: The Week That Forged Her

[RHIANNON]

My body screamed when I woke the next morning.

Every muscle ached from yesterday's training—shoulders burning, thighs trembling even lying still, hands stiff from gripping the staff too hard for too long. Even my legs felt like they'd been beaten with the same staff I'd wielded. Red marks decorated my wrists that looked like fresh scars.

I welcomed the pain. Physical hurt was clean. Manageable. Better than the confusion twisting through my chest every time I remembered Kael's expression from the arena.

Not anger. Something softer that I refused to examine because hope was more dangerous than rejection.

'He wanted to help,' Nyx insisted, pacing restlessly. 'Let him.'

"He didn't help. He just watched." I pushed myself out of bed, ignoring the way my legs protested. "Like everyone else."

The pack grounds were quieter this early. Dawn hadn't broken yet, just grey pre-light that made everything look washed out and cold.

I should have rested. Should have listened to my body begging for mercy.

Instead, I dragged myself out of bed and dressed in the training clothes someone had left folded on the chair. Simple grey pants and a fitted shirt that didn't hide my build but didn't apologize for it either.

Dressed, I headed for the arena before anyone else could arrive.

Before the stares could start again.

I grabbed the weighted gauntlets—heavier ones this time—and began conditioning drills before my body could protest. Was I punishing myself or pushing harder? I wasn't sure which.

Cold air bit my lungs with each breath. Pain lanced through my shoulders. Good. I welcomed it. Pain meant I was still here. Still fighting. Cleaner than the confusion churning in my chest whenever I thought about Kael watching me from the ridge.

My eyes burned from crying last night, but I blinked the feeling away and started the conditioning drills Emrys had shown me weeks ago. Strikes. Blocks. Footwork that made my thighs scream.

'Look for him,' Nyx urged. 'Our mate is nearby. I can feel him.'

'No.' I blocked her out with stubborn discipline. This wasn't about him. This was about me taking control of the one thing I could—my own strength.

Kael's cedarwood-storm scent drifted on the wind sometimes, proof he was watching from somewhere, but I never looked. Never acknowledged it.

If he wanted to watch me struggle, fine. I'd give him something worth seeing.

Hours blurred together. My vision went hazy at the edges, but I pushed through another set of strikes.

My stomach turned violently.

I barely made it behind the weapons shed before I vomited, hands braced against rough wood, body heaving. Sweat dripped from my temples despite the cold.

Wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Straightened. Didn't stop. Didn't rest. Returned to the training field.

Strange how pride could bloom in moments like this—proving I wouldn't break no matter how hard they pushed me.

A shadow shifted behind me.

I turned, expecting mockery. Expecting another sneer or comment about my weight or my scars or my worthlessness.

A young girl stepped into view instead. Maybe fifteen, small-framed, with nervous eyes and brown hair pulled into a messy braid. She held out a water container, hands trembling slightly.

"You look strong today," she whispered.

"You look strong today," she whispered.

I froze. Waited for the punchline. For the cruelty disguised as kindness.

It didn't come.

I froze. My first instinct screamed pity—she felt sorry for the pathetic stranger who couldn't earn respect.

Then I saw her eyes. Genuine admiration shining there, not sympathy.

"Thank you." The words stuck in my throat.

She smiled, quick and bright, then hurried away before I could say anything else.

Something loosened in my chest. Small. Fragile. Almost like hope.

'See?' Nyx purred. 'Not everyone hates us.'

"One person doesn't erase the rest."

By midday, more wolves were at the training grounds. I moved to a corner, trying to stay invisible while working through the forms I'd memorized. My arms shook. My legs threatened mutiny. I moved to the stretching area to work the tension from my muscles before they seized completely.

Three she-wolves clustered near the weapons rack, voices low but carrying.

"—Melissa will be Luna. Everyone knows it."

My hands tightened on the staff.

"She's perfect for an Alpha. Beautiful, strong, from a good bloodline."

"Then why is he keeping that oversized omega around?"

Laughter followed. Sharp and cutting.

Nyx snarled in my head—not with hurt, but with possessive fury. 'They lie. He is ours. Make them understand—'

'Stop.' I clamped down hard on her instincts. If Kael had someone—this Melissa person they kept mentioning—then none of this mattered. The bond didn't matter. His protection didn't matter.

I refused to be someone's second choice. Someone's secret. Someone's burden.

'He hasn't claimed her,' Nyx protested.

"He hasn't claimed us either."

The walls I'd built after Laziel's rejection rose higher—stronger—reinforced with fresh hurt.

The week blurred into routine. Wake before dawn. Train until my body gave out. Force down food alone in the manor's kitchen. Sleep fitfully. Repeat.

Kael appeared at the training grounds sometimes, always at a distance, always watching. I never looked back. Couldn't afford to. Every glance felt like giving him power I couldn't spare.

A blonde woman appeared often at the arena's edge. Athletic build, attractive features, and eyes that studied me with calculation hidden behind a smile. She had to be Melissa. The one everyone said would be Luna.

The one Kael had supposedly chosen.

Seeing her made my stomach turn, but I used the nausea as fuel. Pushed harder. Trained longer. Proved I didn't need anyone's approval to exist.

The physical toll mounted. My hands developed calluses. My shoulders broadened from the constant work. The scars on my wrists seemed less prominent somehow—overshadowed by new evidence of survival.

In the fifth week, I walked through the pack grounds after training. Tried greeting wolves I passed with polite nods. Most ignored me. Some whispered when they thought I couldn't hear.

The river became my refuge. Cold water rushing over smooth stones, the sound drowning out thoughts I didn't want to examine. I sat there for hours sometimes, just breathing.

Always feeling eyes on me. Always knowing it was Kael.

I didn't know if I should feel hurt or disgusted that he watched while keeping his supposed mate hidden. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe I was just tired of caring.

By day twenty-one, my body was breaking down. I stumbled mid-strike, knees buckling, the staff clattering from my grip.

The young omega girl rushed over to help.

I held up a hand, stopping her. "I'm okay."

"You don't look okay." Concern wrinkled her forehead.

"I'm doing this for me." The admission came out softer than I meant. "Not for them. For me."

Her eyes widened with understanding. She nodded and stepped back, but she didn't leave. Just sat nearby while I caught my breath, silent support without pressure.

When I stood again, my legs held.

Something shifted that day. Younger wolves started watching me differently. Not with ridicule—with curiosity. A few began imitating my drills. A few omegas stopped avoiding eye contact when I passed. The mockery decreased—not gone, but quieter.

Kael approached the training field twice that week. I saw him from the corner of my eye, conflict written in every line of his body, but I turned away before he could reach me. My heart did something stupid and painful. Nyx cried out every time, desperate and confused.

'He is ours.'

"Not if he chose someone else."

'But he didn't—'

"Then why hasn't he said so?"

She went silent. No answer for that.

By the end of the week, something fundamental had changed.

I stood at dusk, finishing my forms. Sweat drenched my clothes. My muscles trembled with exhaustion, but I was still standing. That felt like victory.

The sky burned amber and violet above the mountains.

I was still standing.

My reflection in the weapons shed window showed someone different than the broken wolf who'd arrived a month ago.

Scarred. Stronger. No longer hiding.

I breathed deep, night air cold on my tongue, and whispered aloud, "I won't hide anymore."

A presence shifted behind me.

I turned, expecting Kael. Hoping despite myself that he'd finally explain. Finally, either claim me or reject me properly so I can stop existing in this horrible limbo.

Blonde hair caught the fading light. Athletic frame leaning against the arena entrance in a way that screamed confidence. Eyes studying me with a smile that made my skin crawl.

Melissa.

She smiled.

Not friendly. Not welcoming.

Predatory. She looked like she'd been waiting for this moment.

"We should talk," she purred, taking a step closer. "About Kael."