SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN
“Do either of you have a variation on short you’d like to throw in for good measure?” I ask, glancing pointedly at Ethan and Milo with a dry smile.

They both chuckle, clearly amused at the ongoing roast, and I take the opportunity to try slipping out from the twin-sized wall I’m currently wedged between.

But the second I shift to the side, they mirror me—each adjusting just enough to keep me trapped. Great. Twin reflexes. Real helpful.

With a sigh of defeat, I stop moving and glance at Ethan again.

“Let me get back to you, Bite Size,” he says with mock seriousness. “I want to come up with something clever.”

I roll my eyes dramatically as Selene bursts into laughter beside me.

“And you?” I ask, raising a brow at Milo, who’s been suspiciously quiet.

“Right now, Shorty,” he says with a grin, “all I get to call you is the take-down champ. Dad’s never gonna let us forget that one.”

A ripple of laughter runs through the group at the memory of this morning’s training session. Milo reaches between Max and Jade to wrap an arm around my neck in a loose, affectionate headlock, pulling me close in a way that surprises me.

He’s never done that before. Physical affection from my brother is rare—basically non-existent. I don’t know if it’s the beer dulling his ever-tense senses (even though alcohol doesn’t affect werewolves all that much), or if something about tonight has him acting different. He hasn’t had much to drink, but he did stop the guys from handing me any, more than once. Not that I cared either way, but it was... noticeable.

I can’t tell if he’s acting like this because he’s tipsy, or if he’s low-key uncomfortable with how close the twins are to me. He’s never shown signs of being the protective older brother before, but then again—I’ve never given him a reason to be. We don’t usually hang out. Truth is, I don’t hang out with anyone.

This night, this entire experience—it’s all new for me.

No one else seems to pick up on the shift in Milo’s behavior. The others start chatting about this morning’s training while we all slowly make our way toward the firepit, forming a loose, easy circle. Some sit on logs, others on the ground, and everyone naturally falls into place.

Milo doesn’t take his arm off me until I sit down, propped against a log, and even then he lingers like he's making a silent point.

Selene drops beside me, still glowing from the beer and the warmth of the fire. Leo sits on the log behind her, placing her comfortably between his knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Milo takes the spot on my other side, a solid presence I’m not used to. Max, Jade, and Ethan settle onto the angled log opposite ours, giving us a perfect view of their amused expressions.

“Don’t remind me,” Selene groans, shaking her head. “I was on the receiving end of that beatdown.”

For a split second, worry stirs in my chest. I hadn’t meant to show her up in training. My brain rushes through all the ways she could be hiding irritation behind that laugh—but when I glance at her, she doesn’t look mad. She looks... proud. Maybe even impressed.

Everyone chuckles again, and I let myself smile, breathing out a soft sigh of relief as I join in.

It’s strange. That training session feels like a distant memory, even though it was just this morning. A lifetime’s worth of change has unfolded in the hours since. I hadn’t even noticed how many more people had arrived around us until we moved closer to the fire. Leo had been right—people just showed up when they felt like it and stayed until they didn’t.

The fire’s warmth is a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. It’s colder tonight than I’d expected. I’m not freezing, but the heat licking at my face and arms feels grounding, safe.

“The Alpha told us that every warrior tried to match her takedown time after training today,” Selene announces casually to the group, sipping her beer like she’s narrating a campfire story. “No one could do it.”

She pauses dramatically.

“Not even your dads,” she adds with a wicked smirk, clearly enjoying the extra sting in that afterthought.

“Really? Damn,” Leo says, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I don’t feel so bad now if none of our dads could beat it either.”

Ethan’s deep voice cuts through next. “How many training sessions do you actually go to?”

He’s watching me, head tilted slightly, eyes sharp like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “I know you’re at all the mandatory ones for high school, and you train with Luna Sage, but... what else?”

His question is sincere, not mocking. He sounds... interested. Curious.

I stare at the fire for a beat before answering. “All of them.”

It comes out softer than I intended, like I’m unsure I should admit it. Until today, no one noticed. Until today, I was just the quiet girl in the background, showing up, training, keeping her head down.

Ethan blinks. “All of them? Like... all of them?”

His disbelief makes me shrug. “Yeah. I do the mandatory morning sessions, the advanced warrior and ranked-member training with Luna Sage three times a week, and I help Delta Nolan run the basics. Patrol training. Pups' beginner class.”

I say it like it’s not a big deal. Because to me, it isn’t. It’s my routine, my sanctuary.

Ethan stares, processing. “That’s... a lot.”

I shrug again. “It’s what I like. Basics are underrated. Everyone’s always chasing flash and power, but in a real fight, when adrenaline hits and everything goes sideways, it’s muscle memory that saves you. Not tricks.”

I hesitate, then add, “I like working with the pups the most. I like knowing they’re learning early how to deal with people like Raven.”

That part slips out before I can stop it.

It makes Selene lean in slightly, her smile fading into something softer. But I don’t want sympathy. I want strength. That’s what training gives me.

Training is the one place I don’t have to explain myself. It’s where effort matters more than popularity. It’s where I can breathe.

“Wow,” Max says after a moment, his expression unreadable. “I guess we’ve seriously underestimated you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jade adds with a grin. “I always knew there was something dangerous under all that sarcasm.”

Selene clinks her beer bottle against mine with a knowing smile, and suddenly—I feel seen. Not just as Milo’s sister. Not just as the quiet girl in combat boots.

But as me.