I woke before dawn every day now, the full moon only a week away. The estate grounds had become my training ground—wide lawns turned into makeshift arenas under the cover of night. No lights except the moon and a few low lanterns. I didn’t want the triplets to see me like this: shirtless, sweat-slicked, bruises blooming across my ribs, eyes glowing amber when the wolf pushed too close to the surface.
The betas arrived after midnight. Four of them—loyal pack members who’d known me since I was a kid learning to skate. They didn’t ask questions. They just shifted partially—claws out, fangs bared—and came at me.
Tonight was brutal. I blocked a swipe from Marcus, spun, and drove my elbow into his side. He grunted but came back swinging. Another beta—Rafe—lunged low, trying to take my legs. I
