Chapter Two

The training grounds buzzed with energy when we arrived. Warriors sparred in pairs, the sharp crack of fists meeting forearms echoing across the field. The scent of pine and damp earth hung in the air, familiar and grounding. Normally, this place calmed me. Today, it only made my wolf pace harder, restless and agitated.

Alexander nudged me. “You’re zoning out again.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

He didn’t believe me, but he let it go.

Lucy jogged over, bright and breathless. “Morning! Ready to get destroyed?”

“Only if you’re the one doing it.”

She grinned, her enthusiasm infectious. “Challenge accepted.”

We stretched together, but before she could tease me again, a ripple moved through the crowd.

Roman had arrived.

He didn’t just walk; he commanded the space around him. Tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair tousled as if he’d run his hands through it on the way here. His storm-gray eyes swept over the warriors, sharp and assessing.

He looked like an Alpha already.

Lucy elbowed me, her voice a whisper. “He’s staring.”

I didn’t look. “He’s probably staring at you.”

“Nope. Definitely you.”

My pulse quickened, a flutter of anxiety and something else.

Roman hadn’t spoken to me in months—not really. Not beyond clipped instructions during training. He’d built walls so high I wasn’t sure anyone could climb them.

But sometimes—like now—I felt that strange pull between us again. That invisible thread tugging tight, binding us in a way I couldn’t understand.

I hated it.

“Warm-up laps!” Alexander called, breaking the tension.

Lucy groaned, but we started running. The cold air burned my lungs, each breath a reminder of my wolf’s restlessness pressing against my skin.

Halfway through the second lap, someone fell into stride beside me.

I didn’t need to look.

Roman.

His presence was unmistakable—steady, powerful, electric. My wolf surged toward him instinctively, and I clenched my jaw, forcing her back.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

I nearly stumbled, caught off guard.

“Morning,” I managed, my heart racing.

He didn’t leave.

He stayed beside me, matching my pace effortlessly. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that every breath felt too shallow, charged with unspoken words.

When we finished, I bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he murmured, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I am.”

His jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his stormy eyes. “I’m not trying to—”

“Then don’t.”

He stepped closer, close enough that his shadow fell over me. Close enough that my wolf pressed harder, confused and desperate for his presence.

“You feel different,” he said quietly, his gaze piercing.

My breath caught. “What?”

“Your wolf.” His eyes locked onto mine, intense and searching. “She’s loud.”

“You can’t feel my wolf.”

“I can.”

The world narrowed to the space between us—thin, charged, dangerous.

I forced myself to step back, breaking the connection. “Stay out of my space.”

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, something else—but he masked it quickly, retreating behind his walls.

“Hey!” Alexander called my name, and I turned away, grateful for the distraction.

But I felt Roman’s gaze on my back the entire walk across the field, a weight I couldn’t shake.

---

By the time training ended, my body ached in a way that felt almost good—predictable. Everything my emotions weren’t.

I leaned against Alexander’s truck, waiting for him.

The necklace warmed against my skin.

Not painfully.

Just… warm.

Like a heartbeat.

I froze.

My fingers curled around the pendant, and a pulse traveled up my arm.

My wolf went still.

“El?”

I jumped, startled.

Roman stood a few feet away, watching me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“You okay?” he asked, concern etched in his features.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

I stiffened, irritation flaring. “You don’t know that.”

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing within. “I know you.”

The words hit harder than they should have, echoing in the silence between us.

Before I could respond, Alexander jogged over, breaking the moment. “Ready?”

“More than ready,” I said, climbing into the truck, relief flooding me.

Roman’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned away, leaving a tension in the air.

As we pulled out of the lot, Alexander glanced at me, concern etched on his face. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I lied, the truth pressing against my ribs, hot and insistent.

Something was happening.

To me.

To my wolf.

To the necklace.

And deep down, beneath the fear and confusion, something else stirred—an awakening I couldn’t ignore.