1 - A STRAY

The taste of copper flooded my mouth the second Lachlan’s fist connected with my jaw, and the sheer force of the blow sent me skidding backward through the slick mud of the training ring.

I hit the dirt hard, but I forced myself to roll immediately to the left because I knew his heavy combat boots were already swinging toward my ribs.

"Stay down, you worthless stray," Lachlan spat, and he wiped a smear of mud from his chin while glaring down at me with glowing yellow eyes.

He was a born werewolf with heightened senses and bone-crushing strength, while I was just the human charity case the Alpha had dragged in from the slums years ago.

I pushed myself up onto my knees, and I ignored the ringing in my ears while I reached into the deep pocket of my cargo pants.

"You hit like a bitch, Lachlan," I rasped out, and I deliberately coughed a glob of bloody spit onto the toe of his expensive leather boot.

That was all it took to break his fragile ego, and he let out a guttural roar before lunging at me with his claws fully extended.

He fought dirty by aiming straight for my throat, but I had spent the last five years learning exactly how to survive monsters like him.

I slipped my heavy silver-laced wrench out of my pocket, and I ducked under his wild swing while bringing the solid metal up in a vicious arc.

The silver connected directly with the side of his knee, and the sickening crack of bone echoed across the silent training yard.

Lachlan shrieked in agony as the metal burned his skin, and he crumpled into the mud while clutching his leg and cursing my name.

I stood over him and wiped the rain from my forehead, but the fleeting rush of victory vanished the second a terrifying, low growl vibrated through the ground beneath my boots.

The crowd of young wolves surrounding the ring parted instantly, and they lowered their heads in submission while Kiefer Varric stepped into the mud.

The Alpha of the pack did not need to raise his voice to command the space, because the heavy, suffocating pressure of his aura did all the talking for him.

"What the hell is this?" Kiefer asked, and his cold, calculating gaze shifted from Lachlan’s writhing body directly to the bloody wrench in my hand.

I tightened my grip on the metal handle, and I forced my chin up even though every instinct screamed at me to look away from his glowing red eyes.

"He challenged me to a spar, and he forgot to keep his guard up," I said, and I tried to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline shaking my limbs.

Kiefer didn't even blink at my excuse, and he took a slow, deliberate step forward while the rest of the pack held their collective breath.

"You are a plague on this compound, Liora," Kiefer said softly, and the quiet contempt in his voice cut deeper than any real blow ever could.

"You sneak around, you infect my warriors with your insubordination, and you rely on cheap tricks because you are nothing but a weak human," he continued, and he didn't even bother looking at my bruised face.

I saw Darian standing near the edge of the crowd, and the Alpha's son was staring at me with a clenched jaw while his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

I waited for Darian to say something or defend me, but he just looked away and stared at the muddy ground while the silence stretched on and my heart sank.

"I'm done dealing with your messes," Kiefer announced, and he signaled for two of his elite guards to haul Lachlan away toward the infirmary.

"Pack whatever garbage you own and get out of my sight," Kiefer ordered, and he turned his back on me as if I was already a ghost.

"Are you kicking me out?" I asked, and a sudden spike of real panic pierced through my chest because I had nowhere else to go and no money to my name.

"I am sending you to Viremont Academy today, and you will stay there until you learn how to respect the hierarchy of this world," Kiefer sneered, and he walked away before I could even process the words.

Viremont was a gilded cage for the elite supernatural heirs, and sending an outcast like me into that snake pit was basically a death sentence.

I trudged back to my cramped supply closet of a room, and I grabbed my worn duffel bag from under the narrow cot before stuffing my few changes of clothes inside.

I didn't have any sentimental items to pack besides my wrench, so it only took me a few minutes to gather my entire life into one bag and zip it shut.

When I stepped back out into the chilly mountain air, I found a small group of the younger pack children huddled near the rusted chain-link fence to wait for me.

A tiny seven-year-old girl named Maya broke away from the group, and she ran up to hug my legs while burying her face in my muddy cargo pants.

"You can't leave us, Liora," Maya whimpered, and she tightened her tiny arms around my knees while the other kids watched with wide, sad eyes.

I dropped my duffel bag into the dirt, and I crouched down to her level so I could gently wipe the tears streaming down her freezing cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry over me, bug," I whispered, and I forced a reassuring smile onto my face even though my own heart felt like it was cracking in half.

"I'm just going to a fancy new school, and I'll probably learn a bunch of annoying rich-kid rules to teach you later," I joked, and I tapped her on the nose to make her giggle.

"But Lachlan said the Alpha is throwing you away," a young boy muttered from the fence, and he kicked a rock across the pavement while scowling at the main house.

"Lachlan talks a lot of shit for a guy who just got his ass handed to him by a human," I said, and I winked at the boy until a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

I hugged Maya one last time and inhaled the scent of pine and rain from her hair, because I knew I was probably never going to see these kids again.

I stood up and grabbed my bag, and I turned around to find a massive, heavily armored black SUV idling in the gravel driveway with the engine rumbling low.

The tinted rear window rolled down with a soft hum, and Darian looked out at me with an unreadable expression shadowing his sharp, aristocratic features.

"Get in the car, Liora," Darian said, and his voice was rough and exhausted, as if he had been arguing with his father behind closed doors for the last hour.