Chapter 51

Chapter 51
Damian’s POV

I had come to the training grounds to check on Marcus, but the moment I stepped out of the trees, I froze. Elara was already there, walking across the dirt with her head high. She was alone, surrounded by warriors, and every eye followed her like she had no right to be there.

I felt the tension in the air before anyone spoke. Whispers carried on the wind, harsh and sharp. They didn’t see her as one of them, not yet. Some still thought she was a danger, others a curse. My chest tightened. She had no claws, no wolf to bare. I should have gone to her, but I stayed where I was. Something in the way she held her shoulders told me she didn’t want saving. Not yet.

When she reached the center of the ring, the murmurs quieted. Marcus stood at her side, arms crossed. He didn’t hide his doubt. “This isn’t for you,” he told her in front of everyone. “Training is for wolves, not prisoners who—”

“I’m not a prisoner,” she cut him off. Her voice shook, but she didn’t lower her head. “I want to train.”

The ground went still. The wolves looked at each other, some sneering, some waiting. Marcus shook his head, but she stayed put. I saw her hands trembling at her sides, but her feet didn’t move.

The first warrior stepped forward. A man I trusted, a wolf who had fought by my side more than once. He didn’t hesitate to shift, his body snapping into fur and claws. His growl rolled through the clearing, sharp enough to make younger wolves flinch. Elara didn’t run. She didn’t even take a step back. She just braced herself.

When the wolf lunged, I nearly moved. My muscles tensed, ready to pull him off her. She ducked, barely avoiding the strike, and the pack laughed. The sound burned through me like fire. She wasn’t a joke, but they didn’t see that yet.

The wolf came again, and this time she reached out. Her fingers brushed his fur. I felt it, the shift in the air, the pull of energy that was hers alone. His stride faltered for only a breath, but I saw it. She had touched him, and it had changed something.

He still knocked her down. She hit the dirt hard, dust clinging to her face, blood at her lip. My wolf roared inside me, demanding I step in, but before I could move, she pushed herself up. Slowly, painfully, but without help. She stood, chin lifted, and spoke loud enough for every wolf to hear.

“I’m not just someone who can’t shift,” she said. “My gift isn’t only giving. I can take, too.”

The whispers grew louder. Some backed away, fear in their eyes. Others narrowed their gaze, curious, testing. She didn’t flinch. She pointed at the next wolf, and before I could stop it, another warrior stepped forward.

One after another, she fought them. Not with claws, not with strength, but with her gift. Each time her hands touched them, something happened. Some grew faster, stronger. Others slowed, their steps heavy. She wasn’t lying, and the pack saw it.

Her body broke down with each fight. Her arms trembled, her breathing ragged, sweat dripping into the dirt. But she didn’t stop. She faced them all until her knees nearly gave out.

When the last wolf stepped back, she stood in the center of the ring, shaking but unbroken. “I’m not leaving,” she told them. “You can doubt me, you can fear me, but I’m part of this pack. I’ll prove it every day if I have to.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any growl. Some wolves nodded, grudging respect in their eyes. Others looked away, still torn, still doubting.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I crossed the ring as Marcus dismissed the warriors. Elara tried to walk out on her own, but her legs buckled. I caught her before she hit the dirt. She leaned against me, her face pale, blood at her mouth.

“I did it,” she whispered. Her lips barely moved, but her eyes burned with something fierce.

My throat closed. I wanted to tell her she had done more than enough, that she had shown them her strength in ways none of them could deny. But the words stuck. I just held her tighter, carrying her out of the ring.

Inside the packhouse, the whispers spread like fire. Some spoke of her gift like it was salvation, a power the pack had never seen before. Others muttered about danger, about one person holding too much control over wolves who should never be controlled.

By the time I laid her down in our room, the pack was already splitting into sides. I brushed the dirt from her face, watching her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. She had forced them to see her, forced them to see what she could do. But in proving herself, she had made herself a target again.

I sat beside her, listening to the sounds of wolves outside, voices rising with both admiration and suspicion. My hands curled into fists. She had stood in the dirt alone and refused to break, and still they questioned her.

I wasn’t sure which was worse, the enemies outside our borders, or the ones inside my walls.

And I wasn’t sure how long I could hold them together.