Broken heart of a warrior

Chapter 1

There was a soft knock on my door. I raised my head and put my book on the side table as I said, "Come in."

As the door opened, I knew something was off. The look on Blade's face told me everything before he even spoke. I gasped, feeling a knot in my stomach. The man who had been my shoulder, my guidance, my friend for years—he rarely let his expression slip. But now, his dark oceanic eyes were clouded, lips pressed thin, every muscle tense. Something huge was about to happen.

I jumped to my feet and met him by the door. His fists were clenched at his sides, his stance foreboding. His aura alone made the air feel heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Whatever he carried inside, he wasn't sharing it with me—not yet.

"What is wrong?" I asked cautiously, watching every small movement for a hint.

He passed me silently, heading to the edge of my bed and sitting. He broke eye contact, shutting me out completely. "Alina," he murmured quietly, "you have been summoned. The Master wants to speak with you."

Without another word, I grabbed my sweatshirt and went for the door. Before I stepped into the corridor, I glanced back. Blade caught my eye as always, the familiar words spoken in a low, steady tone: "I'll be waiting for you."

The halls of the Werewhick Academy were cold, sterile, and endless—a labyrinth of stone and steel, with faint echoes that seemed to whisper secrets of the past. But the real world outside was far harsher. The Academy was buried deep in Siberia, far from civilization, surrounded by jagged cliffs, endless pine forests, and snow-covered plains that stretched to the horizon. In winter, the wind cut through even the thickest layers of clothing, carrying a bite so sharp it felt like knives against exposed skin. Avalanches were a constant threat in the mountains, and the forests hid predators—both human and otherwise.

I quickened my pace down the halls, memories flooding in. I remembered the first days I set foot here, five grueling years ago, at just sixteen, naïve and clueless. I had thought I was being sent to a boarding school for a few years, believing it was in everyone's best interest. How quickly that illusion shattered.

The Academy had been deliberately hidden in the middle of nowhere, designed for warriors like us to train without fear of discovery. And yet, I had tried to escape. Many times. Each attempt began with me scaling the frozen cliffs or slipping through the dense pine forests, thinking I could reach civilization before they found me. I remember the bitter cold biting my fingers and toes, the snow reaching my waist, the wind howling like a pack of wolves. Hunger clawed at my stomach, frostbite turned my skin numb, and every step felt like I was dragging my body through cement. Yet somehow, they always found me—every single time.

The punishments were brutal, calculated to instill obedience. Often, I hovered on the knife-edge between life and death, my body trembling with exhaustion and cold, but I endured. Slowly, I stopped dreaming of freedom. The child's hope that my family would come, that someone would rescue me, died under the icy Siberian sky. I stopped caring. I survived, learned, adapted. My heart, like the frozen tundra surrounding the Academy, became impenetrable.

My body was honed into a weapon, trained to seduce, to kill, to protect, to survive. Emotions were weaknesses I could no longer afford. Love was irrelevant; warmth was a memory. Pain and remorse became tools to shape me, not distractions. I became a warrior, perfected in body and mind, ready for any order, any mission.

Slowing my pace, I reached the heavy door to my Master's office. Just as my hand touched the handle, his voice echoed in my mind: "Come in, Alina. We were expecting you."

I opened the door quietly, closing it behind me, and knelt in a sign of submission before my Master. Only he commanded such respect, the only person whose orders overrode all else. My team, my family, the Academy—none mattered more than his word.

"You may arise and please sit." He pointed to a chair, and as I did, I caught the scent of a second person in the room. Instantly, I was alert. Anyone else in the Academy was a target—or a threat. Fear radiated off this intruder, but I paid him no mind.

"You have summoned me, Master?" I asked as I took the seat. He looked young—around twenty-five—but his silver hair, flowing to the middle of his back, and the aura of lethal power left no doubt he was among the deadliest wolves in the world. Standing 6'6" with a body that combined a wrestler's strength and a sprinter's agility, Master was more than a mentor—he was survival personified.

His words were brief, but heavy: " You'll have the most important mission yet. You will leave tomorrow, and I will be accompanying you. Pack your belongings and be prepared."

My hand froze on the door handle when he said, "We are going to the court." A jolt of panic hit my chest, like a frozen blade sliding through my ribs. Was it really possible? Home, after all this time? Master's sharp gaze caught my hesitation. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Master. Not at all," I said, regaining composure, though my mind was a storm of emotions—fear, longing, doubt, memories I had tried to bury.

By the time I reached my room, the pain hit me full force. Memories of him—my mate, my loss—assaulted me like the Siberian wind in a blizzard. I wanted to crumble, to collapse under the weight of all I had denied myself for survival. Blade's arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding. I didn't want comfort, but I needed it.

His voice was soft yet commanding, grounding me: "Alina, I know it's hard. But I'll always be here. You are not alone."

As my hand traced the scar from his right eye down his cheek, Blade closed the distance, kissing me with fierce passion. The ache in my heart dulled, replaced by heat and intensity—a reminder that even in the coldest, harshest environments, some warmth could still survive