Chapter one
The Warrior and the Alpha's Son
The sun was barely beginning to climb over the horizon, its golden fingers clawing through the mist that lingered over the pack's training grounds. The air was crisp, biting at skin and fur alike, but for Maya, it was invigorating. She stood in the center of the field, muscles taut, her bare feet pressing into the damp earth. A quiet, fierce focus burned behind her dark eyes.
"Come on, Brent! Is that all you've got?" Maya barked, circling her sparring partner. Sweat gleamed on her brow as she crouched slightly, every inch the predator she had trained to be.
Brent, a gangly wolf still coming into his own strength, huffed in frustration. "You fight like you've got something to prove."
"Maybe I do," Maya replied coolly, grinning as she watched him shuffle to the left. His footwork was sloppy—he was telegraphing his next move. Maya allowed him a small moment to think he was in control before lunging forward. Her body moved like liquid lightning: swift, fluid, precise.
Brent didn't stand a chance.
The heel of her palm struck his shoulder, unbalancing him, and before he could react, Maya spun, hooking her foot behind his knee. He hit the ground with a grunt, breath exploding from his lungs as Maya planted a foot on his chest.
"Yield," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.
Brent groaned, slapping the ground with his palm. "Yield."
A satisfied smile crept across Maya's face as she helped him up. Around them, other young wolves sparred under the watchful eyes of senior warriors. The training ground was alive with the sounds of bodies thudding against the earth, grunts of effort, and occasional cheers of triumph. Maya loved it here. In the ring, strength spoke louder than words, and titles meant nothing. Out here, no one could take her pride away.
"Nice work, Maya," Brent muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder. "You're going to wipe the floor with the next guy."
"That's the plan," Maya replied. Her gaze swept over the crowd, searching for her next opponent.
The air shifted.
A ripple of unease moved through the young warriors, their chatter faltering as heads turned toward the entrance of the field. A tall figure strode across the grass, his movements exuding the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance. Liam.
Maya stiffened.
Liam Blackwood was impossible to ignore. His reputation preceded him—son of the alpha, next in line to lead the pack, and a thorn in her side since childhood. He was broad-shouldered and lean, every inch a warrior, his dark hair tousled as if he hadn't bothered to comb it. There was something unsettlingly magnetic about him, but Maya would rather wrestle a bear than admit that out loud.
Liam's sharp green eyes swept across the field, landing on her like a hunter spotting prey. A slow smirk spread across his lips. Maya's stomach twisted.
"Look who's already making boys eat dirt this early in the morning," Liam said, his voice carrying easily over the noise. It was lazy, taunting, a tone he had perfected over the years.
Maya scowled. "And look who decided to grace us with his presence. You're late."
Liam shrugged, unbothered. "Some of us don't need to try so hard."
Around them, a few of the younger wolves chuckled nervously, torn between amusement and fear of Liam's wrath. Maya's hands curled into fists at her sides. She'd seen his routine before: swagger in, mock someone weaker, and leave with his ego intact. It disgusted her.
"Care to back that up, Blackwood?" Maya challenged, stepping forward. "Or are you just here to flex your title?"
The smirk faltered for half a heartbeat before returning. "You really want to do this, Maya?"
"I'm here to train," she said, her voice even. "And if you think your father's title will protect you in the ring, you're mistaken."
A hushed murmur spread across the field as the other wolves backed up, clearing space. Sparring with the alpha's son was no small thing. Liam's eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, Maya thought she saw a flash of something else—surprise, maybe?—before it disappeared behind his usual mask of confidence.
"You've got guts," Liam muttered as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the grass. His muscles flexed as he rolled his shoulders, and Maya caught more than one girl sneaking glances his way. Her lip curled in irritation.
She wasn't here to swoon. She was here to prove herself.
"Rules?" Liam asked, though his tone implied he didn't care much for them.
Maya cracked her knuckles. "No claws. No teeth. You fall, you lose."
Liam nodded once, his smirk returning as he lowered into a fighting stance. "Ladies first."
Maya didn't hesitate. She lunged, feinting to the right before swinging toward his left. Liam blocked the blow easily, his arm like a steel bar. He countered with a jab aimed at her side, but she ducked, rolling out of reach.
The crowd's murmurs faded as the fight consumed their attention. Maya moved like a shadow, her every step deliberate and light. But Liam was strong—far stronger than anyone she had faced before. His strikes came fast and hard, forcing her to stay on the defensive.
"You're quicker than you look," Liam said, grinning as she narrowly avoided a roundhouse kick.
"And you're slower than I expected," she shot back, sweat beading on her brow.
His grin faltered, and his next strike came harder. Maya deflected it, her forearms stinging from the impact. He wasn't holding back anymore.
Their sparring became a blur of motion, attacks and counters meeting with dull thuds and grunts of effort. Maya's breath came faster now, her muscles burning, but she refused to back down. She could see it in Liam's expression: he had underestimated her. That alone fueled her resolve.
Finally, she spotted an opening.
Liam overextended slightly on a punch, his balance shifting. Maya didn't waste the moment. She twisted her body, hooking her leg behind his knee and driving her shoulder into his chest. Liam's feet left the ground as he crashed onto his back with a loud thud, the air whooshing from his lungs.
The field went silent.
Maya stood over him, chest heaving, her fists clenched at her sides. "Yield," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Liam blinked up at her, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, that infuriating smirk returned. "You've got fire, Maya."
"Yield," she repeated.
He pushed himself onto his elbows, ignoring the dirt smudging his skin. "Fine. I yield."
The crowd erupted into whispers and gasps. No one ever bested Liam—not in combat, not in anything. Maya turned on her heel, ignoring the eyes boring into her back as she strode toward the edge of the field. She didn't need their approval. She knew what she was capable of.
As she picked up her water bottle, she felt Liam's gaze still fixed on her. She glanced back over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. For a split second, the teasing mask he always wore slipped, and something else shone through. Curiosity. Respect. Maybe even something deeper.
Maya scoffed under her breath. "He'll get over it."
But even as she walked away, her wolf stirred uneasily within her. It wasn't pride or victory that settled in her chest. It was something far more troubling.
A pull.
A connection.
Maya pushed it down, refusing to acknowledge it. She would never let someone like Liam Blackwood get under her skin.
And yet, even as she disappeared from the field, his voice lingered in her mind.
"You've got fire, Maya."
She couldn
't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.