15
Alina.
By the time we made it to training the next morning, the air in the dorm was thick enough to choke on. No one was saying much, but everything was loud anyway; the sound of Kael's boots hitting the floor too hard, the snap of Lucien's book closing, Rowan humming under his breath like he could turn tension into music. I tried to stay quiet, keep my head down, and get through the day.
It didn't work.
Training was worse than usual. The instructors had decided we needed to "push our limits," which was code for "hit each other harder and see who's still standing." I'd been paired with a werewolf student from another dorm, a broad-shouldered boy with a grin that made me want to throw something. He didn't bother holding back, and by the second round I was already gasping for air, sweat stinging my eyes.
He slammed me to the mat so hard my vision went white. The Instructor barked at me to get up. I did, shaky but standing, because I knew if I didn't, it would only get worse.
