C5

"Good afternoon, Rhea Callahan. You were not here when I conducted the final security briefing for the expansion territory, which is a lapse I find quite bothersome."

"I was finishing my clearance at the Ravenfall station, Vivienne. I assume a pack coordinator of your standing understands the bureaucracy of the US Expansion borders?"

"I am Vivienne Laurent. I oversee the Wolfe Estate, the logistics, and the staff. My purpose is to ensure the Alpha’s focus remains on the Blackport territory and the pro-hockey trials. If you have a need, a grievance, or a request, you bring it to me. I am on call twenty-four hours a day. Do not bother Alpha Dominic with trivialities."

"Understood, Vivienne. I’ll keep my 'trivialities' to myself and my focus on the ice."

"Good. Here is the folder containing your non-disclosure agreement, your territorial conduct contract, and the training schedule. Your primary role is to get Lydia Wolfe ready for the elite trials. Her tutors handle the academics; you handle the physical and mental stamina. You have Mondays off. Sundays are for pack meditation at the Blackport cathedral, though as a Ravenfall wolf, your attendance is optional."

"I’ll take the Mondays. As for the cathedral, I’ll decide once I’ve seen how much of a prayer this assignment actually needs. This schedule says 5:00 AM drills followed by... combat training? She’s a hockey player, Vivienne, not a gladiator."

"In the Wolfe Pack, we do not distinguish between the two. Self-defense and tactical dominance take precedence over all things. The Alpha insists on it. Even for you, Miss Callahan."

"You want me in the combat pits? I’m a trainer, not a brawler."

"You will participate in the basic maneuvers to ensure you can protect the girl if there is a breach in the perimeter or an incident on the road. Mishaps are a reality of high-ranking bloodlines. We expect you to be ready."

"Why exactly are we expecting mishaps in a high-security Alpha estate? Does Dominic have that many enemies, or is the Blackport territory just that unstable?"

"You will find your answers in time. For now, know that you are dining with the Alpha tonight. He wants a full report on your initial assessment of the facilities and the synthetic ice."

"I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say. Is Lydia ready for our first session?"

"She is in the dining hall. I suggest you begin the bonding process immediately. She has informally chosen you, but she is a fickle creature."

"Then let’s see if she still wants me around after a few hours of conditioning. Lead the way."

I walked into the formal dining room, and the sight of it made my wolf pace with agitation. The room was cold, grand, and far too stiff for a girl who should have been dreaming of power plays and slap shots. Lydia sat at a table that could have seated thirty, looking like a tiny, lonely bird in a golden cage.

"This is a bit much, don't you think, Lydia? Eating in a room that smells like a board meeting? Shall we find somewhere with a bit more soul?"

"Miss Callahan, the Alpha prefers the formal hall for all—"

"The Alpha isn't here, Margaret. Lydia, what do you say? There’s a sunroom by the back gardens with a view of the training rinks. It’s got a table that doesn't require a megaphone to talk across. Want to move?"

Lydia’s eyes lit up with a spark of rebellion I hadn't seen yet. She nodded, her movements quick and eager.

"Vivienne, tell the kitchen staff to move the service. We're going to the sunroom. It’s hard to build an athlete in a museum."

"The Alpha will hear of this change in protocol."

"Tell him. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated by my choice of seating. Come on, Lydia."

We settled into the smaller room, the sunlight hitting the synthetic ice outside. The meal was high-protein—grilled chicken and greens. Lydia picked at her vegetables with a mechanical, joyless precision.

"You're very disciplined with those greens, Lydia. Do you actually like kale, or are you just trying to impress me?"

She shook her head, her face neutral, her eyes focused on her plate.

"Then why the perfect performance? Most pups your age would be trying to feed that to a hound or hide it under the napkin. You eat like you’re being graded."

She reached into her kit, pulled out her pad, and scribbled a single word before sliding it across the table.

Him.

"Who is 'him,' Lydia? Your brother? The Alpha?"

She didn't look up. She just took a slow sip of her water, her shoulders tensing as if a heavy shadow had just draped itself over her. I pulled the pad toward me, grabbed the pencil, and wrote beneath her word.

Why are you afraid of him?