Chapter 92

Chapter 92
Roland POV

“Again.”

The boy groaned. “I just did it.”

“And you missed.”

“I almost hit it.”

“Almost doesn’t count.”

He dragged a hand down his face but reset his stance anyway, lifting the bow with shaky arms.

“Feet,” I said.

“They’re fine.”

“They’re not.”

He adjusted them without arguing this time.

“Better,” I muttered. “Now breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“Not like that.”

He sighed loudly. “How do you want me to breathe?”

“Slow.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“It is if you actually do it.”

He rolled his eyes but inhaled properly this time, shoulders settling just a little.

“Now loose.”

The arrow flew.

It hit the edge of the target, barely holding.

The boy lit up. “I hit it!”

“You grazed it.”

“I still hit it.”

I paused, then gave a small nod. “You did.”

He grinned like I’d handed him something valuable.

“Again,” I said.

His smile dropped. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Very much.”

A few of the others snickered behind him.

“Don’t get comfortable,” I added. “Next one should be better.”

He groaned again but reset.

I stepped back, letting him work.

Around us, the clearing carried on — quieter than before, but alive. Hammers, voices, the occasional laugh. Not chaos. Not silence either.

Balanced.

That mattered.

“Your arm’s still shaking.”

I didn’t turn. “It’s healing.”

Luke stepped up beside me anyway, crossing his arms as he watched the line of younger wolves struggle through the same basic drill.

“You should rest more,” he said.

“You sound like Rhett.”

“Maybe Rhett is right.”

“He usually is.”

“Then why aren’t you listening?”

I glanced at him briefly. “Because I don’t want to forget how to do this.”

Luke frowned slightly. “You’re not going to forget how to teach.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He didn’t push. Just waited.

I nodded toward the group. “They need structure. Not just fighting. Not just reacting. If I stop now, they go back to guessing.”

“They’ve survived worse.”

“Surviving isn’t the same as being ready.”

Luke went quiet at that.

Another arrow flew. Missed entirely.

“I hate this!” the boy snapped, lowering the bow.

“Good,” I said.

He stared at me. “Why is that a good thing?”

“Because it means you care enough to be frustrated.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It will.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, then just sighed and reset again.

Luke huffed quietly. “You’re brutal.”

“I’m honest.”

“Same thing sometimes.”

“Not always.”

He shifted his weight slightly. “You’ve changed.”

I raised a brow. “In what way?”

“You used to be quieter.”

“I’m still quiet.”

“You are,” he said. “But not like before.”

I considered that.

“Before, you stayed out of things,” he continued. “Now you’re in the middle of it.”

“That’s because someone has to be.”

“You didn’t think that before?”

“I did,” I said. “I just didn’t think it had to be me.”

Luke looked at me properly then.

“What changed?”

I watched the boy loose another arrow.

Closer.

Still off.

“Everything,” I said simply.

He didn’t argue with that.

For a while, we just stood there, watching.

“Again,” I called.

The boy groaned louder this time.

“You’re going to keep saying that, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Until you stop asking.”

A few of the others laughed.

He muttered something under his breath and drew the bow again.

Luke shook his head slightly. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“They’re learning.”

“They’re suffering.”

“Same thing.”

“That’s exactly what Mara said yesterday.”

“She’s not wrong.”

He snorted.

Another arrow flew.

This one hit properly.

Not perfect.

But solid.

The boy froze.

“…did you see that?”

“I saw it,” I said.

He turned, eyes wide. “I actually hit it.”

“You did.”

He broke into a grin. “I hit it!”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” I added. “Do it again.”

His smile dropped instantly. “You’re evil.”

“Again.”

He laughed despite himself and reset.

Luke watched him for a second, then looked back at me.

“They trust you,” he said.

“They shouldn’t.”

“They should,” he corrected. “You don’t lie to them.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is to them.”

I leaned slightly on my good leg, adjusting my stance.

“They don’t need someone to make them feel better,” I said. “They need someone to make them better.”

Luke was quiet for a moment.

Then—

“That’s leadership.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“It is.”

“No,” I repeated. “That’s responsibility.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Leadership is loud,” I said. “People notice it. Follow it. Talk about it.”

“And responsibility?”

“Responsibility doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.”

He studied me.

“Strength isn’t noise,” I added. “It’s control.”

Luke exhaled slowly. “You’ve been thinking about that a lot.”

“I’ve been living it.”

He nodded once.

“I think Lucien would agree with you,” he said.

I glanced at him. “Lucien doesn’t like being told what strength is.”

Luke smirked slightly. “He doesn’t like being told anything.”

“That too.”

We both watched as the boy finally hit the target again.

Cleaner this time.

More confident.

“There,” I said. “Now you’re getting it.”

He lowered the bow, breathing harder but smiling.

“That felt different,” he admitted.

“It should.”

“Why?”

“Because you stopped fighting yourself.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You were forcing it before,” I said. “Now you’re letting it happen.”

He frowned slightly. “That sounds complicated.”

“It’s not.”

“It sounds complicated.”

I almost smiled.

“Keep going,” I told him.

He nodded and reset again, this time without complaining.

Luke nudged my shoulder lightly. “You’re good at this.”

“I know.”

He blinked. “That was fast.”

“I don’t doubt things I’ve already proven.”

He laughed. “I should’ve expected that.”

“Probably.”

We stood there a little longer, watching the group fall into rhythm.

Less chaos.

More control.

Better.

Luke finally pushed off from where he was standing. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t get into trouble.”

“No promises.”

“Of course not.”

He walked off, shaking his head.

I turned back to the line.

“Again,” I called.

A chorus of groans followed.

I let it sit for a second.

Then—

“Good,” I added.

They laughed this time.

And when the next arrows flew—

They were better.

Not perfect.

But controlled.

I exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension I’d been holding slip out without thinking about it.

And for a moment—

I smiled.

Not forced.

Not brief.

Just… there.