[POV: Draven]
The morning sun cast long shadows across the war room as I stepped inside, Piper at my side. The Junior Warriors stood in a semi-circle, alert, eyes sharp with expectation. Fresh marks, fresh pride, fresh energy—they were hungry to prove themselves, and I respected that.
But they were still new. Still green. And it was my job to make sure they didn't mistake pride for invincibility. "Let's begin," I said, voice cutting clean through the murmurs.
Piper stepped forward first, her arms crossed, gaze steady as stone. "From today forward, you carry real weight in this pack. You're responsible for its borders, its safety, its people. That means full patrols, emergency readiness drills, and response duty during potential attacks. Sloppy gets people killed. We don't allow sloppy here."
I watched their faces shift—some hardened with determination, others paled slightly at the weight of her words. Good. They needed to understand the gravity of what they were stepping into. This wasn't a game anymore.
"You'll also begin shadow coordination with Senior Warriors," I added, stepping into the briefing. "And you'll receive intel briefings weekly on the state of our alliances and enemies. Knowledge is as important as strength in keeping this pack safe." I turned to the map on the wall, tapping key markers.
"We have formal alliances with Stormhowl and Moonveil packs. If we're attacked, they answer. But don't get comfortable—proximity doesn't guarantee protection. Shadowfang and Thornridge are still wild cards. If they test our borders, you hold the line until help arrives. No heroes. No risks. You hold."
As I turned back to face them, something hit me. A scent. Pine. Snowdrops. Faint but distinct. Crisp, clean, yet maddeningly warm beneath it all—like winter sunlight on bare skin.
The recognition struck like lightning. I'd noticed it before—all the time—but I'd never let it affect me. Until now.
Until Sirius surged forward, teeth bared, 'mine' echoing like thunder in my skull, drowning out everything else.
My hands clenched behind my back, knuckles going white with the effort of restraint. Focus.
But it was too late. The scent clouded my mind, tangling with the memory of him—how he looked beneath the moonlight, silver-blonde hair glowing like starlight. How he'd trembled in my arms during his first shift. How his soft breath had brushed my throat when I held him close, guiding him through the transformation.
Across the room, Atlas shifted awkwardly, his weight moving from one foot to the other. He must've sensed something—sensed me. His blue eyes flicked up for a second, cautious, unreadable, before dropping back down to the floor.
He didn't speak. Neither did I. I forced myself to breathe, cooling the fire that had ignited low in my chest with sheer willpower. This was neither the time nor the place.
"Now," I said sharply, dragging the focus back to the task at hand. "Let's talk about leadership." Their attention snapped back to me immediately.
"A strong unit needs a point of command," I continued, grateful for the distraction. "Today, one of you will be chosen to lead this group." A murmur spread through the Junior Warriors, curious and excited.
"A little test," I explained. "I'll be hiding in the forest. Somewhere within the west training range. You should already know it well from the trials and your patrol training. But this time, you'll find me without tracking by scent or speed. You'll need strategy. Observation. Stealth."
Piper stepped forward again, a predatory glint in her eyes. "And you'll have to do it without alerting me. I'll be hunting you the entire time. If I catch you, you're out."
"You have one hour," I finished. "Whoever finds me first—without getting caught—leads."
And with that, I vanished into the trees. Forty-two minutes in, crouched low near the old hollowed tree by the ravine, I heard the faintest whisper of breath behind me. So faint that anyone less attuned would have missed it entirely. Noelle. She stepped into view, sharp-eyed and grinning with triumph. "Found you."
I gave her a single nod of acknowledgment. "Well done."
Not even thirty seconds later, Atlas appeared, emerging from the brush silently, eyes narrowed in concentration—until they widened in surprise at the sight of Noelle already standing beside me.
His lips parted, and for a brief second, disappointment flickered in his gaze. He quickly masked it, giving a nod instead. "Second place," he muttered.
"Not bad," Noelle said, glancing at him. "You were right behind me."
I stood up fully, brushing dirt from my hands. "The leadership position goes to Noelle. She earned it. But I'll allow her to name a second-in-command if she sees fit."
Noelle grinned broadly. "Then it's Atlas. No question."
I raised a brow but didn't argue. "So be it."
The sun had just begun to dip beyond the treetops as we made our way back to the pack house. Noelle jogged ahead, eager to tell Emmett and Russell the news, leaving Atlas and me trailing behind in awkward silence.
I didn't look at him, didn't speak. But I felt him. Every step, every breath. His scent wrapped around me like a slow, tightening noose, impossible to escape. Then came his voice—soft and hesitant.
"Alpha Draven." I flinched at the sound of my title on his lips. He cleared his throat. "I just… I wanted to say thank you. For what you did. The night before the final trial."
I didn't answer, keeping my gaze straight ahead. "You helped me," he went on, undeterred by my silence. "When I was falling apart. You stayed with me. You didn't have to do that."
His voice grew a little lighter, a small smile weaving through the words. "And then guiding me through the shift… I don't know if I would've made it without you."
I stopped walking. He stopped too, confusion flickering across his face. His lips were slightly parted, a faint smile still hovering there. Too soft. Too close. Too much.
I stared at him for a bit too long. At the way the fading light caught in his silver-blonde hair. The way his mark peeked just barely through the open collar of his shirt. At the curve of his mouth as he said my name again, questioning. And I snapped.
"You need to do something about your scent," I bit out, voice harsh and low. "Your pheromones."
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"
"They're disruptive," I said coldly, stepping back to put distance between us. "Distracting. Handle it." His expression froze, the warmth draining from his face. "And until you do," I continued, unable to stop the cruel words, "don't come near me."
Silence. Thick. Crushing. Hurt. I didn't look at him again. I couldn't bear to see what my words had done.
Instead, I shifted—black fur ripping through skin, Sirius exploding forward with a howl of frustration—and bolted into the trees, needing space, needing air, needing distance from the man who was destroying every wall I'd ever built.
But his scent clung to me still. And no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't get it out of my lungs.