Aria
The morning sun was barely peeking over the trees when Alpha Ryle’s voice boomed across the courtyard. His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. I already knew whatever came next would sting.
“You’ll join the warrior training starting today,” he announced loudly, making sure the gathered wolves heard. “It’s time you shed some weight.”
The words struck like a slap. Shed weight. As if I was nothing but numbers and shame. My spine stiffened, but I didn’t speak. What would I even say? That I already hated this body more than he ever could? That I was tired of pretending I didn’t hear the whispers?
I nodded once and turned away, teeth digging into the inside of my cheek.
By the time I reached the training field, the others were already warming up. Shirtless warriors sparred in the dust. Calla stood front and center—tall, lean, perfect. The same she-wolf who once openly bragged about trying to win Matthew’s attention. She smirked when she saw me.
“Guess they’re letting anyone roll around on the field now,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. A few snickered. One of them muttered, “Hope she doesn’t sink into the mud.”
I tried to breathe. Keep walking. Stay small.
But Matthew was there too. I saw him standing near the edge of the field, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. His eyes were unreadable—cold, like stone. He didn’t stop them. He didn’t speak up. He just… watched.
The drills were brutal. My arms ached. My knees stung. The mud clung to my clothes, weighing me down. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t let myself cry.
“Pair up!” the trainer barked.
I was left standing alone—until Calla stepped forward with a wicked grin. “I’ll take her,” she purred. “Might be fun.”
The others chuckled. Even the trainer looked unsure. But he didn’t object.
We circled each other. Calla bounced on her toes like this was a game. My legs trembled, but my fists clenched tighter.
“Careful,” she sneered. “Wouldn’t want you to roll over and crush someone.”
And that was it. Something inside me snapped. I lunged—not like a warrior, but like a storm. My body collided with hers in a burst of mud and fury. She didn’t expect it. Her eyes widened as I drove her to the ground, slamming her flat on her back.
The crowd gasped. She looked up at me in shock—her lip split, her pride shattered. I stood, chest heaving, mud dripping from my arms. Silence hung thick in the air.
Then my gaze drifted—unintentionally—to him.
Matthew.
His brows were raised. His mouth slightly opened. For once, he wasn’t smirking or scowling. He looked… stunned. Like I had shattered the image he’d built of me—and he didn’t know how to put it back together.
But just as quickly, his eyes went cold again. He turned away. Dismissed me. As if it didn’t matter. As if I didn’t matter.
The trainer recovered, clearing his throat. “Enough!” he shouted. “Thornwyn! You think this is how Luna behaves?”
Calla groaned, still lying in the mud.
“She provoked me,” I said, voice steady, even though my heart thudded wildly.
“You’re not here to fight. You’re here to learn your place.”
“Then maybe my place isn’t beneath her heel.”
The trainer’s eyes narrowed. “Insubordination. You’ll train twice as hard. At dawn and dusk. Every day. Until I say otherwise.”
I nodded. “Fine.”
The stares followed me all the way off the field. Some are curious. Some hateful. But a few—just a few—looked almost impressed.
One of them was Elias.
He stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed. A slow smirk touched his lips as I passed him.
“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he murmured.
“Neither did I,” I breathed.
That night, my body ached in places I didn’t even know had muscles. My knees were scraped, and my palms were raw. But for once… I didn’t feel weak. I didn’t feel invisible.
I felt proud. Like I had stood up—not just to Calla, but to everything this place told me I wasn’t.
I curled under my blanket, exhausted, eyes fluttering closed. My thoughts were messy, my emotions louder than ever.
So when the knock came at the door, I almost didn’t hear it.
It opened before I could answer.
Matthew stood there, half in shadow, his hair a little damp from the night air. His eyes met mine, and I froze.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me like I was something he didn’t know how to hold. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running.
“You weren’t supposed to fight back,” he said finally, voice low. Haunted.
I stared at him. “What was I supposed to do? Let her humiliate me again?”
“I didn’t mean—” He paused. “I didn’t think you would actually—”
“Why? Because I’m not good enough to fight?” I shot back, sitting up straight. “Because I’m just the fat girl you wish wasn’t tied to your fate?”
He didn’t answer. He just looked at me like I was breaking him open and he hated that I could. Then he turned and walked away—leaving the door half open, the air heavy with all the things he didn’t say.