CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun hung low in the sky, casting molten gold across the treetops as Rian stepped out of the forest’s edge. Her heart drummed an anxious rhythm in her chest. Just ahead, nestled at the crossroads between wilderness and structure, stood a small outpost made of stone and iron.

The Academy’s border checkpoint.

Two tall posts framed a wrought-iron gate, one side of it propped open. On either side, sharp-eyed guards flanked a squat building where the official recruiter sat beneath a canvas awning, sipping something warm from a tin mug.

Behind him, the path curved out of sight—toward the gates of the Alpha Training Academy.

Rian swallowed hard.

Her boots crunched against the gravel as she approached, her satchel slung over her shoulder, her forged acceptance letter tucked deep within its folds. Her shoulders were square, gait wide, jaw tight. Just like she’d practiced.

She had to be him now.

Rian. Not Rhea. Not scared. Not weak.

A tall man stepped forward to intercept her, dressed in the charcoal-gray uniform of an Academy scout. His hair was cropped short, his nose slightly crooked—clearly broken once and never reset properly.

“State your name,” he barked, stepping directly into her path.

Rian met his eyes. “Rian. Son of Garran. Accepted for the Alpha Training term.” Her voice was a touch lower than usual, carefully roughened by days of practice.

The scout’s eyes narrowed, and he motioned to the recruiter behind him. “We’ve got one. Let’s see the letter.”

Rian hesitated for only a breath before sliding her satchel off her shoulder and unbuckling the flap. Her fingers brushed the worn parchment, its edges slightly frayed from her restless checking.

She handed it over.

The recruiter took it with mild disinterest, unfolding it slowly. He glanced at her, then down at the name.

“Rian, son of Garran. Eastwood Region.” His eyes skimmed the forged Academy crest, the stamped seal. “You’re late. Letters were supposed to be verified three days ago.”

“I was delayed,” Rian answered, her tone clipped. “No escort. Traveled through human territory. Took longer than expected.”

The recruiter arched a brow and tilted his head. “You’re either brave or foolish to come that way alone.”

“Both,” Rian said, allowing a small smirk.

The recruiter huffed. “Cocky, too.”

Silence stretched. Rian didn’t twitch under his stare. Every muscle in her body burned to fidget, but she held the line. She’d spent nights perfecting how not to break—this was the test.

He looked back at the letter and hummed softly. “Seal’s clean. Handwriting matches standard protocol. Huh. No sponsor?”

“No one left to sponsor me,” Rian replied. “My father’s dead. My pack dissolved four years ago in the border conflicts.”

The recruiter grunted and looked to the scout, who gave a barely perceptible nod.

“You know we don't tolerate lies here,” the recruiter said, folding the letter again. “You’re not the first to try sneaking in with falsified credentials.”

Rian’s fingers curled slightly. “I know. But I’m not lying.”

“Really?” He leaned forward, studying her with sharper focus. “You’ve got the bones of a runt. That dagger on your belt’s never drawn real blood. And I can smell fear on you like wolves smell rain.”

Rian’s throat tightened. But she didn’t look away. “If I wasn’t scared, I’d be stupid. I’ve come to learn. Not to pretend I know everything.”

The recruiter’s stare lingered on her face. He tapped the folded letter against his palm, thinking.

“You’ve got spirit,” he muttered. “That’ll be beaten out of you soon enough.”

“I’m ready.”

A long silence passed before he finally grunted and reached behind him for a stamp. With a loud thud, he pressed the insignia into the letter, marking it officially received.

“Take this to the southern gate when it opens at dawn. You’ll be processed with the last batch of stragglers. If your story checks out during the intake trial, you stay. If it doesn’t—well, you’ll find out what happens to liars around here.”

Rian nodded once and took the letter with a steady hand.

“Wait,” the recruiter said as Rian turned to leave.

She stopped mid-step, her spine stiffening.

His eyes hadn’t left her—sharp, assessing, calculating now. “We’ve had more fakes this year than usual. One even tried to bribe a scout with silver.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So we’ve added a step.”

Rian swallowed the instinct to protest. “What step?”

“A preliminary trial. Nothing elaborate—just a spar.” He flicked his fingers toward the training ring off to the left, where a few young males lingered in various stages of practice. “Think of it as a chance to stretch your legs before the real beatings start tomorrow.”

Rian’s mouth dried. Her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin, pushing against the carefully built wall she'd used to suppress her for days. The wolf hated the constant suppression. The shifting identity. The stillness.

A spar meant she’d have to fight while holding her back. She couldn’t let her wolf rise—not even a little—because she wasn’t just strong, she was female, and that would ruin everything.

Still, she gave a curt nod. “I understand.”

The recruiter gestured for one of the boys to step forward. He was lean but well-built, his forearms wrapped in leather guards and his smirk cocky. Maybe sixteen. Maybe older. “Ryker here will be your opponent. Try not to cry.”

A few others chuckled from the edge of the ring.

Rian stepped into the dirt ring slowly. She glanced around—roughly fifteen paces in diameter, circled with flat stones and worn ground from countless duels.

Ryker rolled his shoulders, eyeing her lazily. “This won’t take long, runt.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she let her breathing slow, body relaxing despite the spike of adrenaline. Her wolf twisted within her chest—frustrated, caged, silent.

She whispered to her internally. Please. Not yet. Just let me do this.

Her wolf didn’t answer, but she curled back slightly.

“Begin!” barked the recruiter.

Ryker surged forward like a bullet. No hesitation.

Rian sidestepped the first blow—not out of speed but out of instinct. His elbow still caught her shoulder, jolting pain through her. She stumbled but kept her footing, whirling to face him again.

He came at her harder the second time.

This time she didn’t dodge—she dropped.

She let herself hit the dirt and swept a leg under his feet. He crashed to the ground, swearing, dust clouding the air around them.

A surprised whistle came from the sidelines.

Rian didn’t wait for Ryker to recover. She rolled away, came up behind him, and pressed her boot lightly to his back. Her breath came fast, sharp, her limbs screaming. Her body wasn’t trained for this—but her instincts were.

Ryker twisted suddenly and grabbed her ankle. She yelped as she hit the ground hard, shoulder slamming against a rock. Stars flared behind her eyes.

He pounced.

Pain exploded as he pinned her arm and shoved her cheek into the dirt.

“Got you now,” he sneered into her ear.

Rian growled—a sound more feral than she intended. Her wolf surged, furious at the dominance, begging to defend her.

No. Not yet. Not here.

Instead of brute force, she shifted her weight subtly. Her free hand found the edge of the flat stone beneath her and shoved it backward—right into his knee.

Ryker howled and recoiled just enough.

She twisted like a serpent and drove her elbow into his ribs, then shoved him off her entirely.

Both of them scrambled to their feet, panting.

“Enough,” called the recruiter.

Rian stopped immediately. Ryker hesitated, then backed down, glaring.

The recruiter approached the ring with slow, deliberate steps. “You’re weaker than most who enter these gates,” he said plainly. “Your hits aren’t heavy. Your stance is raw. But…”

He studied her with renewed interest.

“You think.”

She said nothing, dirt streaking her cheek, her shoulder throbbing.

“You fight smart,” he continued. “Use your opponent’s strength against them. Use your environment. That’s the kind of desperation I like.”

Rian met his gaze. “I had to survive before I came here. I didn’t always get to win clean.”

The recruiter chuckled, not unkindly. “No one does.”

Ryker grumbled as he limped away. The other recruits whispered behind their hands.

The recruiter turned to her and tossed the stamped letter back into her hands.

“You’ve earned your place at the gate. Don’t waste it.”

Rian nodded, fighting the tremor in her hands as she clutched the parchment like a lifeline.

She wasn’t strong. Not yet.

But she was here.

And that was the first step.