Chapter 93

Chapter 93
Gregory's POV

The first rejection came before I'd even finished explaining the training concept.

"Thanks, but I'm good," Garth had said, backing away from me in the pack's common room like I was contagious. "I've got enough on my plate without adding experimental projects."

That was yesterday morning. Since then, I'd heard every possible variation of "no thanks."

Nobody wanted to say it directly, but the message was clear: volunteering for the wolfless guy's training program wasn't worth the risk.

Now, twenty-four hours and seven rejections later, Zara sat across from me nursing her second cup of coffee while we went over the training scenarios I'd designed.

Around us, the morning crowd was deliberately avoiding eye contact—polite avoidance that felt worse than hostility.

"Any word from Garth or Delia?" I asked, though I already knew the answer from Zara's expression.

"Garth got 'reassigned' to border patrol duties that conveniently conflict with your demonstration time," she said, making air quotes. "Delia... well, she was more direct. Said she didn't want to risk her career on an 'experimental project.'"

I set down the training outline I'd been reviewing, pages covered with notes and modifications that seemed increasingly pointless. "How many is that now? Seven rejections?"

"Eight. Connor declined this morning." Zara's voice was carefully neutral, but I could see the frustration in her eyes. "Half of them cited 'scheduling conflicts,' but the other half were pretty clear that they think this whole thing is political suicide."

"Maybe they're right."

"Hey." Zara leaned forward, her expression sharp. I noticed she'd moved her chair closer to mine at some point, close enough that I could catch her scent—sandalwood and vanilla, warm and grounding. "Don't do that. Don't start doubting what you know just because other people are cowards."

Before I could respond, the common room door swung open and three people I didn't recognize walked in.

They moved with controlled confidence, but something about them immediately set me on edge. Too observant, too assessing.

"Shit," Zara muttered under her breath. "The assessors."

The lead figure—a woman with graying brown hair and predator-sharp eyes—scanned the room until her gaze landed on me. She approached with the kind of measured stride that suggested she was used to being the most dangerous person in any space.

"You must be Gregory," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Alpha Elena, from Nightriver Pack. These are my colleagues, Beta Wilmer from Pinehaven Pack, and Commander Vale from the Hunter's Guild."

I stood to shake her hand, acutely aware that these three people held my future in their hands. "I wasn't expecting you until next week."

"The Council decided early observation might be beneficial," Alpha Elena said, her smile polite but calculating. "We're here to assess not just your demonstration, but how you prepare for it. Leadership is as much about process as performance."

Commander Vale stepped forward, her expression skeptical. "We understand you're attempting to recruit volunteers for your evaluation demonstration. How is that progressing?"

If I told them the truth right now, this would be over before it started. "We're finalizing the participant roster," I said carefully.

"Meaning you have very few volunteers," Beta Wilmer translated, his tone not unkind but brutally accurate.

Zara stood up beside me. "Meaning the pack is being cautious about an innovative training approach," she said firmly. "Which is normal for any significant change."

"And you are?" Alpha Elena asked.

"Senior Warrior Zara. I've volunteered to participate in Gregory's demonstration."

Vale looked between us with obvious skepticism. "How many total volunteers do you have?"

The silence stretched too long. Finally, I met her gaze directly. "Currently? One confirmed participant."

"One," Wilmer repeated. "For a demonstration that's supposed to prove you can effectively train pack warriors."

"The number of initial volunteers doesn't reflect the value of the training," I said, though the words sounded weak.

"Doesn't it?" Vale challenged. "If experienced warriors don't trust your methods enough to risk their time, what does that suggest about practical application?"

I felt the old doubts creeping back in—maybe I really was just fooling myself. Maybe I'd never be anything more than what Ophelia had made me.

But then Zara stepped closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. She wasn't backing down, wasn't second-guessing this like everyone else. She still believed I could do this.

"With respect, Commander Vale," Zara said, "pack dynamics are complex. Fear of political fallout often overrides tactical curiosity. That doesn't invalidate the training itself."

"Fair point," Alpha Elena acknowledged. "However, our evaluation requires demonstration with multiple participants to assess leadership capability and group training effectiveness."

"How many participants?" I asked.

"Minimum of five," Wilmer said. "Preferably more."

Five. I had one confirmed volunteer and a week to find four more willing to risk their reputations on an untested training program.

"That won't be a problem," I lied.

The assessors exchanged glances that clearly said they didn't believe me, but they were willing to watch me fail.

"We'll be observing your recruitment efforts," Alpha Elena said. "As well as your training development process. Consider this part of the evaluation."

After they left, Zara and I didn't say anything for a while. The common room had emptied out—nobody wanted to be seen near me when assessors were taking notes. But Zara hadn't moved. She stayed right there beside me, and something about it felt different.

"Well," she said finally. "This just got significantly more complicated."

"I need four more volunteers by next week, and half the pack thinks associating with me is career suicide." I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache building. "Any brilliant ideas?"

"Actually, yes." A new voice spoke from the doorway.

Nephele stepped into the common room, shadows flickering around her feet in response to her emotions. "But you're not going to like it."

"At this point, I'll try anything," I said.

"We make the training so valuable that refusing becomes the riskier choice," she said, settling into the chair the assessors had vacated. "We demonstrate techniques that are so clearly needed that warriors start demanding inclusion."

"How?" Zara asked.

Nephele's eyes glinted with something that reminded me uncomfortably of our shared genetics. "We stage a scenario that shows exactly what happens when traditional training fails. Something public enough that the whole pack sees it, dramatic enough that it becomes obvious why they need what Gregory offers."

"You want to embarrass pack warriors publicly?" I asked.

"I want to show them their vulnerabilities in a controlled environment," she corrected. "My shadow magic can create training scenarios that traditional methods can't handle. Situations where supernatural abilities are neutralized or compromised."

Zara leaned forward, interested despite herself. "Like what?"

"Temporary sensory deprivation. Simulated magical interference with shifting abilities. Combat scenarios where enhanced strength becomes a liability rather than an advantage." Nephele's shadows writhed more actively as she spoke. "All safe, all controlled, but realistic enough to prove the point."

I looked between my sister and Zara, seeing the determination in both their faces. Five volunteers by next week, with three skeptical assessors watching my every move.

But for the first time since accepting this challenge, I didn't feel like I was begging for a chance.

I felt ready to take one.