[POV: Atlas]
Becoming a Junior Warrior wasn't just a title. It came with responsibility, structure, and a whole new rhythm of life—one that hit me fast and hard the moment I stepped into my new role.
Piper wasted no time. She walked me through my new duties with the same steely focus she carried into battle—patrol shifts, combat training, pack border rotations, first aid drills, basic strategy assignments.
It was more demanding than I'd expected, but I welcomed it. Every exhausting moment of it. Structure kept my mind busy, my body exhausted, and my thoughts—especially the ones about him—at bay. Sort of.
I was introduced to the other Junior Warriors too. A mix of personalities—some friendly, others standoffish—but most were at least curious about me.
The new guy. The rogue who'd somehow passed all three trials and emerged with a mark above his heart. A few didn't even bother to hide their skepticism, whispering behind their hands when they thought I couldn't hear.
But I was used to that. I'd spent my whole life being underestimated and dismissed. Their opinions didn't matter. Only my work did.
Piper handed me a key after my first full day and pointed to the second-floor hallway just off the main wing. "That's yours now. It's closer to the Senior Warriors. Earned space."
I blinked, genuinely surprised. I hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected to be given anything beyond the bare minimum.
The room was small but clean, with a window overlooking the training grounds. Sunlight poured across the fresh sheets, the walls unscarred, the furniture unbroken. No stains. No memories of violence soaked into the floorboards. It was… nice. Too nice, perhaps. More than I deserved.
I stood in the center of it, unsure whether I wanted to cry or sleep. I did neither. Instead, I kept working. I kept busy. Threw myself into every task Piper assigned with a determination that bordered on obsession. But still I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Draven was everywhere and nowhere at once—present in the strength of the command structure, in every rule, every protocol, in the way the other wolves spoke his name with reverence… and in my mind. More than he should be. Far more than was safe.
And Hyde wasn't helping. "You should go see him," he murmured constantly now, a persistent warmth in the back of my consciousness. "Go for a run. Ask him to train with us. Or hunt. Just something. Anything."
"Hyde, stop," I muttered one evening, pacing my room like a caged animal.
"Why?" His voice was almost smug. "You want to. I know you do. I can feel it."
"That doesn't mean anything," I snapped. "It's just instinct. A leftover echo from the energy during the shift, or from being new to all of this. You're confused. That's all."
"No," he said simply. "I'm not confused. You are. You feel it too, Atlas. You know it's him. You've known since that first night."
My hands clenched at my sides. "He's the Alpha. The leader of the Crimson Fang. We're nothing alike. He's everything I'm not."
"We are his," Hyde insisted, his certainty unwavering. "He's our mate. Sirius knows it too. I felt him that night we ran together—he wants us just as much."
"No," I whispered, breath catching painfully in my chest. "We can't be. I won't believe it."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not enough!" I finally exploded, the words tearing out of me like they'd been building for years. "Because he's power and command and strength—and I'm barely holding myself together. He deserves someone who matches him. Someone who belongs by his side. Someone strong and capable and whole. Not… not me."
Hyde went quiet. And for a moment, I hated his silence more than anything. Because I knew what came next. The truth I didn't want to face.
I did feel drawn to him. I couldn't stop replaying every moment we'd shared—the night he'd calmed me during my panic, when I thought I'd shatter completely. The way he'd held me in his arms, grounded me, saved me from myself.
The way he'd looked at me that day during the mark ceremony, dark eyes locked on mine like I was something more than just another warrior in his pack. Like I mattered.
And when I'd shifted for the first time—when he whispered to me through the haze of agony, guiding me through every painful, terrifying second with a patience I didn't deserve—I had felt safe. No. Not just safe. Chosen. Like I finally belonged somewhere. Like I finally mattered to someone.
Only one other person had ever made me feel that way. Evan. I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands digging into the sheets until my knuckles turned white. The memories came flooding back whether I wanted them or not.
Evan had once been my sun, the boy who made the dark days tolerable. He was the only one who ever looked at me with kindness when everyone else saw only Dominic's shadow.
He used to bring me small gifts. Tell me I was strong when I felt weak. Smile at me when I felt invisible, like I was the only person in the room. He had been my hope.
My heart had whispered that he was my mate since we were young, a quiet certainty I'd carried with me through every hardship.
And then he'd chosen him. Dominic. My own twin brother. Just like they all did. Stronger. More confident. More worthy. Better.
I wasn't even angry at Dominic anymore—not really. I was just tired. Tired of being second. Tired of being unseen. Tired of convincing myself that if I tried just a little harder, pushed just a little more, I might finally be enough.
But I never was. Not for my parents. Not for Evan. Not for anyone. And now I feared I was staring down the same heartbreak again.
What if Hyde was right? What if Draven was my true mate? What if everything in me—everything that pulled toward him, that ached when he looked away, that burned when he was near—was real? What if I let myself believe it, let myself hope for something I'd never been allowed to have?
And what if he chose someone else? My throat tightened, hot and thick with emotion. My hands curled into fists in my lap. I wasn't sure my heart could survive that again. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.
Because the truth wasn't that I didn't want him. That was the cruelest, most painful part of it all.
I wanted to run with him again, to feel his presence beside me, to hear his voice murmuring steadily through the storm inside me. I wanted to be near him, even if it made no sense, even if it terrified me.
But I also wanted to survive. To protect what was left of my battered heart. And if he looked at me the way Evan once did—soft and kind, but never real, never lasting, never choosing me when it truly mattered—only to turn and give himself to someone else again… it would break me in ways I wasn't sure I could ever repair.