By the time I arrived at the old training grounds—abandoned since the last renovations—the rain had begun to fall in thin, icy sheets.
Cassius stood alone in the center of the clearing, his coat discarded, his black shirt clinging to the hard lines of his body, his sword lying untouched on the ground beside him.
Waiting.
Silent.
Ready.
I walked forward without hesitation, boots crunching on the wet gravel.
Neither of us spoke.
There was no need.
I shrugged off my jacket, letting the cold soak into my skin.
Cassius smiled then—a slow, dangerous thing.
The storm howled around us.
And we shifted.
Bones snapped and realigned.
Claws burst from fingertips.
Fur ripped across flesh like wildfire.
I hit the ground in my wolf form, muscles rippling under slick, dark fur, claws digging into the muddy earth.
Cassius stood opposite me, a massive black wolf — larger than any I had ever fought — his coat gleaming like obsidian, his eyes burning through the rain.
He moved first.
A blur of speed.
I dodged under his first strike, his claws slicing the air where my head had been a second before.
I countered, launching upward, raking my claws across his flank.
He twisted with a growl.
We clashed again.
Snarling. Snapping. Fangs bared. Cassius lunged for my throat.
I spun low, slamming my shoulder into his ribs, sending him skidding through the slick mud.
He recovered instantly, shaking off the impact with a snarl, and circled me, muscles tense, paws sinking deep into the wet ground.
I mirrored him, keeping low, letting instinct take over.
When he leapt again, claws flashing, I met him midair.
Our bodies collided with a crack like thunder, rolling across the field in a tangle of fur and teeth.
He pinned me for a breath—his massive paw against my chest—but I twisted savagely, sinking my fangs into his shoulder.
We broke apart, panting, blood and rain running in rivulets down our sides.
We shifted back almost simultaneously, the change ripping through our bodies like wildfire, steam rising from our soaked, battered skin.
Cassius’s mouth curled into a sharp, feral grin.
I bared my teeth at him, still panting, muscles aching.
"You fight dirty," I rasped.
Cassius chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against me. "So do you, storm girl."
He released me with a sharp, almost respectful jerk, stepping back and offering his hand.
I slapped it away and pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp ache blooming in my shoulder.
Cassius just smiled wider.
"You’re exactly what the King needs," he said. "And exactly what he wants."
I wiped the blood from my mouth and smiled coldly.
"I’m very sure that there are others more qualified than me to serve the king."
Cassius tilted his head slightly, studying me.
"You’re wasted here," he said softly, almost like an accusation. "Silvermoon cages you with loyalty. They use your strength. They don’t celebrate it."
I said nothing.
Because part of me knew it was true.
Silvermoon respected me—but I would never rise higher than Beta here.
Not because I wasn’t strong enough.
But because I wasn’t born into it.
Because in their hearts, I would always be the rogue who clawed her way out of the dirt.
Cassius stepped closer, his voice dropping lower.
"Come to the Obsidian Throne. Serve only the king. Stand beside him. Command armies."
He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of him against my wet skin.
"Be feared. Be free."
I met his gaze without blinking.
And for the first time in a long, long time...
I hesitated.
Not because I doubted myself.
But because I wasn’t sure what I wanted more anymore:
Peace.
Or power.
He left after saying that without waiting for my response....