Dr. Sofia Vergara's temporary laboratory in Haanshil Manor looked like someone had combined a medical clinic with a supernatural research facility, which was probably accurate given the equipment scattered across every available surface.
Hart sat on an examination table while Dr. Vergara drew what felt like his tenth vial of blood in the past hour, and tried very hard not to think about the Council's ultimatum that was now ticking down like a bomb.
"Your cellular structure is fascinating," Dr. Vergara said, labeling the vial and setting it in a centrifuge.
"The wolf genetics are attempting to activate, but your human DNA is fighting the transformation. It's creating a biological war inside your body."
"That explains why I feel like I'm being torn apart from the inside," Hart said, wincing as another wave of pain rolled through his chest.
The totem mark on his wrist pulsed hot, spreading thin lines of light up his arm that faded after a few seconds.
"The power surges are going to get worse before they stabilize," Dr. Vergara continued, pulling up genetic scans on her laptop.
"Your Original Bloodline markers are at eighty-seven percent, which means when your wolf finally emerges, you'll be significantly stronger than any normal werewolf. The problem is your human body doesn't know how to handle that much power."
"So what do I do?"
"You learn control," Cole said from the doorway, and Hart's body responded to his presence immediately, the bond humming with warmth.
"Jethro's going to train you, starting today. You need to understand your strength, your speed, and how to stop yourself from accidentally killing someone when the power surges hit."
Hart thought about Thomas, the young wolf he'd nearly killed during yesterday's sparring session, and his stomach turned.
"What if I can't control it? What if I hurt someone else?"
"Then you learn from it and do better next time," Cole said, crossing to the examination table and tilting Hart's face up to meet his eyes.
"You're not going to master this in a week, Hart. Nobody expects perfection. We just need to prove to the Council that you're making progress and you're not a danger to pack members."
"Thomas's family expects perfection," Hart said quietly. "They were looking at me like I'm a monster yesterday."
"Thomas's family is angry because their son got hurt," Jethro said, appearing behind Cole with his usual silent efficiency.
"But Thomas himself told them it was an accident and he doesn't blame you. You need to stop beating yourself up and start focusing on control."
Hart nodded, though the guilt still sat heavy in his chest. Dr. Vergara handed him a bottle of pills that looked suspiciously like vitamins.
"Take two of these every morning. They'll help stabilize your metabolism while your body adjusts to the transformation. And avoid stress as much as possible, which I realize is ironic given your current situation."
"Stress avoidance, sure, I'll get right on that," Hart said, pocketing the bottle.
The training grounds behind Haanshil Manor were significantly more intimidating in daylight, all packed dirt and practice weapons and wolves who moved with the kind of casual grace that came from centuries of combat experience.
Hart stood in the center of the ring wearing workout clothes that Cole had provided, facing Jethro who looked like he was preparing to put Hart through hell and would enjoy every second of it.
"Rule one," Jethro said, circling Hart slowly. "When the power surge hits, you don't fight it. You redirect it. Fighting makes it worse."
"How do I redirect something I can't control?"
"You learn what triggers it," Jethro said, and lunged forward fast enough that Hart barely had time to react.
Hart's body moved on instinct, his arm coming up to block Jethro's strike, and the impact sent a shockwave through the training ground that cracked the dirt beneath their feet.
Jethro staggered back, his eyes widening slightly. "Okay, so physical contact is definitely a trigger."
Hart stared at his hand, which was glowing faintly with that same white light from the totem mark. "I didn't mean to do that."
"I know, that's why we're training," Jethro said, shaking out his arm. "Again, and this time, when you feel the power building, try to pull it back instead of pushing it out."
They went again, and again, and again until Hart lost count of how many times Jethro came at him and how many times Hart accidentally sent him flying with supernatural strength he couldn't control.
By the third hour, Hart was exhausted and frustrated and the totem mark was burning constantly, spreading lines of light across his chest that wouldn't fade anymore.
"Break time," Jethro called, and Hart collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard.
A young wolf approached with water bottles, and Hart recognized him immediately as Thomas, the wolf he'd injured yesterday. His left arm was still bandaged, and he moved carefully like his ribs hurt.
"I wanted to say thank you," Thomas said, offering Hart a water bottle. "For what you did at the factory. My cousin was one of the wolves you saved when the building collapsed. If you hadn't used the totem's power to pull people out, she would have died."
Hart took the water, surprised. "I thought you'd hate me for what happened during training."
"You lost control during a practice fight," Thomas said with a shrug. "It happens. My uncle once accidentally broke his training partner's spine when he was learning to shift. You're doing better than most people would in your situation."
Before Hart could respond, the totem mark flared hot and bright, and pain exploded through Hart's entire body like someone had set his nerves on fire.
He heard himself screaming, felt his body convulsing, and through the agony he was aware of wolves shouting and Cole's presence suddenly close.
The power surge was worse than anything before, building and building until Hart was sure he was going to explode from the pressure.
His hand shot out without his permission, and white light blasted from his palm in a wide arc that hit three wolves who'd been standing nearby.
They flew backward, slamming into the manor's stone wall hard enough to crack it, and when the light finally faded, Hart collapsed forward into Cole's arms.
"Get Dr. Vergara," Cole snapped at someone, and Hart felt him gathering Hart against his chest. "Now!"
Through blurring vision, Hart saw the three wolves he'd hit struggling to stand, all of them injured and bleeding.
One of them was a female wolf he'd seen at the pack meeting, and the way she looked at him now was pure fear mixed with anger.
"He's too dangerous," someone shouted from the crowd that had gathered. "He can't control it, and he's going to kill someone if we let him stay here!"
"Everyone back to their duties," Cole's voice carried that Alpha command that made wolves obey without question. "Training is over for today."
Hart tried to apologize, tried to explain that he hadn't meant to hurt anyone, but the words wouldn't come.
The pain was too much, the power still surging under his skin like lightning looking for a target, and all he could do was hold onto Cole and try not to hurt him too.
"I've got you," Cole murmured against Hart's hair. "Just breathe, I've got you."
But Hart could feel the pack's fear and anger through the bond he was developing with the territory, could sense their doubt about whether he belonged here at all.
And the worst part was that he wasn't sure they were wrong.