Cass’s POV

"Glad to see you’re on time. Keep it up," Garret says as I walk into the war room.

I head toward my seat, but the room feels crowded. Julia is there. I blink, surprised, looking to Colt for an explanation. He leans toward me, his voice a low vibration. "She attends these meetings to learn, just like you. Her father cleared it with Warrick."

I want to throw a tantrum, but Garret’s sharp glare silences me. "Pay attention."

"Why is she here?" I whisper, ignoring the instruction.

"She’s a general’s daughter. She wishes to learn the ways of war."

"And you’re just going to let her?"

"Yes. Why? What’s the problem?"

"Nothing," I mutter, pouting as I look away.

But there

is

a problem. She does nothing but stare at Colt. It’s irrational, I know—Colt has no interest in her—but my wolf is on edge, and emotionally, I’ve already claimed him. It is a werewolf’s nature to protect what is theirs, and the tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.

I nudge Colt. "My wolf is on edge. If she keeps this up, I won't be able to control myself."

He nods, his face grim. "I know. Do your best to ignore her. I’ll speak to her soon. I promise."

After the meeting, the walk to my father’s office feels like a slow march to the gallows. I’m terrified of my own rage.

Warrick is waiting, flanked by his generals. He paces in a tight circle, his finger tapping against his chin. "We’ll do something different today to motivate you."

He stops and points a finger at Garret. "Kill her."

"What?" Garret freezes, clearly caught off guard.

"Kill her!" Warrick bellows.

I look to Colt, panic rising in my throat, but he just mouths:

He won't.

"Use your bare hands," Warrick commands.

Garret lunges. I try to fight back, but his strength is leagues beyond mine. "Use your power to stop him, or you die!" Warrick screams.

Garret punches me in the jaw, sending me reeling. Before I can recover, his hands are around my throat. I claw at his arms, my vision tunneling.

S-st...

My consciousness snaps, and everything goes black.

I wake up in my own bed. Poppy is hovering over me, and I spot Colt in the shadows, his face etched with silent agony.

"Garret almost killed me," I raspy, my throat burning.

"The Alpha would never allow it," Poppy says softly. "He stopped him just in time."

"Warrick is insane," I growl.

Poppy sighs. "His methods are extreme, but they yield results. Rest now. I’ll get you something to soothe your throat."

As soon as the door clicks shut, Colt is at my side, his hands trembling as he checks the bruises on my neck. "I hate this. I hate that I can't protect you."

"You

do

protect me," I whisper, pulling his face down to mine.

Garret appears a moment later to offer a stiff, awkward apology. "I have no quarrel with you. I was just following orders."

After he leaves, Poppy returns. She brushes a stray hair from my forehead. "I know this isn't the family you wanted, but we are your family now. Whether you realize it or not, your brothers care about you."

She kisses my head and leaves. I’m left to stew in my confusion.

Home.

Is this home? I miss Lauren and James, the ache of their absence a constant, dull throb in my chest.

That night, I’m watching TV, trying to drown out the sounds of the pack. I catch a glimpse of warriors sprinting toward the woods—likely rogues again. It starts to rain, a heavy, rhythmic downpour that I find strangely comforting.

The next morning, the cycle begins again. The training, the hunger, the dread. By the time I walk into Warrick’s office that evening, I’m exhausted. But today, there’s a new variable: a boy, no older than sixteen, trembling in the center of the room.

"Good. You’re here," Warrick says. "Start."

"Start what? On who?" I look at the terrified boy. "I’m not doing anything to him."

"Then he dies."

"Why?" I shout. "He’s just a kid!"

"He incited insubordination. He tried to escape."

"Of course he did! Look at how you treat them!"

Warrick smiles thinly. "If you refuse to practice on him, let me show you how we handle animals in a slaughterhouse."

He draws a knife and lunges toward the boy. Without thinking, I sprint forward, grabbing Warrick’s hand mid-strike.

"Don't!" I scream.

"You think you can command me?" Warrick sneers.

"Don't you dare hurt him!"

"Fine," Warrick says, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "If you won't kill him, someone else will take his place."

He signals to the door. A guard shoves a prisoner into the room. My heart stops. My blood turns to ice.

It’s Ezra.