14. Chapter 14
The training yard was alive with morning energy, warriors moving through drills while the winter sun climbed higher. Rhys stood at the edge of the clearing, the cold finding his thigh through the layers, watching Nadia work through basic blocks with Sage.
She’d been training for three days now. Three days of watching her transform from a woman who only knew how to flee into someone learning to fight back.
The change was subtle but unmistakable, how she held her weight, the calculation in her movements, the absence of the constant flinch that had marked her first weeks at Blackridge.
“Again.” Sage’s call rang sharp through the yard. “You’re telegraphing the strike. Keep your shoulders level.”
Nadia reset her stance, her dark hair pulled back in a practical braid.
She wore borrowed training clothes that hung loose on her frame, she’d gained weight since arriving, but months of starvation had left their mark.
Her last strike had landed wide. The one before that had stopped halfway through because her body had flinched away from the contact at the last second.
Three days in and her hands still wanted to apologize before they swung.
She moved. The strike came faster this time, her fist connecting with Sage’s raised palm with a solid thwack that echoed through the clearing.
“Better.” Sage dropped her guard slightly. “Now try to, ”
Nadia didn’t wait. She pivoted, using the opening Sage had deliberately created, and her second strike caught the other woman’s shoulder before Sage could block.
The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt. But it was real. Solid. The hit of someone who’d stopped pulling her punches.
Rhys’s wolf gave a low approving growl, the reverberation drumming through him. His fists curled at his sides as pride crashed through him with physical force.
It didn’t just warm. It flared.
Heat tore through him, sharp and consuming, as if his wolf had lunged to claim what was already his.
Mate.
The word wasn’t gentle. It was instinct.
Rhys dragged in a breath and forced the surge back down before anyone could see it.
She’d done it. She’d stopped fighting like prey and started fighting like a wolf who knew her own teeth.
Around the yard, other warriors paused to watch. A few nodded approval. One of the younger wolves whistled appreciation.
Sage grinned, rubbing her shoulder. “There it is. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.” She reset her stance. “Again. And this time, don’t apologize with your eyes before you swing.”
Nadia’s expression shifted, determination replacing the careful caution. She moved again, and this time her strikes came in combination, one, two, three, each one building on the last.
Sage blocked them all, but she had to work for it. When they broke apart, both women were breathing hard.
“Good.” Sage’s approval was genuine. “You’re starting to trust your instincts instead of overthinking every move.” She glanced toward the edge of the clearing, her gaze landing on Rhys for a brief moment before returning to Nadia. “Take a water break. Then we’ll work on defense.”
Nadia nodded, walking toward the bench where she’d left her water bottle. She tipped her head back to drink, her throat working, and her eyes found Rhys over the rim.
It hit like a wire pulled taut between them. Not warm. Electric. Her lips were wet. Her training shirt clung to her ribs where sweat had soaked through, and she didn’t look away. Didn’t break the contact the way she usually did.
Three seconds. Five. Long enough for his wolf to go absolutely feral behind his ribs.
Then she lowered the bottle and turned back to Sage, and Rhys remembered to breathe.
He should leave. Sage had the yard. He was only getting in the way.
Two wolves crossed the yard with empty hands. Their supply run had failed again. One of them caught Rhys’s eye and shook his head once.
Later, between drills, the wolf found him. “The merchant at the crossing wasn’t just out of stock. He was scared. Wouldn’t look at us. Packed his stall before we’d even turned around, like someone was watching him.”
Rhys asked if the merchant named anyone.
The wolf shook his head. “No name. But he mentioned a buyer running quiet orders through the valley. River-wash herbs. Juniper bundles. Payment up front, delivered to a contact who never gave a face. Whoever’s building that supply chain is building it for a reason. ”
Rhys filed that away. Fear in a merchant’s eyes meant pressure coming from above.
“You planning to actually join us, or are you just going to lurk in the shadows all morning?”
Rhys turned to find Declan approaching, the other warrior’s expression amused but pointed. Declan had been one of the wolves who’d helped carry Rhys back to Blackridge after the ambush, had seen him at his worst and never treated him with the careful pity that others couldn’t quite hide.
“Making sure the drills run clean.”
“Right.” Declan crossed his arms. “That’s why you’ve been standing in the exact same spot for forty minutes, watching your mate learn to throw a punch.” He paused. “You could teach her yourself, you know. You were the best hand-to-hand fighter in the pack before, ”
“Before I became useless in a fight?” The bitterness escaped before Rhys could control it. He forced his expression back to neutral. “She’s better off learning from Sage. Someone who can actually demonstrate the moves without collapsing halfway through.”
Declan’s teeth ground. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” His thigh picked the worst moment to remind him. “I can’t shift. I can’t move at warrior speed for more than a minute before the leg quits. What exactly am I bringing to a fight that could end with you taken or worse?”
“How to be tactical?” Declan’s voice hardened.
“How to read an opponent’s weaknesses. How to turn limited mobility into an advantage instead of a death sentence?
” He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“You’re one of the smartest fighters I’ve ever seen.
That didn’t disappear when your leg got shattered. ”
Rhys looked away, watching Nadia drink water while Sage demonstrated a defensive stance to one of the younger wolves. Wanting to show her what he’d once been capable of before the ambush shattered his leg.
“I’m not hiding.” The response sounded defensive. “I’m being realistic about my limitations.”
“Are you?” Declan didn’t raise his voice.
“Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been using those limitations as an excuse to stop trying.
” He held up a hand before Rhys could respond.
“I’m not saying the injuries aren’t real.
I’m saying you decided a long time back that they were permanent, and you’ve never questioned that assumption. ”
Rhys went still. “The healers told me, ”
“The healers said your wolf might never shift again. Might. Not definitely.” Declan’s gaze was steady. “And they said your leg would never fully heal. But ’never fully’ doesn’t mean ’can’t improve.’ It means you’ll always have limitations. That’s not the same as being broken.”
Across the yard, Nadia had returned to training. She moved through the defensive sequence Sage demonstrated, her body learning the rhythm of block and counter.
His wolf watched with hungry intensity, pride tangling with longing. She was growing stronger every day. Learning to trust her own power. Becoming the wolf she’d never been allowed to be.
And he was standing on the sidelines, watching her transform while he remained stuck in the same battered body, the same limited existence he’d accepted as permanent.
“What if I try and fail?” The admission came out raw. “What if tonight ends up being just another night I cannot give her?”
“Then you’ll know.” Declan held her gaze. “And knowing is better than wondering.” He paused. “But what if you try and something does change? What if your wolf can shift again, even if it’s not the same as before? What if your leg gets stronger, even if it never fully heals?”
His voice stripped down to bone. He’d built his identity around his limitations. The injured wolf. The tactical mind without the body to execute his strategies. The alpha who’d been reduced to giving orders from a desk while wolves he should have been leading bled in the field.
What would it mean to let go of that identity? To admit that maybe he’d been hiding behind his injuries instead of fighting to overcome them?
“She deserves safety.” The words escaped before he could stop them. “A mate who can keep her alive when it matters. One who can shift and fight and, ”
“She chose you.” Declan’s interruption was firm.
“Not the warrior you used to be. Not some hypothetical version of yourself. She chose the wolf standing here right now, bad leg and dormant shift and all.” He met Rhys’s gaze directly.
“Maybe stop deciding what she deserves and start believing you’re worth choosing. ”
Nadia had chosen him. Had kissed him first. Had moved closer to the main lodge not because the bond demanded it, but because she wanted to be near him.
She’d chosen him broken. But that didn’t mean he had to stay that way.
Across the yard, Nadia landed another solid hit, this one fast enough that Sage had to work to block it. The fierce satisfaction on Nadia’s face was beautiful, the expression of someone discovering their own strength.
To praise her. To show her that he saw her transformation and it mattered.
The training session was winding down. Warriors dispersed toward the main lodge, discussing technique and strategy. Sage clapped Nadia on the shoulder, saying something that made her smile, a real smile, unguarded and genuine.
Rhys’s wolf didn’t like that.
The sound of her laughter pulled something sharp through his chest.
It wasn’t rational. Sage was pack. Trusted.
But instinct didn’t care about logic.
Instinct wanted her attention. Her smile. Her warmth.
Instinct wanted to step between them and make it clear who she belonged to.
Then Nadia’s gaze found Rhys across the clearing. Her expression shifted, something warm and uncertain flickering through her features. She hesitated, then walked toward him.
Rhys’s breath caught. His wolf strained, desperate and hopeful.
“Think about it.” Declan let the words settle. “You’re not the only one who gets to choose growth.” He moved away, leaving Rhys standing alone as Nadia approached.
“You watched the whole session.” Not accusatory. “Your pulse was in my ribs the entire time.”
He took one slow step forward. Not close enough to touch. Close enough to feel her.
His hand lifted toward her waist. Stopped. Hovered.
The air between them burned.
Rhys didn’t move.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.” Rhys forced himself to meet her gaze. “I can leave if, ”
“I didn’t say I minded.” Nadia stepped closer, her dark eyes searching his face. “I just wondered why you were standing so far away.” She watched him a beat longer. “You could have joined us. Sage said you used to train the warriors before—” She caught herself. “Before.”
“Before I became dead weight in a fight.” The bitterness escaped again, sharper this time.
Nadia’s expression shifted. She closed the remaining distance between them, standing near enough that her scent reached the salt-sweet scent of her exertion mixed with her natural omega warmth.
“You’re not dead weight.” Her tone held steady. “You’re the wolf who leaves supplies without demanding acknowledgment. Who stands back when your instincts scream to crowd closer. Who looks at me like I’m a person and not a problem to solve.”
Heat rolled through him in one hard wave.
Rhys covered her hand with his, warmth spreading under their joined palms.
“I watched you land that hit on Sage.” His voice came out rough. “My wolf—” He had to set his jaw before he could speak again. “I’ve never felt pride like that. Watching you discover your own power.”
“Then why do you look so sad?” Nadia’s thumb brushed against his sternum. “Every time I see you watching, there’s pride in your eyes. But there’s grief too.”
“I’m not sad,” Rhys said. The lie tasted bitter. “I’m, ”
“Rhys.” Nadia’s hand pressed firmer against his chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide behind careful words when the bond lets me feel the truth.”
“I don’t know how to be what you need.” The admission tore out of him. “Don’t know how to protect you when I can’t even shift. Can’t run without my leg giving out. Can’t be the warrior you deserve.”
“I don’t need a warrior.” Nadia held steady.
“I need someone who sees me as more than my designation. Who gives me space to grow instead of caging me for protection. Who believes I’m worth defending not because of what I can offer, but because of who I am.
” Her eyes held his. “That’s you. Broken leg and dormant wolf and all. ”
A stitch came loose under his ribs. He lifted his free hand, cupping her face with careful reverence. “What if I could be more?” The question escaped before he could stop it. “What if I stopped accepting broken as permanent and started fighting to heal?”
Nadia’s voice dropped to a whisper. The connection held between them, warm and certain. “Then I’d fight beside you.” “The same way you’re fighting beside me.”
Rhys drew her in until his forehead pressed against hers. Around them, the training yard had emptied. They stood alone in the winter sunlight.
Rhys kissed her softly, tasting salt and determination. When they broke apart, something had shifted in him. Not certainty. But possibility.
“Stay close tonight?” His tone was thick. “I want—” He swallowed hard. “I want to try something. To see if my wolf can wake up enough to shift.”
Nadia’s eyes widened. Then fierce determination flooded her expression. “I’ll be there.” Her hand tightened against his neck. “Whatever you need.”
Rhys gathered her against him. His thumb found the wrist where the rope marks still showed and traced the pulse beneath them.