7

Three Years Later

I stood before two towering, muscle-bound men and allowed a smirk to curve my lips. A crowd had gathered around us, forming a wide ring in the middle of the training grounds. The earth beneath my boots had dried to a fine layer of loose sand from the weeklong drought - an advantage I intended to use.

The men eyed me with disdain, their gazes sweeping up and down the length of my body. "You sure about this, princess?" Paolo, the bald one, chuckled as he ran a hand over his head, rolling his broad shoulders back in a display of confidence.

"Just scream if it gets too much," Marco, the other, taunted with a grin, his voice dripping with arrogance. The crowd let out a few faint chuckles, but most didn't share his amusement. Marco seemed oblivious, though, his eyes lingering on my fitted leather jacket and custom-made bustier. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. "I'll take care of that tight little outfit when we're done, sweetheart."

I bit back an eye roll. I hoped, for their sake, they were more than just slabs of muscle. I wasn't here to waste time. I glanced at Alessandro, who gave a quick nod to start the match.

Finally.

I gave them a few seconds to make their move, but they only adjusted their stances, waiting for me to come at them. Clearly, they wanted to make this difficult. Fine. I lunged forward, launching a kick at one and driving a punch into the gut of the other.

"B*tch!" Marco spat as my foot collided with his face.

I blew him a playful kiss before shifting my attention back to Paolo, who was already recovering and charging at me with a roar. His heavy steps pounded the earth as he closed the distance, but I waited until the last second to drop low and sweep my leg under him, knocking him flat on his back. Without missing a beat, I turned just as Marco came at me, fist raised.

Too slow.

I dodged easily, giving him one final chance to do something worthwhile. When he failed, Paolo seized the opportunity and slammed me to the ground. Sand exploded around me as I hit the dirt.

"Well, well," I muttered. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Paolo staggered to his feet, his chest heaving with effort. Marco joined in, attempting to pin me while I was still down. Pathetic. I'd had enough. Grabbing a handful of sand, I flung it into Marco's eyes and sprang to my feet, delivering a rapid series of strikes to Paolo's jaw, chest, and abdomen. He crumpled to the ground.

Marco had barely wiped his eyes clear before my fist connected with his face, knocking him out cold.

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter as I walked over to Alessandro, shaking my head. "That's it? That's the best we've got?" I gestured toward the two unconscious men.

Alessandro shrugged, arms wide. "We're losing soldiers faster than we can train them."

My jaw tightened as I looked back at the men I had just floored. "They'll be slaughtered out there."

Alessandro sighed, his voice heavy. "They'll either die fighting, or they'll die as cowards, refusing to protect what's left of their homes. They've made their choice."

The unfairness of it all twisted in my chest, but war had never been fair. We were constantly outnumbered, outgunned, yet we never stopped fighting. The dwindling numbers weren't even our biggest problem.

These three years had been brutal, but not once had I regretted joining the resistance. Alessandro had offered me something no one else had - the power to choose my own path. It hadn't been easy, but I had set my sights on a future worth fighting for. I saw the world for what it truly was, and I knew it had to change. I wanted to be part of that change.

As I looked at the people walking past, nodding and smiling with respect, a small smile crept onto my own lips. We had fought side by side - for freedom, for the right to live as we wanted.

The resistance stood against the army of the tyrant Alpha Matteo - a ruthless force of bloodthirsty wolves. While our ranks consisted of wolfless and shrouds wolves, we fought with every bit of strength we had. Trained in combat, we used our mortal bodies in ways most shifters couldn't. But arrows and blades laced with wolfsbane were no longer enough.

Alessandro had tried to recruit from the shifter packs, but they clung to the false hope of peace, blind to the fact that Matteo's army loomed at their borders. Fools. Desperation had driven Alessandro to approach the rogues, but the weak ones refused, and the stronger ones joined Matteo's ranks.

They couldn't stomach the idea of following an ex-Alpha who had lost his wolf. I often wondered if that was just an excuse to cover their cowardice. They chose to ignore the horror of Matteo's reign, pretending it didn't exist. I had faced those horrors every day for three years, and the thought of them spreading to my sister's pack filled me with dread.

I had begged her and Niccolo to leave, to come to Alitos where they'd be safer, but she refused to abandon our father and the pack she still called home. Maybe she believed things would change. I wasn't so naïve.

Alessandro had once told me there were other resistance groups scattered across the continent, but uniting them into a single army seemed impossible. It played right into Matteo's hands. He could pick us off one by one until no one was left to fight.

Still, we wouldn't back down. Our will to resist was stronger than ever, and I had made my peace with the battlefield being my final resting place.

After undergoing rigorous training under Alessandro's guidance, I was given leadership of the elite squad-a small group of those with unique abilities. We had once been fourteen strong, but now our numbers had dwindled to eight. Each of us possessed a distinct skill, whether it was heightened senses or extraordinary reflexes. As for me, I had a rare combination of both, which more or less secured my position as leader.

"Alessandro! Gianna!" A small boy, no older than six, came running toward us, tears streaming down his cheeks. I recognized him immediately. Samuele, from the village near the edge of the Black Blade Pack's territory, half a day's journey from here. As he drew closer, the bloodstain on his tunic came into view, and my stomach churned with dread.

"What happened?" I demanded, gripping his arms and frantically checking for injuries.

"We were... attacked!" His voice broke, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"What? When?" Alessandro's tone was sharp.

"In... the morning," Samuele panted before collapsing to his knees. "They... they killed my brother."

The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the chest. Before I knew it, I was on the ground beside him, pulling him into my arms. He wrapped his frail arms around my neck and sobbed uncontrollably.

Alessandro swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't think Matteo's army would move this fast... I thought we had more time."

"Samuele lives in the village at the base of Cherry Mountain, doesn't he?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Alessandro nodded grimly.

"Enrico and Bruno were sent there last night to help the villagers. They must've been there when it started... I just hope we're not too late."

---

It took more than three grueling hours of hard riding on Nero, Alessandro's black stallion, to reach the foot of the mountain. Wolves would've covered the distance faster, but for us non-shifters, horses were our only option.

As we crested a small hill less than a mile from the village, the sight of thick, dark smoke rising in the distance made my blood run cold. "No..." I breathed, blinking back the stinging tears that threatened to spill over. I couldn't afford to let emotion cloud my judgment-not now.

Pushing Nero to go faster, I urged the stallion down the hill, but my heart sank as soon as we reached the outskirts of the village. Or rather, what was left of it. Every building had been set ablaze, leaving nothing but smoking ruins in their wake, the air thick with the stench of charred wood and burning flesh.

Jumping off Nero, I grabbed my bow and quiver, immediately overwhelmed by the sickening smell of death. I forced myself to close my eyes for a moment, muttering a silent prayer to the Goddess. There had to be survivors. There had to be.

Steeling myself, I began moving through the village, scanning the devastation. But everywhere I looked, I saw only carnage. Bodies, torn apart, littered the blood-soaked ground, turning the dirt roads into rivers of crimson. I pressed a hand over my mouth, fighting the nausea that welled up inside me.

I sharpened my hearing, straining for any signs of life, but the sounds of battle had long since faded. Desperation clawed at my chest. "Enrico!" I called, my voice raw. "Bruno!"

No reply. I continued forward, and the sight before me tightened the knot in my throat. Children. Small bodies, lifeless and broken.

Why did they kill the children? Monsters. Cowards. Tears blurred my vision as I knelt beside a little girl, her throat torn open so viciously that her spine was visible. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into the sky. My hand trembled as I gently closed them, my heart shattering into pieces.

A low, menacing growl suddenly rumbled from the shadows across the road, hidden within the thick smoke. Instinctively, I grabbed my bow, nocking a wolfsbane-tipped arrow and pulling the string taut. I aimed in the direction of the sound, every muscle in my body tense, my breath coming in shallow, shaky gasps. My hands trembled slightly as I waited.

Out of the smoke, a massive black paw appeared, followed by another. I stumbled back as the enormous figure of a black wolf emerged, its burning eyes fixed on me.

An Alpha. I could feel the power radiating from him, and it stole the air from my lungs.

My heart raced in my chest, but somehow, I managed to breathe out the words, choking on them as they escaped my lips, "It's you..."