“No.” He doesn’t elaborate.
I stand awkwardly, waiting for him to explain further, but instead he turns away from the room, walking toward the door.
“Get dressed,” he says over his shoulder. “Your training begins in the East Chamber.”
After he leaves, I find exercise clothing laid out for me, practical but well-made. Leggings and a shirt in deep forest green, with soft shoes that fit perfectly. Everything seems tailored to my size, which raises questions I don’t have time to consider.
I move about our chambers, feeling half a thief in borrowed finery. The clothing, his mother’s room, the freedom to explore—it all feels like a dream from which I’ll wake at any moment. For twenty-five years, I’ve been the broken wolf, the failed shifter, useful only for a gift I can’t control. Now I’m being offered tools, training, respect. The sheer difference between my old life and this new one feels too vast to comprehend.
I return to the library, running my fingers along the spines of the ancient books. Some are written with symbols I don’t recognize, their bindings cracked with age. Others appear newer, journals filled with handwritten notes. Knowledge from one seer to another, preserved for a future she may have foreseen.
As I prepare to leave, I catch sight of myself in a polished silver mirror. The woman who looks back is someone I barely recognize. She stands straighter, color in her cheeks, aclaiming mark vivid against her throat. There’s something different in her eyes too, the faintest glimmer of hope.
I touch the mark, feeling Ryker’s power pulse in response. Through our bond, I sense his impatience, his eagerness to begin whatever training he has planned. But beneath that runs a deeper current—determination.
Taking a deep breath, I leave our chambers, following the pull of our bond through the stone corridors. Whatever comes next, I am no longer the broken wolf of Silvercrest Pack.
I am Kitara, Female Alpha of the Shadowmist Pack, and mate to the Shadowmist alpha. And for the first time in my life, that might be enough.
Chapter
Ten
The East Chamber is yet another cavern. Unlike the residential areas with their polished floors and comfortable furnishings, this space feels ancient and raw. The unfinished stone walls rise to a natural dome high above, where a circular opening allows a beam of sunlight to pierce the dimness. The light creates a perfect circle on the chamber floor, illuminating a design carved into the stone—a crescent moon embracing a starburst pattern.
Ryker waits in the center of the light circle, his massive frame seeming somehow larger in this space. Around the chamber’s edges, I spot other wolves. Lithia stands with arms crossed, her silver eyes watchful. Dane leans against a column, his gaze steady, his posture deceptively relaxed. He shares his sister’s height and elegance, the same striking bone structure, the same pale silver-blue eyes that gleam like frost under moonlight. But where Lithia is carved from ice and discipline, Dane radiates a gentle warmth.
His hair is the same white blond, though shorter, and tousled rather than slicked back. He watches with the intensity of someone who’s always listening.
I turn my attention to the others in the room; I don’t recognize those that observe from the shadows.
An audience. My stomach tightens with anxiety.
“Don’t mind them,” Ryker says as I approach, reading my hesitation. “They’re here to learn, not judge.”
I’m not convinced, but I step into the circle of light regardless, feeling exposed under the gazes of so many wolves.
“What exactly are we doing?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Testing boundaries.” Ryker circles me slowly, his movements deliberate. “Your gift has been abused for years, ripped out when convenient, ignored when not. We’re going to see what happens when it’s actually nurtured.”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten. No one has ever described my treatment in such terms—abuse. It was alwaysnecessityordutyorservice to the pack. Never something done to me, but rather something expected from me.
“How?” I ask.
“By learning to access your gift voluntarily first.” He stops behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him against my back. “No more bleeding. No more pain.”
I can’t help my skeptical laugh. “That’s not how it works. The visions come when they want to, or they’re forced. There’s no middle ground.”
“There is.” His hands come to rest on my shoulders, firm but gentle. “Cheyenne found it. You will too.”
Before I can process this, he continues, his voice pitched for the entire chamber to hear. “A seer’s gift operates on three levels. First, passive visions, dreams, flashes, impressions that come unbidden. Second, focused sight, deliberately turning your attention to a specific person, place, or event to see its possible futures or pasts. Third, immersive vision. Completely entering a prophetic state to witness events in their fullness.”
His hands slide down my arms, leaving fire in their wake. “You’ve experienced the first naturally. The third has been forced from you, at great cost. Today, we’ll work on the second.”
“How?” I ask again, my voice barely a whisper.
I feel his smile against my hair. “By giving your wolf something to protect.”
