Chapter 5

LYRA

My heart skips a beat. 

And not the romantic kind. The kind that comes before you hit something.

I stare at him. “What?”

“You're here to train like a warrior… a soldier. Correct?”

“Yeah…” 

He drops my arm like it burns him and takes a step back, looking down on me. 

“Then you will be treated as one.”

His gaze is sharp. He doesn't blink, and I can feel the unease already coiling in my gut.

“What are you talking about?” I ask sceptically. 

“You will be staying in the barracks with the other cadets.” 

I blink, trying to process if this is a joke. 

It has to be. 

Someone’s cruel prank. 

But his dead-serious face shatters that hope.

“You’re fucking crazy. “

This time, he snarls loudly, and that large hand clamps around my throat, applying just enough pressure to prove that it would be fucking easy for him to snap my neck. The air thins as his aura intensifies, and I feel that cold creeping up my spine again. My skin erupts in goosebumps, stemming from where his hand meets my neck. I need to fight every instinct in my body not to grab his hand and try to pull it from my throat. 

There would be no use. And I am definitely not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle. Especially when he’s so unaffected. He’s not even breathing hard.

Two packmembers, who were just walking past, shrink back, almost as if they’d been hit when his aura surges. 

And my beast… begins to stir.  

I can practically see her lifting her head in my mind. 

I try to shove her back down. Tuck her back where she belongs.

I can’t lose it on the first day. I've barely been here two hours; there's no way in hell I'm going to start clawing at the Alpha now. 

Fuck, where is Talia?

I can feel my fingertips starting to tingle, preparing for my nails to shift into claws. My gums start itching, and I try to count to ten.

It never works, but there's no harm in trying, right? 

Okay, not working… Deep breaths… fuck no, can't do that because there's an Alpha’s hand around my throat. 

I close my eyes, trying to calm my rapid heart, but fail miserably. When I look at him again, his eyes are glowing gold, his wolf just beneath the surface. And I feel my eyes glowing blue. My beast pushes forward.

The beast that I've buried under layers of sarcasm and bravado, she’s right there. And she urges me to… submit? 

What the hell?

To my utter annoyance, my eyes drop to my shoes. When he slowly releases me from his hold, I can still feel my skin buzzing from where he gripped me. And I know it’s definitely covered in red marks right now.

Zane takes two steps back the moment I lower my gaze. Like he can't stand to be close to me.

Why the hell does a normal Alpha have this effect on me? He's not even my Alpha!

I can almost feel his gaze burning a hole into the top of my head. 

If he could just stop being so fucking intense, then maybe I could actually focus. 

I try to clear my head… What were we talking about again?

Sleeping arrangements… Barracks… 

Okay, so the direct refusal didn't work. 

Plan B…

I fight my every instinct and lift my head, look him in the eyes. Swallowing the nerves crawling up my throat like insects, I paste on a sexy smirk. 

Is it smart to provoke him? Absolutely not.

Will I do it? Absolutely.

“Do you really think it's a good idea to have me room with a bunch of men? Warriors, no less. I bet the stamina is just…”

He cuts me off with another growl and steps closer again. The space between us is so charged and tight, it feels like I might choke. His rich red wine scent assaults my nose, but there is nothing in his eyes. 

“You will live with the females, princess. You will train with my warriors every day. And you will keep that bratty attitude of yours on a leash.”

His tone is hard, commanding, no room for argument.

I want to laugh because how cliché can you get?

But it dies in my throat.

“I’m not babysitting you, Weston. And I’m not putting up with your tantrums.”

The warning hangs in the air, and all I can do is stare at him. The fire in my chest is growing… My own rage is ready to bubble over, but my beast isn't there to back me up. She's disturbingly calm when she should be ready to rip his heart out. I can see her lying on her back in my mind. Completely relaxed.

And he waits.

For me to say something. To break. To submit.

But I don’t. I actually bite my damn tongue.

***

Believe it or not… he really leads me to the barracks. 

He walks by my side this time, close enough for his scent to still surround me, but far enough that I don't feel the heat of his body anymore. 

Why is he walking beside me now? Fuck knows. 

I don't think even the goddess knows the reasons behind his actions most of the time. But I ignore him. I just follow Liz and Clara like I’m not about to be dropped into some dystopian werewolf bootcamp. My spine is straight, my heels are clicking, and every cell in my body is screaming bloody murder. My heart nearly drops in my shoes at the sight of the structure. 

From the outside, the barracks is a long, low structure clad in the pack‘s matte black and smoky grey. The edges are razor-sharp, the corners too precise, and the symmetry almost unsettling. No balconies. No signs of life. Just an expanse of dark material that drinks in the sunlight and reflects back nothing but power and discipline.

Instead of Eclipse Pack’s signature floor-to-ceiling windows, the barracks have small rectangular panes set high up on the walls—barely wide enough to let light in, definitely not wide enough to climb out of. They look more like ventilation slots than windows. A narrow set of stairs leads up to a single reinforced door.

I decide not to greet the Alpha. I don't even look his way when I step inside, and the goddess shows me mercy; he doesn't speak to me either. 

When I step inside, I sigh in relief.

It's not nearly as bad as it could be.

Not like the movies where fifty-something people are cramped into one open space with bunk beds and boxes crammed under the beds for whatever little belongings they have. 

No, soldiers would call this luxurious. But obviously not nearly as luxurious as I am used to. 

Yes, I sound like a snobby bitch.

Yes, I sound like a princess.

That's exactly what I am. 

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

But by the way these women are looking at me right now, one would swear I am some sort of ogre that just crawled out of a swamp. 

I drag my suitcases to the only vacant bed in the room.

It's more than just a bed, though… almost like a cubicle. The ‘walls’ of my cubicle rise just high enough that I can’t peek over them—even in my heels. Which means no one else can see in either. 

Finally, a win.

Inside, it’s surprisingly serene.

There’s a single bed in the centre, neatly made with bedding in white, cream, and soft sage greens. It gives off forest vibes, like someone tried to make this tiny square feel calm, maybe even healing. The entire back wall is covered in wallpaper that looks like an enchanted forest at dawn.

It’s the complete opposite of everything outside. No cold concrete, no militarised testosterone fog. In here, it almost feels like I can breathe.

Beside the bed, there’s a small desk—soon to become my hair and makeup station. 

On the other side of the bed, there’s what might pass for a closet— a recessed hole in the wall with a railing and a few sad metal hangers dangling. Still, there’s enough space at the bottom to tuck my one suitcase, and the bed’s high enough to slide the other beneath it.

I look around the cubicle again. 

Who designed this? 

Because I refuse to believe Alpha Emotionless had anything to do with this. He doesn’t exactly scream “soothing aesthetic” or “let’s create tranquil personal spaces.” But someone here gets it.

Soon, everyone gets over their shock at the new ‘addition’ to the barracks, and I can hear them moving around, chatting… Speculating. 

Luckily, no one approaches me as I unpack everything I need. Once I’m somewhat settled, I grab my vanity case from my suitcase and the towels folded on my bed, before making my way to the bathroom. Fully intent on taking a long, hot, well-deserved bath. 

As I stride down between the cubicles, the chatter quiets down, and I get my first real look around.

There are nineteen women already in the barracks. And from the state of the cubicles, they are either busy unpacking or planning on living out of their suitcases for the next three weeks. 

Yeah… three weeks living in the barracks. 

In the car, Leon explained that I am a ‘last-minute addition’ to the Eclipse Pack external training program. 

Apparently, different wolves, male and female, travel from their packs all across the country to partake in the Eclipse warrior training program. 

Still, I kind of expected that I would be living with wolves from my pack. Safety reasons, Alpha’s sister and all…

But this is what I wanted, right? Freedom. Training. Learning control. And this seems like the perfect place to teach me.

Everyone else in the room certainly seems disciplined.

The woman in the cubicle next to mine has a scar running across her temple and a bicep bigger than my thigh. How does a werewolf even get a scar? 

I don't have much time to wonder about it, though, as my eyes fall on another woman, who is lifting weights beside her bed like it’s foreplay.

Yeah. They don’t do blowouts and winged eyeliner here. Except maybe the one cubicle where four girls lie on a single bed, clearly gossiping.

From what I can see, I’m surrounded by A-grade warriors. All the women here are either incredibly toned or full-out muscled.  But I learned long ago that muscle only means so much when it comes to an actual fight. My speed and agility have won many sparring matches against way bigger opponents. 

Even without the crazy beast inside my head going all superstrength. 

I keep walking past the cubicles. When I pass the final cubicle right beside the bathroom, three girls sit cross-legged on the bed, all giving looks that are a little more curious than hostile, but as soon as I walk into the bathroom,

I'm disappointed. 

No tub in sight. 

Just a stark row of showerheads separated by nothing but heavy black curtains.

And apparently, everyone assumes the bathroom is some sort of magical place where all the noise of the outside world is drowned out, because the gossip starts up again the moment I step inside.

I try to block out their voices as I turn on the hot water, playing with the knobs a bit until I get the perfect temperature. When I step into the hot water, my muscles slowly start to relax beneath the strong spray. 

I lather shampoo into my hair, trying to wash away the day and maybe the last twenty-three years of bad decisions, but after a while, I can't resist listening to the conversations anymore.

“…girl from the pack near Durham?”

“She won’t last two days.”

I freeze. My hand stills mid-rinse.

Rude.

People really need to stop fucking underestimating me.

“I bet she’s just here for the Alpha.”

“Wait till she finds out his mate is here.”