter breath, stepping aside to motion Torin into the grand foyer. "Safety is an illusion right now, Westlake. My daughter doesn't want protection. She wants revenge."

Torin stepped across the threshold, his wolf instantly picking up on the lingering scent of ozone, fear, and raw, untamed defiance echoing through the halls of the estate. "Where is she?"

"Locked in her suite," Montgomery said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a trembling hand. "And she has barricaded the door."

Torin strode down the dimly lit hallway toward the heavy oak door designated as Bexley's room, his enforcer boots clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. He raised his fist to knock, but stopped dead as a sharp, metallic clatter echoed from inside the room, followed by the sound of glass shattering against the wall.

"Get out of here!" a fierce, trembling female voice screamed from behind the wood. "If another guard steps through this door, I swear I will carve my own path out of this damn pack!"

Torin narrowed his eyes, his wolf giving an approving growl at her unyielding fire. He didn't bother knocking again. Instead, he twisted the brass handle, threw his weight against the locked wood, and shoved the heavy door wide open.

Bexley whirled around from the center of the wreckage, her dark hair wild, her chest heaving as she gripped a shattered lamp base like a weapon. Her dark eyes locked onto his with pure, venomous hatred.

"I said get out," she hissed, taking a dangerous step forward.

Torin didn't flinch. He stepped inside, letting the heavy oak door click shut behind him, and locked his amber gaze onto hers. "Drop the weapon, Luna. Your babysitter has arrived."