CHAPTER 9

Training had stayed the same since the rogue sightings, staying more intense and a lot longer. The pack warriors were more tense, which made the rest of the pack nervous, especially as the drills were harsher. Her father had not only intensified the training, but he had also doubled the sessions, pushing every wolf harder than before. The rogues had rattled him, even if he refused to admit it.

“Again!” he barked as Lyra hit the ground, rolled, and sprang back to her feet.

Her muscles burned. Sweat stung her eyes. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not with her father watching. Not with the entire pack watching.

She lunged at her sparring partner, ducked under his swing, and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the dirt with a grunt.

“Good,” her father said. “But faster next time.”

Lyra swallowed her frustration and nodded.

Next time. Of course, there was a ‘but next time’, there always was from her father.

By midday, her arms trembled from the extended training. Even though it was harder and longer, she still pushed more than anyone in the pack. She needed to be the strongest. Which wasn’t hard, considering she did have her extra strength. But it didn’t stop her from training harder.  

By the time evening came around, her legs felt like jelly. But she didn’t complain. She never did. She simply pushed harder, trained longer, fought until her body screamed.

Patrol came after training, because apparently, the excessive training wasn’t enough. Lyra joined her assigned team at the edge of the pack. Five wolves. They were all older than her. All loud, confident, and relaxed in a way she couldn’t manage tonight. She just wanted the day to be over.

“Long day,” Garron said, stretching his arms. “Alpha’s in a mood.”

“When isn’t he?” Ana muttered.

The others laughed.

Lyra didn’t.

She walked at the front of the group, scanning the trees, letting their chatter fade into background noise. She preferred it that way. It was easier to think when no one was trying to talk to her. Not that they ever really included her in their conversations anyway. No one wanted to be close to the Alpha’s daughter.  

The forest was dim, the last traces of sunlight slipping through the trees.

Lyra slowed, sniffing the air for any sign of rogues.

But there were no signs of any other scents in the air, nothing. So, she kept walking.

Behind her, the others joked about training and about their lives. Their laughter echoed through the trees.

Lyra didn’t join in. She didn’t even look back. She just walked. And walked.

Then the laughter was gone.

Lyra frowned, and she glanced behind her, and stopped in her tracks.

The path behind her was empty. She looked around the trees, trying to see any sign of the team she was with.

“Garron?” she called quietly.

Silence.

“Lysa?”

Nothing. A cold prickle crawled up her spine.

Had they fallen behind? Taken a different path? Or… had they left her?

Her stomach twisted.

No. They wouldn’t do that. They were careless sometimes, but not cruel. They wouldn’t abandon the Alpha’s daughter in the woods. Would they?

Lyra inhaled deeply, trying to catch their scent. But she couldn’t catch anything, which meant they were long gone.

She exhaled slowly, forcing her heartbeat to slow back down. Panic wouldn’t help. She needed to think.

She retraced her steps… or at least she tried to. But the forest felt different now, the paths unfamiliar, the shadows deeper. She must have walked farther than she realised.

And then she noticed the trees around her were thinning. And she finally recognised where she was.

The neutral ground.

Lyra hesitated. She shouldn’t be here, especially not alone, or at night.

Not with rogues prowling, especially after the last time she was here.

But… Talia might be nearby.

The thought tugged at her chest.

Lyra looked back once more, searching for any sign of her patrol team.

Nothing.

If she was already this close, she might as well take advantage of it.

She stepped forward, crossing into the neutral zone.

Lyra sat on the fallen log, rubbing her aching arms, as she took a moment.

She didn’t expect Talia to appear. Not really. But part of her hoped. Part of her wanted to see her friend’s face, hear her voice, know she was safe after the other night.

She leaned back, letting her eyes drift shut for a moment.

She exhaled. She knew she shouldn’t stay here; it was dangerous and reckless.

Maybe she’d just wait a few minutes. Just in case Talia did come.

A twig snapped, and Lyra’s eyes flew open. She sat up straight, scanning the trees. “Talia?” she whispered.

But there was no answer. She hoped, prayed that it was Talia and not what she suspected. She knew she should have just gone home. She shouldn’t have taken the risk.

Another sound, a low rustle, like something moving carefully along the forest floor.

Lyra stood slowly, hand drifting to the knife at her belt. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then… A growl.

Lyra’s pulse spiked. The growl was close. Too close.

She turned toward the sound, only for another growl to rumble behind her. Then another. And another.

Her breath caught. They were all around her… Circling her.

The shadows shifted, shapes moving just beyond the trees. She couldn’t see them clearly, only catching flashes of fur and glints of eyes staring at her.

Rogues.

Lyra’s heart hammered against her ribs.

She tightened her grip on her knife, feet braced, senses sharp.

She was alone and outnumbered. This is where she needed her patrol team to appear.

But they didn’t; instead, the growls grew louder.

Lyra swallowed hard. “I am not dying tonight,” she whispered to herself.

The growls closed in from every direction.

She had no choice but to fight for her life.