Chapter 0006

The moment I step through the front door, I know Dad's been preparing for our training session. He always has something new planned when I'm at school. His training regimens are brutal but effective—sprint drills, obstacle courses, combat simulations. No two days are ever the same.

Some days, he strips me of my senses, forcing me to rely on touch alone. Other times, he cripples one of my limbs mid-fight, testing my ability to adapt. The worst was when he took away both sight and sound. I spent half that session flat on my back.

But it works. Every bruise, every failure, makes me stronger.

"Hey, Dad," I say, dropping my backpack by the table before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Evelyn." He smiles, ruffling my hair. "How was school?"

"Fine. Classes are ramping up before finals, but nothing I can't handle."

"Still maintaining your grades?"

"Straight A's," I confirm.

Dad nods approvingly. He's drilled it into me since childhood—strength isn't just physical. A warrior needs a sharp mind just as much as a strong body. That's why my studies focus on anatomy, chemistry, and physiology.

Poison resistance training is the worst. Dad administers controlled doses, monitoring my reactions while the pack doctor stands by. It's miserable, but necessary. Wolfsbane barely affects me now—my system burns through it faster every day.

Tonight's session is agility. An indoor course for human form, another outside for shifting. Obstacles, traps, hidden hazards. It's not just about speed—it's about awareness.

Flying logs swing at me. Slick handholds threaten to send me crashing. In wolf form, knives fly from the shadows, nets drop from above. Dad and Evander guide Selene and me through it, correcting our movements.

By the end, we're both exhausted.

"Shower before Alpha Alistair arrives," Dad orders. "I'll start dinner."

Hot water soothes my aching muscles as Selene murmurs in my mind. We're getting stronger.

I grin. Damn right we are.

Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, hair in a messy ponytail, I bound downstairs just as the doorbell rings.

"Alistair!" I greet him warmly. He insisted years ago that I drop formalities during these visits.

He steps inside with a chuckle. "Evening, Little Hellion."

I groan. "Not you too!"

"If the name fits..." He smirks.

Dad's already outside firing up the grill. I grab two beers from the fridge, popping the caps before joining them on the deck.

They're discussing my training when Alistair suddenly asks, "Did Grant tell you about Evelyn's new nickname?"

Dad raises an eyebrow at me.

I sigh dramatically. "Apparently, I'm now 'Little Hellion.'"

Dad's beer pauses mid-sip. "And how exactly did you earn that?"

Alistair answers for me, grinning. "She pinned me in fifteen minutes flat."

Pride flashes across Dad's face. "That's my girl."

The conversation shifts when Alistair brings up warrior training again—his weekly attempt to recruit Dad back. I slip inside to finish dinner prep, tuning out their familiar debate.

Roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon and maple glaze. Garlic butter potatoes. The men return as I'm setting the table, and we settle into an easy rhythm of food and conversation.

They reminisce about old battles, discuss pack politics. Alistair always asks about my life, carefully avoiding any mention of Adrian. Smart man.

Dessert is Seraphina's famous brownies—rich, fudgy, impossible to resist. We devour them in contented silence.

As I clear the dishes, Alistair hands me an envelope. "From my wife. You're formally invited to Adrian's birthday next weekend."

I force a smile. "Wouldn't miss it."

Dad laughs until Alistair adds, "You're invited too, Grant."

His amusement dies instantly.

I pat his shoulder. "Guess you're my plus-one."

Later, homework spread across my bed, I hear them talking downstairs long into the night. Their voices fade as I drift off, dreading the upcoming party.

Adrian's smirk flashes in my mind.

This is going to be hell.