38

The moment I enter the training grounds as a contender, the atmosphere around me changes.

The group is observing.

Some with eager curiosity, others with skepticism, and some with blatant contempt.

I understand their perception—an Omega who has become an exile, a past Luna entering a conflict she shouldn't be in.

However, I’m indifferent.

Since they aren't aware of my experiences.

They are unaware of the nights I endured bleeding in the soil, exceeding my boundaries until my body felt only agony. They are unaware of the effort required to change from the woman who once lowered her head to a woman who will never lower it again.

Therefore, I practice.

Each day.

From sunrise until my body cries out for relief, until my chest aches, until my fists are sore from hitting skin and rock. I battle as though I’m already in the combat zone, as if Kyle is right in front of me, ready to rip me to shreds.

I won’t allow him.

I cannot allow him to.

Liam observes.

I can sense his stare from across the courtyard, where he remains by the balcony, still healing, with his arms folded over his chest. He remains silent. Does not disturb. Yet his presence is felt, strong, unyielding.

Initially, I disregard him.

Yet as the days go by, while I strive harder, quicker, and stronger—I come to understand that he isn’t the only observer.

The group is focused.

And that alters everything.

The instant they begin to view me not just as a former Luna, nor as Liam's history, but as an independent power—I transform into a danger.

I notice it in their gaze. The discomfort, the caution, the growing awareness that I am not who theyexpected I would be. That I am no longer the woman they previously overlooked.

That perhaps—just perhaps—I could triumph.

And what about Liam?

Liam gazes at me as if he’s encountering me for the first time.

His expression appears different now. Not only guilt. Not merely remorse.

However, appreciation.

And that?

That could be riskier than anything else.

The days merge into a pattern of fatigue, sweat, and injuries.

I rise before the sun appears, feeling aches in my body yet my mind clearer than ever. Each morning, I motivate myself more intensely. Each night, I collapse into bed with my muscles yearning for relaxation—only to repeat the cycle the following day.

The group observes.

They murmur when they believe I can't listen. A few are anticipating my failure. Some people are beginning to question whether I could truly succeed.

Liam observes as well.

Consistently from afar. Constantly quiet. Yet his presence remains like a silent inquiry, like a burden pushing against my back whenever I enter the training field.

He’s still mending, still recovering his strength, but I sense his gaze on me. I do not gaze at him. I do not recognize him. If I do, I could begin reflecting on the matters I hid away long ago.

And I am unable to pay for that.

Not at this moment.

Ordinary instances amid the stress:

The Triplets Stealthily Bring Snacks to Practice

I don't notice how much time has gone by until I sense a gentle pull on my sleeve.

I pivot, my breath still irregular from practice, to see Damon next to me, his face purposefully neutral—but his arms are occupied.

A tightly wrapped small bundle of fabric was pushed in my direction. “What is this?” I inquire, staring at him with blinking eyes.

His gaze shifts to my training instructor—Rhea, who has been relentlessly pushing me for hours—then returns to me. “Nourishment.”

I am uncertain. “I do not—”

“You overlooked,” Ryker interjects, showing up next to him. “Once more.”

I scowl, looking back and forth between them. I remembered. Not quite. It's simply that—when I train, when I challenge myself beyond my limits, all else disappears. Incorporating hunger.

However, the triplets have been observing.

They understand that I won't cease by myself.

Selene, the most reserved of the three, approaches last and puts a small waterskin in my empty hand.

"You need to be tough, don’t you?" she whispers. "Go ahead and eat."

My throat constricts.

They are kids, yet at times, they seem more mature than their age.

I gaze at them—their broad, eager eyes, the way they cluster together—and a deep ache forms in my chest.

I lower myself, getting to their height.

“Thanks,” I reply, my tone gentler than intended.

Selene gives a nod. Ryker grins as if it was his plan from the beginning. Damon simply huffs, grumbling, “You can show your gratitude by avoiding a blackout tomorrow.”

Just as I am about to speak again, they dash away.

Leaving me there, grasping more than simply food in my hands.

Liam Sees Her Walking with a Limp

The discomfort in my leg is not intolerable.

It's simply another pain, another injury added to an increasing assortment of bruises and strained muscles. I’ve endured tougher training.

As the session concludes and I begin heading back to my quarters, I don't hesitate to notice how I lean towards my left side. Until I listen to a voice from behind me.

"You have a limp."

I become motionless.

I recognize that voice.

Gradually, I pivot—and there he stands.

Liam is standing mere feet from me, arms folded, observing me as if he's attempting to understand something. His face is difficult to interpret, yet his gaze shifts downward to my leg.

I align myself. "I'm okay."

He remains still. "You ought to have a healer examine it."

I breathe out quickly. "I mentioned that I'm alright."

I attempt to get by him, yet his hand extends—not to seize me, not to make me halt, but merely to lightly touch my arm.

Sufficient to cause me to stop.

“Nina.”

My jaw tightens.

The manner in which he pronounces my name—it’s overwhelming. Excessively known. Excessively hazardous.

I pull my arm back. "I don't require you."

Quiet.

Then, gentler than I imagined—

"Perhaps not."

I gaze at him.

His facial expression remains unchanged. His stance remains unchanged.

Yet there’s an element in his tone that causes my stomach to clench.

"Yet you required me at one time."

It's a straightforward declaration.

No charges. No rage.

Merely a fact.

One that impacts more than any injury I’ve endured on the training field.

For a brief instant, I am unable to breathe.

For a brief instant, the burden of it all weighs down—the history, the pain, the nights spent by oneself while he remained on his throne, oblivious to what he had forfeited.

For a moment, I wish to cause him pain like he caused me.

However, I do not.

I simply turn and walk off.

Since if I remain—

I may not be capable of doing so.