Chapter 15
VESSA
Upon our return to Tukkon, Axe breaks off to summon his advisors in the lower chambers.
I don't see him for the rest of the day. Or the day after. In my window of solitude, I take advantage of the time to strategize. Until Maurleen and I can reconvene after the next full moon, my secret must remain undisclosed. That leaves me with a little over three weeks to avoid breaking Axe’s trust and keep his inner circle off my trail.
If I think about it in stages, it’s not so bad—I can handle a few more weeks, and once I do, I only need to survive two more.
And that’s if he doesn’t bite me before our deal expires.
As I step out onto the stone courtyard, no one scolds me or whispers of my vanishing four nights ago.
Rather, I’m met with nodding heads, hesitant smiles, and several raised tails of wolves in passing.
All are cordial, except for a teenager who stares at me like a deer in headlights when I flag him in the quad asking where I might find Tesni.
"If she's not in the sparring fields, you could try for the barracks," the freckled male suggests.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Tripp," he answers. "I'm a grunt.”
A giggle rolls off my tongue. Apparently, this means he’s a recruit for the warrior band.
"As one of her cadets, I should probably warn you—sometimes she doesn't want to be found."
I thank the young cadet and follow him to the barracks where warriors are made.
Baring down against brisk winds, we approach the large training facility with a black metal roof.
Unlike the other structures on Bleeding Sun's land, this building is crafted from steel and painted brick, a seemingly indestructible fortress.
Several windows with black tessellating frames allow me to peer inside to view three large racks of weights and other exercise machines.
My gaze pans further, studying three other areas designated for personal fitness training as well as a sparring ring, which is currently occupied by Shay's sister, Gemma, and another girl her age.
One of the veteran warriors covered in intricate tattoos supervises them on the sideline with narrowed eyes.
For a moment, I watch as their wrapped fists slam into each other's toned bodies, flinching each time a powerful hook contacts unguarded flesh.
Tripp and I pad over to the stairwell, where I take in the full scope of the facility. Surrounded by all this heavy machinery and muscled bodies, I feel like a fish out of water. A pitifully out-of-shape fish, to be exact.
Downstairs, it’s almost as if I've been transported to a top-secret military base.
Like the bowels of Lupine Manor, this floor feels like a fortified apocalyptic shelter.
Off the last step, the lowest level of the building splits into a hallway of opposing doors.
At least three are labeled as storage rooms, which are clearly purposed for ammunition.
Silver. At the end of the hall, the door on my left is propped open. Tripp enters first.
I almost gasp as I take my first step inside.
The room is lined with cabinets full of guns—vintage muskets, handguns, long-range assault rifles, and other weapons I didn't even know existed. Wyatt would be giddy if he saw all of this. Heartlands enforcement, on the other hand, would probably shit themselves. What kind of clearance the Skornokovys must have to own this many firearms is beyond me. But then again, this is Aurora’s Belt.
Many people inhabit these lands because they know how easy it is to slip between the cracks.
A thick glass container in the left corner of the room catches my eye. The case is locked tight and secured with a keypad, but I can make out most of its contents. An arsenal of silver daggers, arrowheads, and other lethal gadgets.
“This looks awfully high above a mechanic’s paygrade,” I mumble.
Tripp nods. “Axe is also one of the region’s most exclusive gunsmiths. He builds and supplies weapons to ex-enforcers and private clients. In addition to the barracks, the basement of Lupine Manor is stocked with cases of silver bullets, forged and distributed by Qinnu’s unit.”
According to the cadet, Axe, and Qinnu underwent training and certification during their time with the Agathoran military. Now, they operate in Tukkon, out of the motorcycle shop, which is a front for his side business. From there, the pair distributes the most lethal silver money can buy.
The cadet pinpoints Tesni in the closet large enough to hold a workshop. She is hunched over a chair sharpening a long silver blade, her dark hair pulled back high and tight. I watch as her tool travels along the curved steel, smoothing it with effortless precision.
She addresses me curtly. “What brings you to the barracks?”
I clear my throat. “I’d like to train with you. I hear you’re the best.”
“I am not actively looking for any new recruits to join my unit,” she says, picking up a new blade to tend to. “Perhaps you should ask around.”
“The Alpha’s sister recommended you specifically.”
The Sentinel sets her blade down and turns to assess me.
The inked flames that contour the muscles of her arms are sharper than others I’ve seen here, tapering at the base of her collarbone.
From there, an intricate tribal pattern ascends the column of her neck.
Pure intuition tells me that this captain is the deadliest of all these apex predators.
A sleek jaguar amongst foul-tempered beasts.
Tesni sits up, straight as an arrow. “Why do you wish for me to teach you these new skills? Do you intend to fight alongside us?”
I swallow a surge of anxiety. The chances I’ll ever fit in here are slim to none. “I want to know how to better handle myself if I ever encounter a vampire again.” Or any other monsters, for that matter.
Tesni’s eyes narrow. “And if I do not trust you, human?”
My mouth dries out. Not off to a great start here.
She purses her lips. When I fail to respond, she presses again. “Why should any of us trust you?”
All I can think of is how I wish things could go back to the way they were before.
One chance to go back to the day before everything flipped on its head.
Tour one last museum with Dad. Mark up my latest script.
Watch Benjamin tinker with his new telescope.
Taste-test Mom’s latest creation. All the ordinary privileges I took for granted.
“I . . .” Finally, I cough up the words. “I’m so sick of feeling helpless to the fact that any day now, someone else could come along and pluck me from my existence. I’d give anything to feel like there’s one thing in this world that I can control.”
Her knuckles blanch as she conjures the past in her mind.
“After my parents were slaughtered, I chose the path of a warrior. Not just to defend the members of this pack, but to honor my ancestors. The lost Norgsik people. I am the last of them, the original lycan clan to settle in northern Immaren. My people were all skilled warriors. They held this land a thousand years ago, before territories were drawn, before the Volkenese silver trade was born and the Skornokovy family took power over the continent.”
My breathing thins. “You must carry an enormous legacy.”
Tesni nods. “To be a warrior isn’t just mastering the weapons in this room. It is mastering your mind. It is allowing your body to be used for a higher purpose. I fight to respect and uphold their traditions, to keep the spirit of those wolves alive.”
I admire the markings of her neck. An homage to her ancestors.
“My intention is what centers me during my training and during combat. It is what quiets my mind when my emotions threaten to overtake me. When pain tries to force me to surrender. Before any weapon is put in your hands, first you must stop feeling sorry for yourself. That is the only way I will train someone.”
I gulp. “I see.”
Tesni returns to her sharpening station, selecting a new knife to refine. "Do you have any combat experience?"
Thanks to Wyatt, I know my way around most guns.
But I’ve never fired one at an enemy. My mind flashes back to my favorite role from primary school, the scene that made me want to pursue acting at the highest level.
A ridiculous sword fight in the third act when my gender-bending character takes on a tipsy knight.
I almost snort, though Tesni probably wouldn’t if I tried to count a choreographed duel as legitimate experience.
“When you have found your true motivation, come back to me.”
A pit of disappointment sours in my mouth.
She stuffs the two blades into the crossbody quiver, slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a drill to officiate.”
On Thursday, after the last briefing has adjourned, Nell greets me with a rib-crushing hug and a bouquet of flowers, along with a small paper bag.
Crossing the room, she swaps the fading vase of lilies on the vanity for snow-white tulips and cheerful daffodils.
An early offering of spring, which feels exactly like what I came back for. A new beginning.
Kicking back her swollen feet, Nell shares what little she can about the inner circle’s plans to send vampire-hunting parties east. As I am not a formal member of the pack, there are some details she isn’t authorized to disclose, a boundary she is obligated to uphold until I have pledged myself to the Alpha.
Along with the flowers, Axe’s latest note explains that he's left town for the day to survey the southern border of Aurora’s Belt, near the outskirts of the capital. He suggests that when he returns, the two of us try another shot at a date.
I unfold the brown bag and pull out a familiar favorite of mine, unable to contain a grin. It’s black licorice. Axe may be a bit of a brute, but so far, he’s proven himself a capable listener.
Nell’s brows wrinkle at the candy. “It’s alright to let him work for it, you know. Alpha females are notoriously difficult to impress."
Setting the bag on the vanity, I can't help but lightly caress the tulip petal. It's softer than a feather.
I glance over my shoulder. It’s strange hearing her talk about me with the hierarchal reference. Especially because all my life, I’ve been considered the odd man out. The omega.
“Are you suggesting I should raise my standards?"
Cora smirks as she enters the room. "You know what you really need, Vessa? A girl's night out.”
Immediately, my ears perk up. The Beta shakes her head at the idea. “Seriously? She just got back.”
Cora adjusts her voluminous ponytail in the mirror. The medic is trouble personified in a cropped, long-sleeve black top and a leopard-print miniskirt. "It'll just be cocktails and dancing. Don’t give me that look, Nell, it’s been ages since I had a night away from the baby."
“If Qinnu catches you in that outfit, he’s going to give you another one.”
Dancing, a voice in my mind sighs with longing. How long has it been since I moved to music, since I last let myself go?
"Count me in." I smile.