Chapter 3

Zahra's POV

That’s why I’m out here running at 4:30am. I’m getting faster, cutting my time down from an hour to just forty minutes for this stretch, and I’m barely winded by the end. After my run, I head back to where I left my bag, pull out my water bottle, and then grab my Chemistry textbook. I settle on the bench and start reading.

“I thought teenagers needed loads of sleep? Or is that just my son’s excuse for being lazy?”

Shit.

Gamma Austin’s booming voice makes my body react before my brain catches up. I twist on the bench, shoulders tight, ready for something that isn’t there, and my Chemistry book slips from my fingers and thuds onto the grass.

My heart hammers. For a second, my instincts scream, and then I register what I’m looking at.

Gamma Austin, brows raised, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Sorry,” I manage, forcing air back into my lungs. “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Atomic structure fascinates me.”

He looks amused, which is worse.

“How long have you been here? It’s not even 5:30am yet.”

I check my watch. “Only about five minutes.”

Technically not a lie. He didn’t ask how long I’d been exercising.

Gamma Austin gives me a slight smirk, like he knows exactly how long I’ve been out here. I ignore it, shove my book away, and move towards the centre of the field to start stretching.

Blood Moon’s training facilities are something most packs can only dream about. The field is massive, big enough that multiple groups can train at once, which is good, because at times there can me over 200 wolves training at once. Then there’s the training centre, the state-of-the-art facility has everything our warriors could ever need.

As more wolves gather for the early session, I drift towards the back of the group, keeping my head down. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to train. With this many wolves around, it’s easy to blend in. Most of the wolves training this early are warriors, at least four years older than me. The other ranked members train daily, but they always stick to afternoon sessions. My brother and his friends are far too lazy to wake up for 5:30am training, and Sienna and Abby wouldn’t dream of joining me this early either.

It’s just me. The one desperate enough to treat every session like it’s a lifeline.

Because it is.

I’ve been clawing my way through the ranks, finally making it into the advanced group about a month ago. And four weeks ago, Delta Greg invited me to join the elite sessions on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

I’m still buzzing about that.

It means I’m closer. Closer to freedom. Away from my father, away from the constant eyes on me, and into a future I can finally control.

We all know where we stand, so as the wolves gather, we naturally split into our groups, beginner, intermediate, and advanced, each with a trainer. I head to the advanced section, keeping to myself as always, but with a little extra spring in my step. Every session, every drill, is one step closer to getting out.

Gamma Austin is leading our group this morning. I watch closely as he talks us through the attack combination we’re working on today. My blood hums with anticipation. We’ve been focused on defence for weeks, and I can’t wait to finally be allowed to hit something.

We pair up, and predictably, I’m left on my own. Austin comes over to partner with me as usual. Honestly, I prefer it. I learn faster with him or the other trainers, and it saves me the pointless small talk.

I circle inside the sparring ring drawn on the grass, keeping my frame poised and alert like I’ve been taught. My focus locks onto Austin. He gives me a slight smile, eyes crinkling as he takes in my stance.

I feint left, pivot hard on my heel, and drive my fist upward in a tight arc. He blocks, but only just. His eyes widen, surprise flashing before pride takes its place, and then he grins.

“Excellent. You’re getting faster and more powerful. Reset your stance immediately afterward,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, voice steady.

The others are still working through the first technique, so Austin stays with me, demonstrating a couple of more advanced moves. I mimic his steps, fine-tuning each one under his watchful eye. Once he’s satisfied, he moves on to the rest of the group, leaving me to drill alone.

The session ramps up. We transition into grappling, and the burn in my muscles turns sharp and familiar. I execute a shoulder throw and send Gamma Austin to the ground with a satisfying thud. He recovers instantly, of course, and we flow straight into counters and reversals. I duck under his outstretched arm, twist to his side, and lock his arm behind his back in a textbook hammerlock.

“Good,” he says with a nod, signalling for me to release.

Sweat drips into my eyes, but I keep my movements sharp and my mind clear. As the session ends, Gamma Austin claps me on the shoulder, smiling widely.

“Great job. Your brother can’t take me down yet, and it’s not very often someone can. You’re a fourteen-year-old wolf-less she-wolf, and you just did. Keep up the good work.”

Pride surges through me, heat rising in my cheeks. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

Praise like that from the Gamma isn’t handed out lightly. I’ll treasure it.

For half a second, something presses low in my chest.

Not pain. Not fear.

Just a strange, fleeting sense that the world is holding its breath.