Loving Young

Chapter VII

The morning light filtered through the trees, waking me from a restless sleep. My mind was still heavy with thoughts of last night—of Darius and the fleeting moment between us. Nyx had quieted after hours of restless pacing, but the weight of the bond remained, an ever-present reminder of what I couldn't fully grasp yet.

I inhaled deeply, trying to focus on the task ahead. Today wasn't about emotions or distractions. Today was about the pack, about training, about duty. Pack. Training. Duty. The words chanted in my head, a deliberate effort to drown out the other, quieter rhythm that pulsed relentlessly in the background: Darius. Darius. Darius.

Stepping outside, the earthy scent of wet bark and crushed leaves greeted me as I made my way to the training grounds. The rhythmic thud of paws against the ground, punctuated by occasional grunts from sparring wolves, filled the air. The familiar sounds anchored me, sharpening my focus. This was my space, my sanctuary where I could regain control amidst the chaos inside my head. My back straightened, my shoulders set, and a small smile tugged at my lips as I embraced the buzz of it all.

But as I approached, something felt off.

The air around the training grounds buzzed with an energy I hadn't felt before. It wasn't the usual camaraderie of warriors honing their skills; there was a tension, palpable and thick. Wolves glanced at me as I walked, their conversations fading into murmurs. Eyes lingered on me longer than usual, trailing after me as I passed.

The frown on my face deepened until I saw him—Toran.

He stood at the center of the training grounds, exuding a quiet authority that seemed to bend the very air around him. His posture was rigid, his gaze focused with a sharp intensity that demanded attention. Older, seasoned by countless battles, Toran was a warrior through and through. His very presence carried an unspoken threat, like a storm waiting to unleash its fury.

We hadn't interacted much since my arrival, aside from the cold glares exchanged during council meetings. But standing there now, I could see why he commanded respect, even if begrudgingly. His eyes locked onto mine, and a chill settled in my gut.

"You're late," he remarked, his tone as hard as the earth beneath our feet, disdain curling at the edges of his voice.

I felt the urge to snap back but held steady. "I'm here now."

Around us, the pack's attention shifted like a breeze through leaves, their sparring forgotten. Wolves paused, their ears perked, their focus now entirely on the brewing tension between us. Toran took a step forward, his muscles coiling beneath his skin, a subtle reminder of the power he wielded.

"You're here to train, not make excuses," he growled.

My heart raced, but I forced my body to remain calm. He was pushing me, testing my resolve. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking. "Then let's train."

His lips twisted into something resembling a smile, though it held no warmth. It was more of a challenge. "Good. Let's see if the Beta from another pack is as good as they say."

There was no warning—

Toran lunged with the ferocity of a predator, his speed catching me off guard. I barely dodged his first strike, the wind of his fist whipping past my ribs. This wasn't a sparring session. This was a fight. Every movement of his was sharp and calculated, each strike designed to dominate. He was testing my weaknesses, probing for the cracks.

I danced around his attacks, my instincts kicking in. But he was relentless. Each hit forced me to give ground, his sheer power overwhelming. Sweat began to bead on my skin as I blocked and countered, each moment more grueling than the last.