Chapter 2

Prue

Dinner with Dad was quiet - at least until the first inevitable question dropped.

“So, how was your first day at school?” he asked, casually enough, though I could already feel the concern hiding behind his calm tone.

“It was okay,” I replied, poking at my food. “You know how new beginnings go... awkward, mostly.”

He nodded knowingly. “True. Did you make any friends?”

“Not yet,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve just been trying to keep up with the curriculum and catch up on what I’ve missed. Starting mid-semester isn’t exactly smooth sailing.”

His face softened with understanding. “Yeah, that can’t be easy.”

There was a short pause as we both chewed in silence. Then he asked, “Anything interesting about the school? Something you think you might like?”

“I hope so,” I said vaguely, not wanting to get into too much detail.

Then I leaned back and added, “But there is something... unexpected.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“At least one-third of the students are weres.”

That got his attention.

“Really?” His brows furrowed deeply.

“Yup.” I stabbed a piece of potato. “Surprised me too. We’ve never landed in a school with this many before.”

“Huh. That’s strange,” he murmured, now clearly lost in thought.

“Exactly what I thought. Usually I only spot a couple, if any. You said weres often prefer separate schooling, so they can train more freely—shifting, using speed, all that. Right?”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Easier for them to... stretch their claws without raising questions.”

“Well, here it’s different.”

“Are they... nice?” he asked after a beat, but I could hear the tension beneath the casual wording. We both knew that being lone wolves made things complicated.

“They seem... neutral. For now,” I admitted. “The future Alpha glared at me in the hallway, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to start anything, either.”

He frowned again, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “Try to steer clear of them. Make friends with the humans if you can. At least one tall guy with some muscle. Backup is always good.”

I gave him a flat look. “Really, Dad? A human backup against weres? What’s he going to do - yell really loud?”

“It’s better than nothing,” he replied without missing a beat, completely unbothered.

I nearly rolled my eyes. “Do you still want me to carry that pepper spray?”

“Of course.”

I finally did roll my eyes. “Dad...”

“And my number’s still on speed dial?”

“Yes, sir, yes,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “Same as the last ten times you asked.”

“Good, good.” He nodded like we were finalizing a military plan. “We’ll stick to our usual training schedule - and add an extra hour on weeknights. Three to five hours on weekends.”

My jaw nearly hit the table. “Wait - what? Why so brutal?” I asked starting to feel offended.

“You’ve had your wolf for over a year now. The stronger your body, the better you’ll handle shifts and fights. Your wolf will heal sore muscles fast - so no excuses. A good meal, a short nap, and you’re good to go.”

I groaned. “If you say so.”

It wasn’t that I hated training - I actually liked being strong. I liked being able to throw a grown man like my dad onto his back during sparring. But I was still a teenager. I wanted to have lazy weekends, binge movies, eat popcorn without being sore in five muscles I didn’t even know I had. And usually, during school days, I didn’t have that luxury anyway - I joined sports clubs just to blend in.

“You know,” he continued, “light athletics would be a good club to join. Try sprinting - five miles should help build stamina.”

I snorted. “Maybe I should just join the marathon team and call it a day.”

“Hm. Think they have one?” he asked, totally serious.

I blinked. Wow. “Are you afraid for my life or something?”

“Not yet,” he said calmly. “But I prefer to be prepared.”

“Well, sorry to ruin your survival fantasy, but I can hold my own one-on-one. If five wolves attack at once? I'm dead meat. No amount of tree climbing will save me.”

“You never know,” he replied with a shrug. “Speaking of climbing, you should retake those wall-climbing courses.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

He looked at me like it was obvious. “If you cross a stream and scale a tree right after, most trackers will lose your trail. They’ll assume you continued down or upstream. Wolves don’t usually think to search their prey up in the sky.”

I sighed and stabbed my steak again, my appetite fading despite it being my favorite meal.

Since I was little, survival had always been part of my life. It started with sprints. Then came obstacle training, endurance drills, and combat techniques. For years I thought it was just a fun way to spend time with Dad. But now I knew better.

He was preparing me. Always preparing me.

But I’d never lived a day where I actually needed those skills. And slowly, I started to wonder if that day would ever come.

So what was the point of all the pressure? Why keep pushing myself so hard for something that might never happen?

The worst part on top of it? We’d been running for so long... I was starting to wonder if there was ever going to be something worth running toward.