Raven woke before sunrise.
The sky outside the tall windows of the guest lodge was still dark, though a faint band of pale silver stretched along the eastern horizon where the sun would soon rise. The forest surrounding Nightfall remained quiet at this early hour, the towering pine trees swaying gently in the cool mountain wind.
For a few moments she remained in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep had not come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes the battle returned.
The Ironclaw wolves bursting from the trees.
The screams.
Her mother's voice.
Run, Raven.
She sat up slowly and exhaled.
Nightfall was safe.
Or at least safer than anywhere else she could think of.
Still, her wolf remained restless beneath her skin.
A part of her had grown used to danger over the past week.
And now that the danger was gone, the quiet felt almost unsettling.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
The polished wooden floor was cool beneath her feet.
A neatly folded set of clothes rested on the chair beside the bed—simple black training pants and a fitted long sleeve shirt.
Nightfall even provided clothing for their guests.
Raven dressed quickly before stepping outside.
Morning had just begun to touch the valley.
Soft golden sunlight filtered through the towering trees surrounding Nightfall territory, casting long beams across the settlement. The air smelled of pine and cool mountain wind.
But beneath it—
The scent of wolves.
Dozens of them.
Raven inhaled slowly.
The pack was already awake.
Wolves moved along the stone pathways between buildings carrying equipment, supplies, or training weapons. Some shifted easily between wolf and human form as they worked, their movements smooth and practiced.
Everything about Nightfall felt organized.
Structured.
Strong.
Silverfang had always felt like a family.
Nightfall felt like an empire.
A distant shout caught her attention.
Then another.
The sounds of sparring.
Her curiosity pulled her toward the noise.
The training grounds spread across a wide field near the edge of the settlement.
Raven stepped onto the packed dirt and stopped to take in the sight.
The field was enormous.
Several different training areas divided the space—weapon racks filled with blades and staffs, archery targets set along the far fence, and a large circular sparring ring where wolves trained in hand-to-hand combat.
At least thirty warriors were already practicing.
Their movements were sharp.
Precise.
Disciplined.
These wolves fought like soldiers.
Not brawlers.
Raven folded her arms as she watched two warriors spar in the ring. Their strikes came so quickly she could barely follow them.
One of them noticed her watching.
He stepped away from the match and jogged toward her.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Short blond hair that caught the morning sunlight.
He carried himself with relaxed confidence.
"You must be one of the Silverfang survivors," he said.
Raven nodded.
"Raven."
He offered a friendly smile.
"Lucas."
His eyes studied her posture carefully.
"You fought during the Ironclaw attack?"
"Yes."
Lucas tilted his head slightly.
"You don't look like someone who just escaped a massacre."
Raven raised an eyebrow.
"And how exactly should someone look after that?"
Lucas chuckled.
"Fair enough."
He gestured toward the sparring ring.
"You train?"
"A little."
Lucas crossed his arms.
"A little?"
"Silverfang wasn't exactly a military pack."
Lucas grinned.
"Nightfall is."
"I noticed."
Lucas stepped backward toward the ring.
"Want to try?"
Several nearby warriors had started watching them with curiosity.
New wolves always attracted attention.
Especially survivors.
Raven hesitated.
Part of her wanted to refuse.
But another part of her—the restless part—needed movement.
Needed to burn off the tension building in her chest.
"Okay."
Lucas stepped into the ring.
Raven followed.
The ground beneath them was packed earth worn smooth by years of combat.
Lucas raised his hands casually.
"Don't worry," he said with a relaxed grin. "I promise I won't hurt the guest."
Raven tilted her head slightly.
"I'll try not to hurt you either."
A few warriors laughed.
Lucas chuckled.
"Alright then."
Without warning he moved.
Fast.
His fist came toward her shoulder in a controlled strike meant to test her reflexes.
Raven reacted instinctively.
She sidestepped.
Grabbed his wrist.
Redirected his momentum.
Lucas stumbled forward.
His eyebrows lifted.
"Oh."
The watching wolves leaned closer.
Lucas reset his stance.
"Not bad."
He attacked again.
This time faster.
A combination strike aimed toward her ribs and shoulder.
Raven blocked the first hit.
Ducked the second.
Then pushed him backward with surprising force.
Lucas slid several feet before catching his balance.
Now the laughter stopped.
The warriors around the ring exchanged looks.
Lucas stared at her.
"Okay," he said slowly.
"Maybe not that light."
He lunged again.
This time Raven's body moved before her mind could catch up.
She pivoted.
Grabbed his arm.
And flipped him cleanly over her shoulder.
Lucas hit the ground hard.
Dust rose in a soft cloud around him.
The entire training field went silent.
Raven froze.
Oh no.
Lucas blinked up at the sky.
Then—
He burst out laughing.
"Well," he said, sitting up.
"That was impressive."
The watching wolves erupted with laughter.
Raven rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
"Sorry."
Lucas stood and brushed the dirt from his shirt.
"Don't apologize," he said.
"That throw was perfect."
A tall warrior with braided hair stepped closer.
"Silverfang trained their wolves well."
Lucas nodded.
"No kidding."
Raven shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the attention.
"Maybe we should stop before I embarrass myself."
Lucas smirked.
"You already embarrassed me."
High above the training grounds, Marcel stood on the balcony overlooking the field.
Darius stood beside him.
Both had watched the entire exchange.
"Well," Darius said calmly.
"She's quick."
Marcel nodded slowly.
"Yes."
But that wasn't what held his attention.
His gaze remained fixed on Raven.
Even from this distance he could see the way she moved.
Fluid.
Natural.
Strong.
Too strong for someone her size.
His wolf stirred again.
Restless.
Interested.
Mate.
Marcel's jaw tightened slightly.
That word echoed through his instincts with alarming certainty.
His wolf clawed against the edges of his control.
Mine.
But the girl below showed no sign of feeling it.
She laughed quietly with Lucas, completely unaware.
Confusion settled heavily in Marcel's mind.
That shouldn't be possible.
Mate bonds were unmistakable.
Both wolves felt them.
Yet Raven stood below him completely unaffected.
Darius glanced sideways at him.
"You're thinking."
"I always am."
"About the girl?"
Marcel didn't answer immediately.
Then he said quietly,
"She's stronger than she should be."
Darius followed his gaze.
"Yes," he said thoughtfully.
"She is."
Raven stepped away from the ring, trying to ignore the curious looks still coming from the other warriors.
Lucas walked beside her.
"You've got talent," he said.
"Or luck."
"That wasn't luck."
Before Raven could respond, another voice joined them.
"Well," the voice said smoothly, "this is interesting."
Raven turned.
A tall man approached from the far side of the training grounds.
His dark hair was slightly messy as if he had just returned from patrol. His posture was relaxed, his expression confident.
His smile was easy.
Dangerously charming.
Lucas sighed.
"Oh great."
The man extended his hand.
"Claude."
Raven shook it.
"Raven."
Claude's smile widened slightly.
"The Silverfang survivor."
"I've heard quite a bit about you."
Raven frowned.
"That was fast."
Claude shrugged lightly.
"News travels quickly in Nightfall."
His eyes flicked toward the sparring ring where Lucas had been thrown moments earlier.
"So do impressive entrances."
Lucas rolled his eyes.
"Don't encourage her."
Claude chuckled softly.
"Oh, I definitely plan to."
Across the training grounds, Marcel watched the interaction.
And something unfamiliar stirred beneath his calm control.
Jealousy.
His wolf growled quietly.
Mine.
Marcel frowned.
This situation was becoming far more complicated than he expected