Chapter 44 Where Wolves Learn the Truth
Evie:
The Luna Wing training yard was always loud this time of day.
Young wolves sparred on padded mats, claws blunted with safety caps, their laughter echoing off the steel pillars that held the transparent dome overhead. The smart-glass ceiling filtered the sun and displayed shifting tactical holograms for the instructors.
I loved it here. It smelled like sweat, lavender disinfectant, and raw potential.
The new rota I’d created for the Wing, digital, streamlined, connected to every guardian unit in the sector, was posted on the main display wall. Mothers glanced up as they worked. Apprentices checked it on their wrist-comms.
Most seemed impressed. Some… less so.
A cluster of adolescent wolves, sixteen, maybe seventeen, stood off to the side, whispering as they eyed the roster. Three boys. One girl. Mischievous. Too much confidence, too little sense.
The girl squinted at my schedule. “So the Luna’s reorganizing strategy now?”
One boy snorted. “She probably doesn’t even know how to fight.”
Laughter followed. My wolf twitched its ear.
Harrow stood behind me, arms crossed, grin already forming because he knew, he knew what was coming. He’d trained with me years ago when Father insisted I learn both diplomacy and self-defense. Richard Hart believed a leader should be both blade and shield.
Harrow cleared his throat loudly.
“Oh, she knows how to fight,” he said. “Trust me.”
The boys rolled their eyes.
“She’s a Hart,” one scoffed. “They build cities, they don’t throw punches.”
I walked toward them calmly.
“Oh?” I said. “You think so?”
The tallest boy smirked. “No offense, Luna, but we train every day. You… don’t.”
Harrow laughed, an evil, delighted laugh he usually reserved for sparring days. And it reminded me of those lighter days, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Oh, pups. You have NO idea what you’ve just done.”
“Harrow,” I warned.
“What? They challenged you.” He shrugged. “Rules say you can defend your rank.”
A murmur spread across the training yard.
“She’s fighting?”
“Who challenged her?”
“Are they insane?”
The instructors paused mid-demonstration. A warrior captain crossed his arms, intrigued.
The boys, suddenly aware they might have misjudged the situation, exchanged uneasy glances, but pride made them stand straighter or stupidity, maybe both.
“Alright,” I said softly, stepping onto the mat. “One at a time.”
“No offense, Luna,” the tall boy muttered again, “but we don’t want to hurt yo...”
He didn’t finish before I was moving.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Just efficient.
My fist tapped his sternum before he even blinked. A clean, harmless strike, but enough to knock the air from his lungs.
He stumbled back. His friends stared. Mouths open.
I straightened calmly. “Next?”
The second boy lunged. I sidestepped, hooked his ankle, and flipped him onto the mat, not violently, but decisively.
Gasps rippled across the yard. Harrow grinned like a proud older brother.
“That’s my Luna.”
The third boy tried to circle me.
I let him. Watched. Measured. Then caught his wrist, twisted lightly, and guided him face-first toward the floor. He hit the mat with a soft thud and a shocked yelp. The girl stepped forward, hesitating.
“You… you trained before the accident?”
“My father believed everyone should train,” I said. “Especially those who lead.”
She nodded, then bowed slightly. A small sign of respect. The yard burst into whispers, this time less gossip, more awe.
“She’s fast.”
“She’s skilled.”
“She fights like a Hart.”
“No… she fights like a Knight.”
Parents watching from the benches exchanged impressed glances.
Some of the older wolves, seasoned guardians with scarred knuckles and tired eyes, watched with quiet approval, like they were seeing a long-forgotten truth restored. A few even straightened, their respect subtle but unmistakable. And for a heartbeat, the entire yard seemed to remember exactly who I was, and what the name Hart used to mean.
I stepped off the mat, brushing my hands together.
“Now,” I said lightly, “is anyone else confused about the rota?”
The yard erupted in laughter. The boys flushed red, but they bowed deeply.
“Apologies, Luna,” the tallest said, eyes lowered. “We… didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” I said gently. “Now you do.”
Mara clapped loudly. Jenna wiped suspicious moisture from her eyes. Isla... tiny, golden, bright.... ran up and threw herself against my legs.
“You were so cool!” she squeaked.
I scooped her up, and she wrapped her arms around my neck like a warm scarf. She smelled like strawberry soap and sunshine, and for a moment, her tiny arms felt like the safest place in the world. I pressed a kiss to her hair, grounding myself in that small, perfect warmth.
Harrow beamed with unholy pride.
Later, in the Gardens, Jenna and I sat on one of the stone benches in the Moonshade Garden. This part of the estate bloomed year-round with silver-petal flowers. Isla ran in circles chasing butterflies the gardeners had programmed into the holo-field.
The sun glinted off the tall crystal tower beyond the wall. It should have been peaceful.
It was peaceful. The air here always felt different, lighter somehow, as if the garden itself breathed with us. The holo-butterflies shimmered through Isla’s curls, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe this could be our new normal. Quiet. Simple. Almost happy.
Until the shadow moved.
At first, I thought it was a bird.
Or a tech glitch in the holo-field.
But no... There. Near the old glass arch at the far end of the garden.
A figure: Still. Watching. A chill ran down my spine..
“Harrow?” I whispered.
His posture changed instantly. From relaxed to razor-edged.
“Where?” he murmured.
I nodded toward the arch. He didn’t waste a second. He strode across the garden, fast, silent, predatory. I held Isla tighter.
Jenna stood slowly. “Evie… what is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said softly. “But he was there yesterday, too.”
The memory scraped through me like broken glass. That same silhouette: unmoving, too still to be a coincidence, hovered at the edge of my vision last night. I hadn’t slept since, every instinct pacing inside my ribcage, restless and warning.
Jenna’s hand flew to her mouth. Harrow reached the arch. Checked behind it. Checked the path. Checked the side alley.
But no one was there.
He returned with a frown. “There’s no one here.”
My wolf coiled nervously. “Maybe I imagined it,” I murmured.
Harrow shook his head. “You don’t imagine things like that.”
He scanned the garden again, every muscle tense. The peace of earlier slid away. A quiet dread crawled up my spine.
Something was watching.
Something was waiting.
And the soft, fragile happiness in my chest… felt suddenly more breakable than ever.
The storm was coming. And I could feel it.