Chapter 14

Cain's POV

I woke up that morning to sunlight in my face.

Not with shouting or sharp commands, but with pale light spilling through the window and the low, steady rhythm of the Frostbite pack waking up. For a long moment, I stay still, listening—boots against stone, quiet voices, the distant sound of wolves shifting forms.

Order.

Purpose.

Things I’ve never been allowed to have without earning them through pain. Out there in the forest .

By the time I step outside, dressed in the training clothes Hannah insisted on picking for me, the air is crisp and cool. The forest surrounding the pack lands hums faintly, alive in a way that feels different now that I’m part of it.

Eric is already at the training grounds.

He stands with his arms crossed, broad shoulders squared, green eyes sharp as he watches two warriors spar. Anton is beside him, relaxed but attentive, correcting one of the younger wolves with quiet authority.

“You ready?” Anton asks when he notices me.

I hesitate only a second before nodding. “Yes.”

Eric turns then, his gaze settling on me with an intensity that straightens my spine instinctively.

There’s no judgment in his eyes—only expectation.

“Training starts slow,” he says. “But it won’t stay that way.”

“I understand.”

And I do.

The first part of training isn’t about strength. It’s about control. Breathing. Balance. Anton walks me through basic stances, adjusting my footing, correcting my posture.

“Stop fighting the ground,” he says gently. “Let it support you.”

It sounds simple. It isn’t.

My body wants to react on instinct alone, to move fast and wild like I did in the forest. Eric watches silently, stepping in only when necessary.

“You rely too much on raw instinct,” he finally says, circling me. “Instinct is powerful—but without discipline, it gets sloppy.”

I nod, biting back frustration.

We move into controlled strikes, then defensive maneuvers. Sweat beads along my temples, muscles burning in a way that’s unfamiliar but… right. My wolf stirs beneath my skin, alert but restrained.

This is different, she murmurs. Stronger.

Then something strange happens.

Anton throws a strike meant to test my reaction time—not fast, not slow. I should barely deflect it.

Instead, my body moves before my mind catches up.

I twist, deflecting the blow with perfect precision, my counterstrike stopping inches from Anton’s chest.

The clearing goes silent.

Anton blinks. “That was… fast.”

Eric’s gaze sharpens. “Do it again.”

We repeat the drill. And again. Each time, my movements are cleaner. Faster. Stronger than they should be.

“You didn’t teach me that,” I say quietly, unsettled.

Eric doesn’t answer right away. He’s watching me like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

“No,” he says finally. “I didn’t. That's........ surprising" He gives me a reassuring smile "In a good way"

After training, I collapse onto the grass, chest heaving. Hannah appears beside me with a bottle of water, wrapped up breakfast burrito and a grin.

“You didn’t pass out,” she says proudly. “Huge win.” She hands them both to me and I unscrew the cap and chug down half of the bottle and bite hungrily into the burrito.

I thank her as I chew “I barely survived.”

Eric stands a short distance away, still watching me. When our eyes meet, something unspoken passes between us—not a bond, not a pull. Just awareness. Curiosity.

The afternoon passes with Hannah dragging me around the pack lands again, showing me her favorite places. She talks easily, filling the quiet with stories—about growing up here, about Eric before he became Alpha, about how everything changed after he lost his mate.

“He was different back then,” she says softly as we sit near the river. “Lighter.”

I don’t ask more. Some grief doesn’t need probing.

As the sun dips lower, a horn sounds from the watchtower.

Hannah grabs my hand as we hurry back"What's wrong" She asks her brother

Eric stiffens "Anton"

Anton’s posture changes, relaxed ease replaced with sharp focus. “Alpha.”

They leave quickly. Hannah watches them go, worry flickering across her face.

“Rogues?” I ask.

“Most likely,” she replies. “They’ve been getting closer.”

That unease settles deep in my chest.

That night, the pack gathers for dinner, but the mood is subdued. Conversations stay low. Guards rotate more often. I catch pieces of talk—scratches near the riverbank, scents that don’t belong.

Danger doesn’t announce itself.

It waits.

Later, when the pack quiets, I step outside alone. The forest hums softly, but my wolf won’t settle. My senses stretch outward instinctively.

Something is wrong.

Not immediate. Not close.

But watching.

This land recognizes you, my wolf whispers suddenly.

I freeze.

“What do you mean?” I whisper back.

She doesn’t answer—but the feeling deepens. The ground beneath my feet feels… responsive. Alive in a way I’ve never noticed before. The forest isn’t just around me.

It’s aware.

A branch snaps behind me.

I spin, heart racing.

Eric stands a few steps away, his gaze fixed not on the forest—but on me.

“You felt it,” he says quietly. Not a question.

I swallow. “Yes.”

He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face.

“This land doesn’t react to just anyone,” he says slowly. “Especially not like that.”

The words send a chill down my spine.

“I don’t understand,” I admit.

“I'm not sure I understand either,” he smiles. “All I know is you're different. And this is not you at your peak. We have barely scratched the surface”

I frown " I don't like that "

"Being different?" I nod "Being different is not a bad thing Cora. Different means special."

"You think so" I tilt my head to look at him.

He looks down at me and chuckles "I know so Cora. Trust me"

Trust him?? And I realize I do.

"You smell familiar. Like I've met you before" He's frowning as he says this.

I laugh "Familiar?? How is that even possible"

His eyes are narrowed,deep in thought, then he smiles. "Anything is possible"

We stand there together, silent, alert, the forest holding its breath around us.

Whatever is coming, I know one thing for certain.

I won’t be running this time.