CHAPTER 3

The training grounds of Stormfall were alive with movement long before the sun had fully risen. Frost clung to the grass, glittering beneath the pale morning light. Lyra stood at the centre of the training ground, her breath steady, her muscles coiled and ready as she faced the circle of warriors around her.

“Again,” her father commanded.

Alpha Thorne’s voice cut through the cold. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Lyra didn’t need to look at him to feel the weight of his expectations pressing against her.

She lunged.

Her opponent, a broad-shouldered warrior named Garron, met her strike with a grunt, blocking her blade with his own. The clash rang through the clearing, echoing off the surrounding trees. Lyra pivoted, sweeping low, forcing Garron to stumble back. She pressed forward, relentless, her movements fluid and precise.

She never used her full strength; she knew from a young age she was abnormally strong, especially in wolf form. But she didn’t want to let it show too much. She didn’t want people to think she would only be an option to lead the pack because of it. Or her father thinking that.

But she did make it clear that she was the strongest wolf in the Stormfall pack, and she was fast, which helped her during training. She had to be seen as strong. Strong enough to lead the pack one day.

Garron swung again, but Lyra ducked beneath the arc of his blade, twisting behind him. She tapped the flat of her weapon against his ribs.

A kill strike.

The circle erupted in murmurs.

Garron lowered his blade, panting. “You’re getting faster.”

Lyra offered a tight smile. “You’re getting predictable.”

A few warriors chuckled. Garron rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Alpha Thorne stepped forward. “Good. Again.”

Lyra swallowed a sigh. Her muscles burned, her lungs ached, but she nodded and reset her stance. She didn’t complain. She never did. Complaints were weakness, and weakness was something she couldn’t afford, not as the Alpha’s daughter. And certainly not to her father.

Training lasted hours. By the time Alpha Thorne dismissed them, Lyra’s arms trembled with exhaustion. She wiped sweat from her brow and put her blade away, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension.

Warriors gathered in small groups, murmuring among themselves. Lyra caught fragments of conversation as she passed.

“Tracks near the northern ridge…”

“…rogue scent, fresh…”

“…Bloodpine wolves pushing closer…”

Her steps faltered at the mention of Bloodpine.

Her stomach twisted.

She slowed near a pair of warriors, Daren and Ana, who spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

“I’m telling you,” Daren said, “I saw movement across the border. Too many shadows for a lone scout.”

Ana frowned. “Bloodpine wouldn’t be stupid enough to provoke us now.”

“You think they care about stupid?” Daren scoffed. “They’re unpredictable and aggressive. They always have been.”

Lyra’s jaw clenched.

Aggressive. Unpredictable.

Talia’s laugh echoed in her memory. The way she’d tripped over her own feet during training. The way she’d smiled shyly when she admitted she was nineteen. And the way they lived was a very similar life.

Unpredictable? Maybe.

Aggressive? Not even close… but then again, she didn’t know Alpha Kaelan. And she had heard he was the worst.

Lyra forced herself to keep walking.

She couldn’t correct them. Couldn’t defend Bloodpine. Couldn’t reveal that she knew more than she should.

Her double life pressed against her. She needed to be careful.

She found her father near the edge of the training area, speaking with his Beta, Mira. His expression was grim.

Lyra approached just as Mira left, walking back to the pack house. She wiped her hands on her trousers. “Father.”

Alpha Thorne turned to her. “Good work today.”

The praise was rare. It should have warmed her. Instead, it only made the guilt twist deeper.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He studied her for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re distracted.”

Lyra’s pulse stumbled. “I’m tired.”

“You’re stronger than tired.” His gaze sharpened. “Something is on your mind.”

She forced her shoulders to relax. “Nothing important.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he gestured toward the treeline.

“There have been rogue sightings near our northern border,” he said. “Fresh ones.”

Lyra’s breath caught. “Rogues?”

“Yes.” His voice dropped. “And not lone rogue wolves like usual. It was a large group.”

Her heart thudded painfully.

A group of rogues near the northern border meant they were near the neutral grounds. Near where Talia met her… alone.

“Are they close to Bloodpine territory?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Her father’s eyes flicked to her, sharp and assessing. “Why does that matter?”

Lyra swallowed. “If they’re near Bloodpine, they could provoke conflict.”

“Bloodpine doesn’t need provocation,” he muttered. “They’re already restless enough, never mind aggressive and dangerous.”

Lyra’s stomach twisted again.

Her father and all of the Stormfall pack saw Bloodpine as a threat. Bloodpine likely saw Stormfall the same way. But if the rogues attacked, innocents could be hurt, or worse, killed. She needed to divert the conversation; she didn’t want him prying. One thing he was good at was reading her. And she couldn’t tell him the truth.

Lyra forced her voice steady. “What do you want me to do?”

“Stay alert,” her father said. “And stay away from the border unless you’re with a patrol team.”

Lyra nodded… she lied.

By late afternoon, the pack had dispersed. Warriors returned to their duties, pups ran through the village, and the scent of cooking meat drifted from the pack houses. Lyra should have joined them. Should have eaten, rested, trained again.

Instead, she slipped into the shadows behind the training grounds, moving silently between houses until she reached the edge of the forest.

Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from the familiar pull in her chest.

She shouldn’t meet Talia, not when there were rogues sighted. But Lyra knew Talia wasn’t the enemy. And if rogues were near the neutral grounds, she could be in danger.

That thought alone made Lyra’s decision for her.

She stepped into the trees, heading to the neutral grounds.

The deeper she went, the quieter Stormfall became. The sounds of the village faded, replaced by the rustle of leaves.

Lyra moved quickly, her senses sharp. She kept listening out for any signs of footsteps or paws. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. And if her father found out… if anyone found out, then everything would unravel.

Her reputation. Her future. Her pack’s trust.

But the thought of not going, of leaving Talia alone near where rogues were spotted, was unbearable.

She reached the clearing faster than usual, her breath uneven, her pulse thrumming with urgency.

The clearing was empty.

Lyra exhaled, tension easing slightly. She scanned the area, checking for tracks, scents, and signs of disturbance.

Nothing and relief washed over her.

Talia wasn’t here yet, which meant she was safe… for now.

Lyra sank onto the fallen log, running a hand through her hair. The guilt she’d carried all morning settled heavily in her chest.

She didn’t know how long she could keep this up. But she knew she wasn’t ready to stop.

Not when Talia’s friendship was real. All her life, she didn’t feel like she had any real friends, and now she does. Enemy or not.

She would protect Talia from her pack if she had to.

Even if it meant betraying everything she’d been raised to believe.

Even if it meant betraying her father.