Chapter 54
[ 1,254 words ]
Aria
Barric is right.
I hate that he is—but he is.
The truth sits heavy in my chest as I stand in the middle of the training field, my muscles already protesting from the warm-up Barric insisted was “light.” My lungs burn, my pulse still hasn’t settled, and there’s a faint tremor in my hands I try to hide.
Liam could have been hurt.
The memory flashes sharp and fast—too fast to stop.
The fear.
The chaos.
The way something inside me snapped loose, and my wolf surged forward, taking control before I even understood what was happening.
If she hadn’t…
I swallow hard.
“I would’ve frozen,” I mutter.
You did freeze, my wolf corrects, her voice low and steady in my mind.
I didn’t.
I won’t ever let anything hurt you or our pack.
Her words fill me with a sense of warmth I don’t expect.
There is no judgment in her tone.
Just an unshakable understanding that she is there for me when I need her.
That I’m not alone.
I know.
And that somehow makes it worse.
Relying on yourself is one thing, but having people you want to fight for, people you want to project just as much as they want to protect you, that is harrowing.
Across from me, Barric watches with arms crossed, his sharp gaze missing nothing.
Beside him, Kade stands quieter, but no less intense.
They’re waiting.
For me.
“For what it’s worth,” I say, lifting my chin, “I agree with you.”
Barric raises a brow.
“That so?”
I nod, forcing the words out.
“I need to get stronger. I refuse to be the reason anyone else gets hurt.”
My wolf hums in approval.
“I need to be able to protect the people I care about,” I continue, my voice steadying as I go.
“And that means I can’t hesitate. I can’t… lose control like that again.”
Kade steps forward slightly.
“Control isn’t about forcing your wolf down.”
I glance at him.
“It’s about working with her,” he adds.
My wolf shifts, interested.
Our mate is right.
We are a team.
One.
Barric nods once.
“Then let’s stop talking about it.”
A slow, almost dangerous smile curves his lips.
“And start fixing it.”
***
I regret everything.
That’s my first coherent thought as I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Again.
“Get up,” Barric says, not unkindly—but not softly either.
“I am up,” I groan, rolling onto my side.
“You’re on the ground.”
“Temporarily.”
My wolf snorts.
Pathetic.
“Traitor,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” Barric asks.
“Nothing!”
I push myself upright, legs shaking slightly as I regain my footing.
We’ve been at this for… I don’t even know how long.
Conditioning, Barric called it.
Which apparently means running until my vision blurs, followed by strength drills that make my arms feel like they’re going to fall off, followed by him knocking me on my back every time I think I’ve figured something out.
“Again,” he says.
I lunge this time, faster.
He sidesteps.
I pivot, aiming for his side—
—and he catches my wrist, twists, and suddenly I’m airborne.
I land with a grunt.
“Too predictable,” he says.
“I’m trying not to die,” I snap.
“Then try harder.”
My wolf growls.
Hit him.
“I am hitting him!”
No, she corrects.
You are flailing.
I grit my teeth and push up again.
Sweat drips down my spine, my hair sticking to the back of my neck.
Every muscle aches, but there’s something else too—something sharper.
Determination.
I go again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, I get a little closer.
Each time, I last a little longer before I’m on the ground.
By the time Barric finally calls for a break, I’m bent over, hands on my knees, dragging in air as I’ve never breathed before.
“Water,” Kade says, handing me a bottle.
I take it gratefully, downing half of it in one go.
“I hate him,” I gasp.
Kade’s lips twitch.
“He knows.”
“I can hear you,” Barric calls from across the field.
“Good!”
My wolf huffs, amused.
You don’t hate him.
“No,” I admit under my breath.
“I don’t.”
I hate how right he is.
***
We don’t stop.
We just… shift.
Barric steps back, and Kade takes his place.
The difference is immediate.
Where Barric is force—direct, relentless, Kade is something else entirely.
Quieter.
Sharper.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
I blink at him.
“You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
No.
No, he really doesn’t.
I sigh and close my eyes.
“Breathe,” he instructs.
“I am breathing.”
“Not like that.”
I open one eye.
“There are different ways to breathe now?”
“Yes.”
I close it again with a muttered, “Of course there are.”
Kade’s voice lowers.
“Slow it down. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
I do it.
At first, it feels pointless.
Then… something shifts.
The pounding of my heart starts to steady.
The ache in my muscles doesn’t disappear, but it dulls at the edges.
“Now,” Kade says, “listen.”
“To what?”
“Everything.”
I focus.
At first, it’s just noise.
Wind through the trees.
Distant birds.
My own breathing.
Then my wolf pushes forward.
Let me.
I hesitate.
Then I let her.
The world sharpens.
I can hear Barric’s footsteps as he paces.
The rustle of leaves as something small moves through the underbrush.
The faint creak of wood from the cabins in the distance.
“Good,” Kade murmurs.
“Now move.”
My eyes snap open.
“With my eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Trust yourself.”
Trust me, my wolf adds.
I hesitate for half a second.
Then I close my eyes again.
And step forward.
It’s awkward at first.
Uncertain.
Then—
Something clicks.
I feel where Kade is.
Not see.
Not hear exactly.
Just… know.
I move toward him.
He shifts.
I follow.
“Again,” he says.
We repeat it.
Over and over.
Until I’m not second-guessing every step.
Until my movements start to smooth out.
Until I stop feeling like I’m about to trip over my own feet.
When I finally open my eyes again, the world looks… different.
Sharper.
Clearer.
“You see?” Kade says.
I nod slowly.
“Yeah.”
My wolf purrs.
Better.
The rest of training is a blur.
Barric returns, pushing me through drills that leave my arms shaking and my legs barely holding me up.
Kade weaves in and out, correcting my stance, adjusting my breathing, reminding me—constantly—to listen to my wolf instead of fighting her.
By the time the sun starts to dip, I’m done.
Completely.
Utterly.
Done.
I collapse onto the grass with a groan, staring up at the sky.
“I’m dead,” I declare.
“You’re alive,” Barric corrects.
“Debatable.”
Kade chuckles softly, dropping down beside me.
Sweat cools on my skin, and for a moment, I let myself just… exist.
No pressure.
No expectations.
Just breathe.
My wolf settles too, stretched out lazily in the back of my mind.
You did well, she says.
I blink.
“Was that a compliment?”
Don’t get used to it.
A small smile tugs at my lips.
But it doesn’t last.
Because the weight from earlier comes rushing back in.
The conversation.
The warning.
The word that hasn’t stopped echoing in my head.
Veil.
I sit up abruptly.
Barric notices immediately.
“What is it?”
I look between him and Kade.
“You said you’d explain,” I remind him.
Barric exhales slowly, like he was hoping I’d forgotten.
I didn’t.
“I trained,” I add.
“Your way.”
Kade’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“Now I want answers.”
Silence stretches between us.
Then Barric pushes off the ground, running a hand through his hair.
“Alright,” he says.
My chest tightens.
“What is the Veil?” I ask.
Barric and Kade exchange a look.
Not reassuring.
Not even a little.
Finally, Barric speaks.
“It’s the barrier between our world and the human one.”
I frown.
“But… we’re in the same world.”
“Yes,” he says.
“And no.”
Helpful.
“Try again,” I deadpan.
Kade huffs a quiet laugh.
Barric shoots him a look before continuing.
“The Veil hides us. It keeps humans from seeing what we really are. It dulls their perception, twists what they think they see into something… explainable.”
I think back to Wyatt’s words.
“Shifters are being seen anyway,” I say.
“Exactly,” Kade replies.
A chill runs down my spine.
“And if it’s weakening?” I ask.
Barric’s jaw tightens.
“Then more humans will start seeing the truth.”
“And freaking out,” I add.
“Best case scenario,” Kade says grimly.
I swallow.
“And worst case?”
Barric meets my gaze, his expression hard.
“War.”
The word lands like a blow.
My wolf rises instantly, alert and tense.
Then we fight.
I close my eyes briefly.
I just learned how to stay on my feet for more than ten seconds.
And now we’re talking about war.
I let out a slow breath, then look back at them.
“Then I guess,” I say, pushing myself to stand despite my protesting body, “it’s a good thing we started training.”
Barric studies me for a long moment.
Then he nods.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
“It is.”
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