75 (Kathryn’s POV) They brought Leo into the lower war room, the one without windows, where even sound didn’t travel unless allowed. I watched from behind the two-way glass, heart tight in my chest. He looked so young. His wrists were bound, not cruelly, but firmly. His clothes were torn and scorched. His mouth was cracked and healing where he’d bitten through his own lip. But it was his eyes that hit hardest. They were wide not with fear, but with a kind of hollow obedience. Like someone had scooped the fire out of him and left just enough to walk and speak. “Is he under compulsion?” I asked. Camerin stood beside me. “Not anymore. It broke the second he crossed the border. He’s lucid. But fractured.” “What did Jaxson do to him?” Camerin didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Leo sat motionless in the center of the room, unflinching when Micah entered. The door clicked shut behind him. “Leo,” Micah said, voice low and even. “Do you know where you are?” A pause. Then a hoarse whispe
74 (Kathryn’s POV) The hallway leading to the cells beneath the packhouse was cold. Colder than I expected, not in temperature, but in energy. The deeper we descended, the more it felt like the weight of old shadows pressed against my skin. Tyler walked ahead of me, silent and focused. Two warriors flanked us both in partial shift, claws ready, eyes glowing faintly gold. They didn’t speak, but I felt the tension rolling off them in waves. Camerin waited at the cell block entrance, arms crossed. “He’s stable,” he said as he unlocked the gate. “But barely. Looks like he tried to fight more than just us before we got to him. Whatever Jaxson’s doing to his wolves… it’s not training. It’s torture.” I swallowed hard and nodded. “I won’t go in. Just look.” The cell was dimly lit, and the scent hit me first blood, sweat, and something burnt. Like singed fur.The rogue sat slumped in the corner, his breathing ragged. One eye was swollen shut, and there were angry, mottled bruises down his
73 (Kathryn’s POV) My hands were still sore when I stepped into our room later that afternoon. The training blade had raised a few blisters, and Camerin had left me with a bruised rib and a parting shot of “Rest, Luna. You’re no good to anyone if you break before the fight begins.” Tyler was already there. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, running a whetstone along a long dagger. His focus was absolute, but I felt him register my presence the second I crossed the threshold. He didn’t look up right away. “You came back in one piece.” “Barely.” I peeled off my hoodie and dropped onto the armchair across from him. “Camerin fights like a freight train with teeth.” “He goes easy on you.” I scoffed. “I think he tried to fold me in half twice today.” Tyler finally looked up. His eyes softened a little when he saw the sweat still dampening my neck, the flush still clinging to my cheeks. “You’re holding yourself different.” I blinked. “What do you mean?” He set the
72 (Kathryn’s POV) The training yard was colder than I expected. Morning mist clung low to the ground, curling around my boots like smoke, and the stones beneath my feet were slick with dew. A row of warriors stood off to the side, sparring in pairs grunts and the sharp crack of contact echoing across the open space. Camerin stood in the center of the yard, arms folded across his broad chest, expression unreadable. I walked toward him slowly, feeling the weight of every eye that tracked my movements. The moment had finally arrived, no more borrowed time, no more protective bubble. Camerin nodded as I stopped in front of him. “Luna.” “Camerin.” I wasn’t going to call him sir. Not today. Tyler leaned against the fence near the edge of the yard, Goliath pacing just beneath his golden eyes. I could feel his gaze on me like the warm, intense, watchful sun. “You ready to get knocked on your ass?” Camerin asked, finally cracking a small smirk. “Just make sure you hit hard enough to m
71 (Kathryn’s POV) I found Celia in the kitchen later that afternoon, sleeves rolled up, hair piled high in that perfectly imperfect knot she did when she meant business. She was wrist-deep in dough, flour streaking her forearms like war paint. She didn’t look up right away when I stepped in just kept kneading with steady, ruthless hands. But her voice, when it came, told me she’d known I was there the moment I crossed the threshold. “You look like you’ve been dragged behind a truck, my Luna.” I huffed a laugh and sank onto one of the stools at the island. My knees popped. Everything hurts. “You should see the truck.” That earned me a snort. She finally lifted her head, eyes sharp as ever, catching every scrape and bruise on my face. Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t fuss she knew better. Celia never coddled, never pitied. She simply saw. “Heard Camerin agreed to train you,” she said, turning back to her dough, folding it over itself with a neat twist. “He did.” I propped my
70 (Kathryn’s POV) Morning dew still clung to the grass when I stepped onto the training grounds. My boots squelched through it, cold soaking through the seams, but I didn’t care. I’d barely slept, mind racing with every scenario of how this would go and when I did drift off, I dreamed of claws and teeth and the dark thrum of power that was Tyler when he let Goliath come close to the surface. Tyler was already there. He’d stripped off his shirt a clear message that this wasn’t some gentle warmup. His bare chest gleamed with sweat from stretching and his wolf eyes, those pale, hungry golds tracked me like prey the second I crossed the line. He tossed me a padded helmet, which I caught on reflex. “You won’t need that,” he said, voice calm but edged with warning, “but it’ll make Camerin feel better.” Camerin stood off to the side, arms crossed, face unreadable. He’d laid out mats on the hard-packed earth, but the soft courtesy didn’t fool me. This was going to hurt. I strapped on t