Chapter 31

Lincoln's POV

I walk around the edge of the lake, sweat running down my back, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My heart feels like it’s going to pound straight out of my ribs.

“That was fucking awful,” Jackson coughs beside me, doubling over with his hands on his knees.

“We need to do more cardio,” Sam huffs from the other side, and I silently agree.

We’ve been training hard, following Blood Moon’s Delta Greg’s program since the start of our first year—ever since that first summer where we all met… and I met Zahra. Brutal doesn’t begin to cover it. Greg didn’t hold back just because we were away at AC; he sent programs tailored to each of us, and Isaac and I made damn sure we stuck to them. It broke us down week after week until we built ourselves back up again.

My body learned to work past exhaustion, to find strength in the burn. There were nights when I hit my bed face-first and didn’t move until morning, and mornings when every muscle screamed before I even made it to the shower. But I did it. We all did.

And it shows. We’ve all grown. None of us were small before—ranked wolves in our prime—but after three years of Greg’s training and maturing, we’re one of the biggest, strongest units at AC. My frame has changed the most, bulked and carved sharper, carrying the weight of my bloodline in ways I never thought possible. I used to be lean, fast, deadly in a fight, sure, but never built like Xander or Max. Now when I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I see their size staring back. Equal. For the first time, I feel like I belong on the same field as them.

The last two summers at Camp proved it too. We’ve been more competitive than ever against the Royals and Blood Moon’s unit. I’m looking forward to testing myself again this year.

But the hell Baxter just put us through shows there’s still room for improvement.

I scan the other units across the field. Still no sign of Xander, Max, or the others. I know there won’t be—they’re at Zahra’s graduation today and will join us tomorrow. But for some reason, I can’t help looking for them anyway.

Brant jogs over, arms behind his head, breathing hard. We all turn and head back toward the benches outside the cabins for our break. That run might’ve pushed me to my limit, but I’m pleased to see we’ve recovered our breath as fast as Brant’s unit—and a hell of a lot faster than most of the teams here. The realization drags a grin out of me.

We drop onto the benches as a group, sweat still dripping, talking through the morning session and trading quick debriefs. For a moment, everything settles—the ache, the burn, the shared exhaustion.

“It’s weird without the others here this year,” Brant says quietly, fingering the label on his water bottle.

“Yeah. It’ll be good to have the Blood Moon guys back tomorrow,” Sam replies. I nod along, but the chatter swings to mates and my stomach tightens like a strip of bacon curling on a hot pan. Fuck.

My unit have all found their mates now. The girls are sharp and fierce, perfect matches. Together our future units will be unstoppable. I’m happy for them, honestly. Still, the thought of being the odd one out sits like a stone in my gut. Brant’s Luna is gorgeous—long silky black hair, green eyes—kind, fierce, the literal perfect Luna, from a strong alpha bloodline. His future pack’s set. I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m not—well, not mostly—but my chest aches at the want to have someone of my own to love. Since Mum died I’ve not felt loved, or known how to love properly. For years I thought I never would. Something’s changed. Maybe it’s getting older. I want a mate to cherish.

There’s gossip about a couple of future alphas who rejected their mates this year. I don’t have the full story—this kind of dirt usually stays within a pack—but apparently, they refused the Moon Goddess’s choice. I can’t believe it. Who’s that arrogant and ungrateful? People here would give anything for a mate. It’s not guaranteed. Many never find their fated match. Ranked wolves have better odds because they travel more, meet people at conferences and events. If your mate isn’t ranked, your chances drop to near zero.

‘Maybe we should tour other packs, not just go to mating balls,’ Lex says, and for once he’s onto something. It’s not a terrible plan. Still, maybe it’s smarter to wait until we take over. If my mate turned out to be an omega, it’d be easier to keep her safe, once I’ve beaten my father and taken command. One day soon I’ll have to challenge him. That idea used to twist my stomach until I wanted to vomit. Now it sits heavy and real—still a weight, but not something I flinch from. Every push-up, every sprint, every brutal drill carves me closer to the wolf who can take him down. The guys will have to face Dom, Niall, and Tom, a much less intimidating prospect, but one they’ve still been preparing their assess off for, none the less. 

I haven’t been back to Shadow since I started at AC. Not once. Every holiday, I found an excuse—extra courses, trips to Dark Forest or Blue Mountain with the guys, a few visits to the royal pack with Tobias—and every summer I’ve spent at the Alpha King’s camp. I’ve done anything to keep from setting foot in that pack again.