Iven POV
Iven woke earlier than usual, restless and on edge.
So he went to the training grounds — his private section, far from the noise of the main field.
He preferred it that way. No eyes on him. No questions. No pity.
He threw himself into training, striking the heavy bag again and again, letting the burn in his muscles drown out his thoughts.
An hour passed. Maybe two.
Then he felt it.
A pull — soft, familiar, undeniable — drifting closer.
His mate.
How did he not sense her until she was this close?
What was she doing here?
And why the hell was Miandra bringing her?
His instincts roared, telling him to turn, to flee, to hide the mess inside him. Ariel's words echoed in his mind, irritating and inconvenient.
Fight for her.
But fuck Ariel.
She gave him the advice but not the steps.
What was he supposed to say?
What was he supposed to do?
Was he just supposed to look into her eyes like a fool?
Before he could decide, the door opened.
Miandra stepped in first… then moved aside.
And there she was.
"I'm sorry to intrude, Alpha. She asked for you," Miandra said.
He shot her a look — the witch wasn't sorry. Not even a little.
Her smirk said everything.
"It's alright," he forced out.
"I'll leave you two to it then."
She slipped out, and he watched Amaris' hand twitch — as if she almost reached for Miandra before stopping herself.
She was nervous.
He could see it in the way her fingers wrung together, in how she kept her head bowed, in how she refused to look at him.
So he spoke first.
"You wanted to see me."
The sound of his voice startled her.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Light brown eyes finally met his.
And he knew — right then, right there — that there was a reason to try.