Chapter 6

LYRA

My shampoo bottle slips from my hand and hits the tile with a plastic crack.

Silence.

Then, an annoyingly sweet, high voice cuts through the silence. 

“Guys, we don’t even know if he’s my mate.”

There is a round of giggles. Far too girly. Too flirty and wayyy too self-satisfied. I roll my eyes as I pick up my bottle.

So apparently this place is half warcamp, half bitchy high school. 

Just lovely. 

“Oh, come on, Maria.”

“Girl, the sexual tension is ridiculous.”

That high voice giggles slightly.

“We'll have to wait till the full moon.” An exaggerated sigh. “But I'm sure he is my mate.”

The word echoes in my head…

Mate. Of course, he has one. Of course.

Fucking typical.

Everyone gets one, and I don't. 

And I should not be angry about it. But fuck it, I am. I deserve one too. Preferably a tall, sexy, muscular, morally grey man with a tattoo. 

But the moon goddess made it damn clear it’s not in my cards.

I dump way too much silver conditioner into my hand, but screw it. I take my time in the shower. Processing. Willing my beast to calm down. She’s just as angry about our mate situation as I am, and right now, it feels like something is about to rip out of my chest to break free. 

But I won't let it. 

I stand under the warm spray for longer than I probably should, trying to focus on the feel of the water against my skin. The sound of the water hitting the tiles and flowing down the drain. I focus on the smell of my shampoo and conditioner. I concentrate on anything other than the fact that the moon goddess didn’t deem my beast worthy of a mate. And that even Alpha Asshole has one. 

Not that his love life is any of my business 

But still. 

Fuck, pull back the claws, Lyra… get these eyes under control.

If this really is an army camp with a limited hot water supply, I’ve most likely used up every drop of it, but by the time I step out of the shower and towel myself dry, I can feel that my eyes have stopped glowing. 

The mirror above the washbasins confirms that I look normal again. I floss and brush my teeth, with claw-free hands, and human-sized canines. 

This time when I walk past the cubicles, now in my short silk pyjamas, they don’t stop talking. I get a disapproving look from the girl with the weights, who is now gathering her things to go take a shower… shit.

The girl with the scar just shoots me a curious stare when I walk past.

When I finally reach my cubicle and slam the little door shut, I’m not sure whether I want to scream or cry. Or both.

So instead, I grab my blow dryer, nearly ripping the cord out of the wall.

I go through my nightly routine on autopilot. Blow dry my hair, toner, serum, moisturiser, leave-in conditioner. The whole time I try doing the deep breathing exercises, like I’m not seconds from shifting and shredding the whole goddamn barracks.

Then I lie in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

I don’t care who Zane’s mate is. I don’t care about ‘Maria’. This is about how unfair the goddess is. This is about how everyone keeps underestimating me. That's the trigger. It has absolutely nothing to do with Zane. 

Zero. Zilch. Fuck all.

***

The next day, I’m woken up at five a.m. by a shrill sound. 

I’m not even sure if it’s an alarm or someone screaming bloody murder. Probably the latter. And I just might join in.

By the time I drag my ass from bed and open my cubicle door, many of the girls are already leaving the barracks. Where to? Who knows. 

But when the rest of the women start slowly filtering out, it’s obvious I’m also expected to follow. 

Luckily, we don’t have to wear some boring, gross-coloured army uniforms. 

Everyone is leaving in nothing but old oversized t-shirts or hoodies. No sign of shorts or leggings… are they even wearing underwear? Who the hell knows? 

I look at my suitcases, then at the few pieces of clothing hanging in the ‘closet’.

Do I own an oversized anything? Definitely not. So I opt for leggings and a tight exercise top. I’ll stand out like a sore thumb once again, but such is life, I suppose. I also throw on a sexy set of lingerie. A girl could always use a confidence boost.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed or applied makeup this fast in my life, and by the time I join the others outside, they are all standing by the tree line. 

The head trainer gives me a side-eye, but doesn’t say anything as she explains the route we will be running through the forest. It takes everything in me not to smile at the fact that I will be allowed to run into the forest, without anyone hovering over me. 

Everyone will be doing their own thing, right?  No one will be bothered by me. 

Wrong. 

I get some really fucked up looks when the other women all shift into their wolves, and I don’t.

But despite the looks, watching them shift is actually quite interesting to see. I’m used to being around strong warriors and alphas, but these women. 

Their ranks are obvious from the sizes of the wolves. Which differs a lot.

The girl with the scar turns into a large brown wolf, the same colour as her human hair. Nessa Gordon, according to the roll call last night before bed. She definitely has some strong blood going through her veins. 

I remain in my human form, of course. Mom and Dad always made it abundantly clear that I should never shift in front of others. There is no way I’m breaking that rule. Not even here. 

Not even with the head trainer ordering me for the second and third time to do it. 

Absolutely not happening. 

Some of the wolves let out these low chuffs that sound almost amused, like they’re laughing at me. 

My beast bristles beneath my skin, urging me to show them exactly what they’re dealing with.

If I ripped into one of them, especially that fucking head trainer, the rest will fall into line.

All I need is a little flex of dominance… a little show… 

The sound of the all clear to start running pulls me from my stupid basic urges. Thank the goddess. 

I take off a few seconds after the other girls, taking some time to gather my bearings. The head trainer gives me a disappointing tsk sound, and I can already hear those amused chuffing sounds from the women as they run. 

Bitches.

Their sounds quickly die out anyway when they see that I actually keep up during the run. I catch up to Nessa in the front easily, and honestly… It sucks that I can’t run at my full speed. What's the point of running through the forest if you can't give it your all? The forest should be the one place we can be free… but surrounded by these women, I have to hold back. I can’t show them exactly how fast I am if I don’t want someone to ask too many questions. Running at the same speed is fine… Leaving them in my dust is not. 

It’s a very fine line, and I am treading it carefully.

As we return from the run, we are herded into a gym like cattle. But not to spar, nope, we are put through drills. 

Actual, fucking drills. 

And not the fun weapons or combat drills, nope.

PT.

Like we're in a human army camp, instead of a supernatural werewolf pack. We do the Army Dozen and circuit training on steroids — sit-ups, push-ups, squat thrusts, lunges, jumping jacks — a never ending list of mindnumbingly boring exercises. Especially when you have no one to talk to. 

The other women all formed these little groups. One would really think we're all in high school, and I'm the odd one out, which is completely new to me. And I hate it. 

Isolation within a pack? It’s more dangerous than violence — it’s rejection. The cold shoulder. The whispered judgment. They all probably think I’m one of the rare few who can’t shift into a wolf. Or that I’m ashamed of my wolf. 

Not that far from the truth, to be honest. 

I let my eyes wander around the gym. One group consists of the most muscled women. Four of them, and Nessa is definitely the leader. She’s… weird. She was the only one who didn't find it funny when I ran in human form this morning. Or at least not out loud. She even snarled at the three other girls in her group who chuffed along.

She has, however, been keeping her brown eyes on me all morning. Not really pitying. Or judging. Not even intimidating. More assessing. Like she senses something is wrong with me and is trying to figure it out.

Yeah, good luck with that.

I twist the cap back on my water bottle when a shadow falls across the water fountain.

“Hi!” A girl beams,  like we’re long-lost friends or something. Her black, shiny ponytail bounces and her voice is much higher than it has any right to be. Far too familiar.

”You came last night, right?” I just nod at her, and she continues, 

“I’m Maria López. I got here yesterday, too.”

I take a sip of my water, trying to buy myself a second as she waits for me. She’s smiling too widely, way too eager. 

“Lyra,” I say finally. “And yeah, new.”

She nods, still all sunshine.

“I’m from the Moonridge Pack,” she says, while towelling off sweat like we’re chatting over coffee instead of dying of dehydration. “My dad’s the Beta there, so I’m next in line.” Another pause. Is she waiting for a compliment or something? But then she continues, “I came here to train a bit before taking over.”

I blink.

“You came to the ‘barracks’ voluntarily?” Placing extra emphasis on the word ‘barracks’. She was probably also under the impression that we would be living in apartments, right? Otherwise, she never would have signed up.

“Of course I came to the barracks!” she chirps. Okay, so I was the only clueless one. 

She doesn’t stop talking.

“The Eclipse Pack has the best training program in our alliance ring. My dad said if I wanted to lead warriors, I had to know what it meant to be one.”

Okay. Respect.

Still annoying though.

“I was surprised Alpha Wynter even said yes,” she says. “But I guess it makes sense. We’re allies. If war breaks out again, strong allies mean survival.”

Why is she still talking to me?

Then she giggles. That high-pitched, girly-girl giggle that would’ve made me roll my eyes if she didn’t look genuinely starstruck.

“And also…” She glances around conspiratorially, then leans in like she was about to tell me a secret.

I raise a brow. “Also?”

Her cheeks flush, like she knows she’s being ridiculous. “I think there’s something between us. Me and the Alpha, I mean.”

…Of course she does. 

She twirls the ends of her ponytail with one finger, her dark brown eyes staring into the abyss. 

“He’s so mysterious, right? Like… intense, but thoughtful. He walked me to the barracks himself, you know. He didn't do that for anyone else. And the way he looked at me…”

She trails off, disgustingly dreamy.

I nod slowly. 

“Mysterious. Intense. Yep. That’s him.”

He's also a huge, manhandling asshole who growls at me like I’m a rabid fox chewing on furniture, but sure. Let’s go with “thoughtful.”

Maria sighs, “I know it’s probably nothing. But…” She slowly draws in another breath, staring at the wall. “They say you can feel the fated bond even before it snaps into place, so yeah… I can’t wait for the full moon. An Alpha mated to a Beta… It’s so common it’s almost cliché.”

Another giggle. 

And some of the other girls in her group look at us. 

So that’s why she’s still talking to me…

Fascinating, really.

We, as shifters, are supposed to be more evolved than wolves. More human. But the way Maria is fawning, almost staking a claim over Zane? She might as well have been a she-wolf marking her territory. 

I just resist another eye roll and force a smile, but my molars already ache from the pressure.

“Sure. Maybe,” I said coolly, even though my beast is howling under my skin, urging me to challenge Maria. 

Nope, down girl.

He’s not worth it.