TWENTY SEVEN

Sky's POV

The warmth of the early morning sun kissed my bare back, seeping into my muscles and easing the stiffness that had settled overnight. My body felt heavy, my mind still tangled in sleep, but the comfort was fleeting. I cracked one eye open, blinking against the golden light that flooded my room.

And then I saw it.

The tray. The fucking tray.

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach, my forehead pressing into the pillow as frustration curled in my chest.

I ate it.

All of it.

I had barely eaten at dinner, just stolen bites here and there, but my wolf had been starving. Tired, restless, pissed off. And when I had come back from my run, the smell of food had been too much to ignore.

I hated myself for it.

Hated that Zeke knew.

Hated that he had been right—that I did need it.

"It's not a weakness to accept food from your mate, you know." Evie stirred in my head, stretching lazily.

"He's not my mate." I scowled, but deep down, something inside me twisted.

Because even as I denied it, even as I spat the words like they meant nothing, I couldn't stop the way my body warmed at the thought. The idea of being his, of being claimed, of knowing that someone as strong as

Zeke wanted me, would fight for me, made my stomach flip in a way I didn't want to acknowledge.

"Liar. You love the thought of it. You love knowing that he still wants you." Evie hummed knowingly.

"I don't love anything about this."

"Then why is your heart racing?"

"Because I'm angry, Evie," I shot back.

"No, you're terrified," she corrected smugly. "Because for the first time in years, someone is making you feel something, and you can't control it." I shot up, throwing the covers back aggressively, ignoring Evie and the way my muscles protested as I stomped to the bathroom.

The shower was hot, scalding against my skin, but I didn't care. I scrubbed hard, trying to erase the lingering scent of sleep and frustration and him. If I was going to get out of here, I needed to be strong. By the time I stepped out, steam rolling off my skin, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I hesitated.

I rarely looked at myself anymore.

My fingers raked through my damp hair, watching as the strands shifted under the light. The pink was fading, the soft blonde beneath creeping through like it was reclaiming me.

My skin—once golden from days spent under the sun—looked paler, like the vibrancy had been drained out of me over the years. I ran a hand over my stomach, my ribs more prominent than I remembered, the muscle definition I once had now faded.

I had lost weight. Lost strength. I clenched my jaw. That had to change. I needed to train. I yanked open my wardrobe, my fingers automatically reaching for the clothes I used to train in—my old favorites.

The shorts were tiny.

Not just short, but practically non-existent, clinging to my hips in a way that was utterly inappropriate. Paired with a black sports bra that left my stomach bare, I looked like I belonged in my rebellious teenage years—not on the training grounds of an Alpha's pack.

Perfect.

"They'll all be distracted." Evie hummed in approval.

"Not the point," I muttered. But I didn't change. Instead, I grabbed a thin jacket, throwing it over my shoulders before making my way downstairs. I walked through the halls like I owned the place, not caring that my shorts left nothing to the imagination, not caring that a few lingering pack members openly gawked.

Let them look.

Let them fucking talk.

The second I stepped onto the packed dirt of the training grounds, I knew I'd made a mistake. There were no female warriors. No women at all. Just men.

And they weren't just any men.

They were brutal. Strong, agile, honed from years of training and violence.

I swallowed the initial wave of unease, forcing myself to straighten my spine. I don't back down. I don't fucking run.

I shrugged out of my jacket, letting it drop to the bench as I stretched my arms over my head, exposing the bare skin of my stomach and my toned legs—knowing exactly what kind of reaction it would earn.

The side glances.

The smirks.

The knowing grins.

And then there was Zeke.

His mismatched eyes locked onto me the second I stepped onto the dirt, his expression going dark.

Watching.

Assessing.

Something primal flickered in his gaze—anger, possessiveness, lust. And fuck if I didn't love that I was getting under his skin. I paired off against Kade, a stocky but agile wolf who looked far too excited to fight me.

The first few rounds were humiliating. I was fast, but not fast enough. Strong, but not strong enough. Kade barely broke a sweat as he knocked me down again and again, my body hitting the dirt with bruising force.

Each time, I rolled to my feet, panting, my pride screaming inside me. And each time, I felt Zeke watching. I didn't look at him, but I knew. Knew he was holding himself back, his entire body thrumming with the instinct to step in.

Good.

Let him suffer.

But then Kade got cocky.

He moved faster, hit harder.

And then, before I could block it, his fist slammed into my stomach, sending me sprawling onto my hands and knees, coughing as the air was knocked from my lungs.

It wasn't just a sparring hit. It was punishment. And Zeke snapped.

"She's out of practice," Zeke growled, his voice sharp, deadly as he strode forward, his presence like a goddamn storm rolling in. "Take it down a notch." The entire training ground went silent.

My head whipped up, fury burning in my chest as I forced myself to my feet. I should have felt grateful. I should have felt relief. Instead, all I felt was embarrassed.

He had humiliated me.

Again.

Like I was weak. Like I couldn't fight my own battles.

"I don't need you to save me." I seethed as Zeke clenched his jaw, his fists tight, his entire stance radiating barely controlled rage.

"Sky—"

But before he could argue, a voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

"What do we have here?" My blood ran cold. I turned, and there he was.

Neo.

He strolled onto the training grounds, his clothes impeccable despite the dirt and sweat hanging thick in the air. His lips curled, his eyes taking me in like he was memorizing my weaknesses, my failures.

My stomach tightened.

This was about to go from bad to worse.