Rhea

The air in the training hall smelled faintly of iron and sage, the wards woven into the stone walls humming low like a heartbeat. Shifting class was never quiet—wolves muttering, stretching, testing their claws—but today the noise grated more than usual. My head still ached from everything that had gone down this week.

I sat on the mat near the back, tugging at the hem of my lilac top, trying to look less like the girl who’d been dragged onto a stage and claimed by four Alphas in front of the entire school. Spoiler: I was failing.

Professor Brannick stalked to the center, his presence cutting the room into silence. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The wards flared when he spoke, like the magic itself respected him.

“Pairs,” he barked. “Form up. Partial shift drills, then stabilization.”

The groans rippled across the hall. Shifting was painful when you weren’t in the right headspace, and judging by the slouch of shoulders and muttered curses, no one was.

I paired with Bree, because of course I did. She grinned, all freckles and fire, like this was her favourite part of the day.

“You’re getting faster at this,” she said, nudging my elbow.

“Faster at looking like I’m about to puke?” I muttered.

Her laugh bubbled bright. “No. Faster at not passing out after.”

Encouraging. Real encouraging.

Still, I dropped into stance, inhaling until my ribs ached. Focus. Push. My nails sharpened, lengthening into curved claws, silver glinting under the light. Pain seared through my knuckles, but I held it. Let it burn.

The whispers came, as they always did.

“She won’t last.”

“Too weak.”

“Even with the bond—”

My jaw clenched, but I didn’t look up. I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. Not today.

Bree squeezed my arm once, grounding me. “Ignore them. You’ve got this.”

I exhaled slow, forcing the claws to retract. Pain again, but softer this time. A clean finish. My chest tightened with something close to pride. Not much, but enough.

Brannick circled like a hawk, eyes narrowing. “Better,” he muttered when he passed me. Not praise, exactly, but from him? It might as well have been a gold star.

By the time the hour dragged to an end, sweat glued my shirt to my back, my muscles trembling. But I hadn’t collapsed. No blood. No unconscious flopping on the mat. Improvement.

When Brannick dismissed us, the hall erupted into chatter and scraping chairs. I stayed seated, letting the crowd thin. My legs felt like jelly anyway.

And that was just shifting. Add in combat training, theory exams, essays, history memorization? Keeping up with grades while my entire life spun out felt impossible. Every night was study, notes, pushing through migraines until my vision blurred. The quads had offered more than once to “handle it”—to buy me time, pay for private tutors, even flat-out cover my scholarship. But no way in hell was I letting that happen. This place was mine because I earned it. I wouldn’t hand over that piece of myself just to make their lives easier.

So yeah. My life right now? Balancing on a knife-edge. Juggling bond drama with four overbearing Alphas, fending off jealous wolves, and grinding through enough schoolwork to break a normal person in half.

But I wasn’t normal. I couldn’t afford to be.

Bree nudged me again, softer this time. “Hey. You’re okay?”

I nodded, wiping my damp palms on my jeans. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Truth was, relief was already sinking in, warm and heavy. Because tomorrow was Friday. And Brannick had just announced we’d be skipping the last class to prep for the Lila-Theo dinner thing. Which meant no more collapsing onto mats, no more growls aimed at me like knives, at least for a day.

One tiny win.

I pulled my bag over my shoulder and walked out, the wards humming as they sealed the hall behind us. My heart still felt cracked, my bond still burned too bright, but for the first time all week, I wasn’t dragging myself toward something worse.

Just one class at a time. One breath at a time.

And thank the Goddess, no last period.