CHAPTER 62: START MOVING

Kaya

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

I ask Samantha while watching her tighten the laces on her sneakers. Today, instead of our usual one-on-one training session, she suggested I finally join the others for the group warm-up and run. It’s been over a month since I arrived, and while I’ve made noticeable progress in physical endurance, the idea of stepping into a crowd still presses heavily on my chest.

"Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy to continue our sessions," she says, brushing her braid over her shoulder with a smile. "But Oliver and I both think your progress has hit a bit of a plateau. A little healthy pressure from competition might help push you further."

She blinks at me cheerfully, but all I feel is a tightening in my gut.

Competition, huh? I suppose the only real way to measure growth is to compare yourself to others.

As we step onto the training grounds, I immediately feel the weight of dozens of gazes.

Some look away after a single long, probing stare. Others keep their eyes on me, whispering behind hands, their expressions laced with curiosity or disdain—as if I’m some rare creature on display in a glass box.

I tell myself not to let it get under my skin. I’ve been here long enough. If my presence still bothers them, that’s on them—not me.

Wow. That’s a bold thought, Kaya. I click my tongue, almost amused at the strange, defiant shift in my mood.

"Ugh, today is the worst day for training!" Samantha’s grumbling slices through my thoughts, snapping my attention back to her. "It rained all night, and now we have to train in mud."

She shoots me a look of pure disgust, and I can only shrug. For someone who spends days patrolling in the wilderness, sleeping in caves and changing clothes in front of half the pack, Samantha is surprisingly squeamish about a little dirt.

"Alright, lazy asses," Aksel calls out, stepping into the center of the training grounds and immediately commanding everyone’s attention. "We’re starting with a calisthenics routine for warm-up. After that—gym. No running today. The woods are a swamp."

"We could just shift and let our wolves run," Gloria suggests, sauntering forward and casting a pointed glance in my direction. "A little mud never stopped us before."

"Gamma Turner." The cold cut of Magnus’s voice slices through the air like a blade. Heads turn instantly.

He strides across the training field like he owns every inch of it—his broad shoulders squared, his curly black hair gathered in a low, loose bun. He’s wearing a fitted black training shirt and jogger pants, the effortless kind of look that somehow makes him appear even more lethal—and unfairly attractive.

It’s almost unfair how easy it is for him to command attention without even trying.

"Yes, Alpha," Gloria mutters, her gaze dropping to the ground, her voice trembling slightly.

"You’ve been crossing lines far too often lately," Magnus growls, his voice low but laced with quiet authority that thrums like thunder beneath the surface.

Just hearing that tone sends a chill through me—and a tightening in my stomach. Goddess, I wouldn’t want to be in Gloria’s shoes right now.

"Fine. Since you like shifting so much," Magnus growls, narrowing his eyes at Gloria, his features darkening as his predatory nature slips to the surface, "then do it. Twenty laps around the forest in wolf form. Don’t even think about coming back until you’re done."

"But, Alpha, I—"

"One more word," he cuts her off coldly, "and I’ll make it thirty."

That shuts her up. Gloria bites down on her lower lip, her defiance cracking just slightly before she turns on her heel and stalks off. Without another word, she drops her smartwatch onto the bench beside her friends.

Samantha chuckles and nudges me under the ribs, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Finally. She’s been getting on my nerves lately too."

I can’t help but grin back at her, but the moment my eyes flick to Gloria, she’s staring right at me. Her scowl deepens, and her upper lip curls just enough to bare her fangs in warning.

I snap my gaze away immediately, pretending to be mesmerized by a fascinating detail on Aksel’s overly defined chest.

I can handle glares from humans, but I still have no idea what to do when a wolf looks at me like prey.

"Wow. That was kind of harsh, Alpha Reiner."

The voice is smooth, confident—and unfamiliar. My body stiffens instinctively at the sound.

A ripple of excitement surges through the male half of the training ground, while the women fall noticeably silent, their eyes fixed on the newcomer with thinly veiled distaste.

"Everyone’s attention, please," Magnus’s voice cuts through the low hum of conversation, effortlessly commanding the entire training ground. "You all know Cecilia Mays, and judging by your stunned expressions, I’m sure you’ve already figured out why she’s here."

Samantha casts me a quick sideways glance, likely gauging my reaction. I force my face into a neutral mask, willing myself to show nothing.

Magnus continues, his tone calm but firm. "From this point forward, treat her the same way you treat me. During her stay, Cecilia will be joining us for training."

"Oh, Goddess, what a pompous introduction!" Cecilia laughs airily, giving Magnus a playful slap on the shoulder. "I’m happy to see you all again!"

Everything about her makes me flinch—her voice, her confidence, her easy charm. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or raw insecurity clawing at me, but just looking at her sends a wave of cold self-doubt washing over me.

She’s his Luna candidate. An alpha wolf. I keep repeating it in my head like some kind of bitter mantra as I shift my gaze back to Magnus—only to find his eyes already on me.

Those intense amber eyes lock onto mine with disarming focus, as if he had been searching for me in the crowd all along. My breath hitches, but I look away instantly, clenching my fists inside the sleeves of my training hoodie.

"Start moving," his voice rumbles again—deep, resonant, and somehow so close it feels like it’s inside my head.

I don’t look up. I don’t dare. I just do what he told me to do—I move.