The cold stone of the training yard bit through Luna's thin jacket, but she barely noticed. Her focus was on the laughter behind her—sharp, mocking, like knives scraping bone.
"You're pathetic, Luna," Caius sneered, his amber eyes glinting with malice. "Even your own shadow would run from you if it could."
She ground her teeth, her knuckles whitening. Every insult, every shove, every sneer had built a storm inside her—a storm she hadn't dared release.
Then came the whisper in her chest. Low. Fierce. A growl vibrating beneath her ribs. Not hers. Not entirely.
The world seemed to tilt. The laughter faltered. Luna's vision sharpened, colors brighter, sounds sharper. The Alpha's sons froze mid-step, sensing it, though they didn't understand.
Her heart pounded. Her wolf stirred.
Caius stepped closer, grinning. "Come on, Luna. Show me what—"
A ripple of shadows coiled behind him.
The boys stiffened. The air thickened. Luna felt it: the wolf inside her, awake now, hungry, aware. Her claws itched at her palms, her teeth tingled. Power thrummed in her veins, dark and intoxicating.
A sudden surge of adrenaline slammed through her, and Luna didn't hold back. She lunged—not at them, not yet—but at the space where the shadows shifted. The instinct screamed: protect, attack, survive.
Caius's eyes widened, a sharp note of fear breaking his mocking tone.
Something moved behind the boys. Something that didn't belong.
And Luna's wolf was ready.