"Well, now that you've met Nicki, we can start on your training." Matt's voice carried the confident authority of someone who had trained countless wolves before me. He unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with meticulous handwriting—a detailed schedule divided into morning combat drills, afternoon weapons training, and evening strategy sessions. As he traced each line with his index finger, describing the progression from basic defensive maneuvers to advanced fighting techniques, I felt a spark ignite in my chest, spreading warmth through my limbs like wildfire. For the first time in years, possibility stretched before me like an open road.
Nicki shot me a playful grin. "Think you can keep up with me in the ring?" she teased, her tone light but tinged with challenge, and I felt my competitive spirit bubble up.
"I can try," I replied, lifting my chin a little higher, a spark of determination igniting within me.
Matt leaned forward, his muscular forearms resting on the wooden table.
The conversation flowed easily around me, laughter intermingling with friendly banter. The rich scent of fresh coffee, the gentle clinking of silverware against porcelain, and the warmth radiating from my companions made me realize that this was what I had longed for—a sense of family. I glanced at Derick, who sat across from me, and our eyes met in a moment of unspoken understanding.
After finishing breakfast, Nicki rose with an energetic "Come on," pushing back her chair with a scrape against the polished floor. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her spiky hair catching the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. I dabbed my mouth with the linen napkin, stealing one last glance at Derick. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. His fingers brushed mine across the table, sending a warm tingle up my arm.
"Have fun," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my chest. "If you need me, I'm just a call away." His thumb tapped his phone meaningfully. With a reluctant nod, I followed Nicki's retreating form through the doorway, the scent of coffee and bacon lingering in my wake.
I followed Nicki through marble corridors adorned with tapestries depicting ancient wolf battles, their threads gleaming gold and silver in the morning light. Servants in crisp navy uniforms with silver piping scampered past us, their eyes downcast and necks bowed in deference. The air smelled of lemon polish and fresh flowers. Finally, we emerged into a sunlit courtyard where fountains trickled between beds of purple and yellow marigolds. Nicki pointed across the cobblestone expanse to an imposing structure of polished granite and glass that reflected the clouds above. "That's the training hall," she announced, planting her hands on her hips, chest puffed with pride. "Three floors of combat rings, weight rooms, and simulation chambers with motion-capture technology. Everything we'll need to transform you from prey to predator." Her smile gleamed as bright as the morning dew on the courtyard roses.
We pushed through the heavy oak doors into the training hall, where the air hung thick with sweat and determination. The rhythmic clang of weights and grunts of exertion filled the cavernous space. Warriors with rippling muscles occupied every station—some bench-pressing impossibly heavy barbells, others sparring with fluid grace across blue mats. The moment we entered, the symphony of movement stuttered. A muscular blonde woman froze mid-punch. A tall man with a jagged scar across his jaw pointed at me, whispering to his partner. I felt my spine stiffen as twenty pairs of eyes locked onto me, their gazes like physical weights pressing against my skin.
Nicki stepped forward, her petite frame somehow expanding as she planted herself between me and their scrutiny. "Anyone have a problem?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest, her voice cutting through the sudden silence like a blade. They quickly averted their eyes, the cacophony of training resuming as if someone had pressed play on a paused recording.
The air held a charged energy, filled with echoes of trainers' commands and the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the mats. I was still adjusting to the palace's scale, its majestic architecture contrasted sharply with the intimate confines of Matt's apartment. Every piece of gear had its own story, the walls seemed to vibrate with the history of generations of wolves who had stepped into this very space to claim their power.
Nicki walked ahead, her spiky hair bobbing as she navigated through the organized chaos of the training hall. "This is where the magic happens," she announced with a grin, pointing at various stations equipped for different disciplines. I took it all in, my breath hitching in anticipation as we passed instructors guiding trainees through sparring drills, each exchange filled with intent and focus. Nicki ushered me toward the nearest mat, a thick, padded rectangle that seemed to welcome my uncertainty.
As she demonstrated a few basic movements, the grace of her actions drew me in. I watched intently as she moved fluidly, throwing punches with precision and control. "You've got to remember, strength isn't just about power—it's about technique. Use your surroundings to your advantage," she said, her eyes bright and focused. Then she directed her attention back to me. "Ready to give it a shot?"
Taking a deep breath, I positioned myself as she had shown, attempting to mirror her stance. "Okay, I'll give it a try," I replied, my voice steadying despite the nervousness thrumming beneath my skin.
Nicki stood in front of me, ready to guide my first attempts, and the weight of expectation hung heavily in the air. I launched a clumsy jab that she deflected effortlessly. I barely processed what happened before she had me spun, my back hitting the mat with a dull thud. I let out a gasp, the air rushing from my lungs. "Ow!" I blurted, more startled than hurt.
"Get back up," she commanded gently, helping me to my feet with surprising grace. "Let's try that again. Focus. Keep your center of gravity low."
Each time I fell, I pushed myself back up. The warm fabric of the mat became a comforting ally beneath me, absorbing the brunt of my clumsiness and disbelief. I could almost feel the sweat pooling at the base of my neck, each movement igniting a spark of defiance that fueled my determination to keep getting back on my feet. Nicki continued to encourage me, her steady presence a comforting reminder that I was not alone in this journey.
"Again!" Nicki urged, and as I lunged forward once more, a newfound clarity crystallized in my mind. The cadence of my movements synced with the thudding of my heart, igniting a fire within me that refused to flicker out. Nicki caught my wrist just before I fell, her eyes sparkling with pride. "You're getting there! Let's add some finesse now."
We practiced, the rhythm of our exchange building steadily. My muscles burned with each movement, torn between collapse and a strange, feral hunger for more. I caught Nicki watching me with narrowed eyes when I stumbled through a footwork drill, her hands demonstrating crisp precision I couldn't match. When I finally landed a move correctly, her wide smile made my chest tighten with both pride and shame—pride at her approval, shame at how desperately I craved it.
"I think that's enough for today," Nicki said, grabbing a towel and wiping her face before throwing me a clean one. I caught it, fingers trembling. Part of me wanted to throw it back, to demand we continue until I was perfect, until no one could ever hurt me again. Yet another part whispered that this was pointless—that no amount of training could undo what had already been done to me.
Nicki came up to me and clasped a hand on my shoulder. "I know that look," she said, her grin knowing. "That's the face of someone who just discovered their wolf's hunger."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. My fingers twitched at my sides, still curled into half-formed fists. I wanted to deny it, but the electricity humming through my muscles betrayed me.
"Don't be embarrassed," Nicki said, eyes glinting. "But we should stop. You still have to see Derick's parents, if I recall."
I winced, the reminder dousing my newfound fire. "Yeah, yesterday's meeting didn't exactly go well."
Following her off the mat, I caught several warriors watching me with new interest. My skin prickled under their gaze—half mortified, half thrilled to be seen as something other than prey. Nicki tossed me a water bottle from the cooler. I fumbled but caught it, gulping it down while eyeing the training equipment we were leaving behind.
"You did really well," Nicki said as she guided me out of the training hall and back through the courtyard. My muscles ached with a satisfaction I hadn't felt before, but my mind kept replaying every stumble, every time I'd hit the mat.
"Thanks," I mumbled, tasting both pride and doubt on my tongue. Part of me wanted to turn around, to demand we continue until my body couldn't move, until I became someone Josh would fear. Another part whispered that I was fooling myself—that no amount of training could erase years of powerlessness.
Nicki stopped abruptly in the middle of the courtyard, her eyes narrowing as she studied my face. I wanted to keep walking—to escape her scrutiny—but my feet refused to move. We stood relatively alone among the stone benches and flowering shrubs, yet I felt both exposed and trapped. My heart quickened, torn between the urge to pour out every fear that clawed at my insides and the instinct to guard my weakness like a wounded animal.
Nicki's eyes met mine. "I saw the newspaper," she said softly. My gaze dropped to the ground as heat crawled up my neck. Part of me wanted to run, while another part desperately needed someone to finally see the truth.
"Everyone did," she added, her voice steady where mine would have broken.
Tears blurred my vision. I blinked them back, hating how easily they came now, when I'd managed to stay dry-eyed through years of Josh's torments.
"I'm not going to pretend I understand," Nicki said, shifting her weight. "And maybe I shouldn't even—" She stopped, then continued more firmly. "But I know what it feels like when your own strength betrays you."
I looked up, caught between wanting to believe her and fearing another disappointment.
Nicki's eyes flashed with something I couldn't quite read—determination, yes, but something else lurking beneath. "We may not know each other well right now," she said, her voice hardening then softening in waves, "but I will push you until you feel you can take on the world." She paused, her fingers flexing at her sides. "Until you don't need anyone to save you again." The corner of her mouth twitched. "At least, that's what I tell myself I did." Her gaze drifted past me for a heartbeat before snapping back, fierce and certain once more.
I nodded at her, my chin dipping with newfound resolve as a grin spread across my face. I extended my hand toward her, palm open and slightly trembling from exertion. "I look forward to it," I said, my voice steadier than I expected, carrying a weight of promise. Nicki's eyes lit up with approval as she clasped her calloused palm against mine, her grip firm and warm, sending a current of solidarity through our joined hands that felt more binding than any formal agreement.