The sound of blades clashing echoes through the yard.
But this time, I'm not the one falling.
Becca stumbles back, her stance broken for a heartbeat. I move in, elbow angled, blade tight to my side. I don't think — I move. Her dagger flashes, but I catch her off guard, and the tip of my sword presses lightly to her ribs.
She exhales, short and surprised.
"Dead," I say, a breath behind my words.
Becca blinks. Then laughs — low and proud.
"Not bad, Luna."
It's been weeks. Weeks of bruises and blood, of pain and exhaustion. Weeks of fighting through my fear, of learning to own it, sharpen it, wield it.
And now… it shows.
I lower the blade and step back. My body aches, but it's not weakness. It's the burn of becoming something new.
Something no longer prey.
Becca walks a slow circle around me. "You're ready."
I glance at her. "You said I'd never be ready."
She shrugs. "That was before you made me bleed."
I smirk.
Then I feel it — the shift in the wind. A ripple in the trees beyond the compound. Distant howls, closer now than they've ever been.
Becca notices too. Her smile fades.
"They're circling," she murmurs. "Scouting. Testing our defenses."
"Let them," I say, gripping the hilt of my blade tighter. "I've waited long enough."
A voice calls from behind us.
"My Luna."
I turn.
It's one of the scouts. He bows his head quickly.
"The Alpha returns. He's asked for you at the gates."
Becca arches a brow. "I wonder if he'll recognize you."
"I don't care if he does," I say quietly. "He's not the only one preparing for war."
I slide the blade into the sheath at my side and follow the scout, heart calm. For once, I don't feel like I'm being led into danger.
I feel like I am the danger.