Chapter 2

The next morning I went down to the training center to file my paperwork for Regionals.

That's when I saw them. Senna on Kael's arm.

She spotted me first. Then she ducked behind his shoulder.

"Kael, I'm scared."

Kael stepped forward.

"Eira, don't make a scene."

I tried to go around him. He grabbed my wrist.

"What is your problem? Senna hasn't done anything to you. None of this was her call. Do you really have to take it out on her?"

I yanked free.

"Let go of me."

People in the hallway started staring.

Right on cue, Senna's tears showed up. She slipped out from behind Kael and took a step toward me.

"Eira, I'm so sorry. I never wanted any of this. If you want to hit someone, hit me. I deserve it."

She lifted her chin and leaned closer.

Kael's arm came around her from behind, sliding to her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

"Look at her." His face hardened. "Look at what you're doing to her. I didn't think you could be this cruel, Eira."

The whispers started.

"That's her, right? Works in the equipment room over at Bryn's."

"The one who lost the Northern spot? The halfblood?"

"Can she even shift? I've never seen a hint of wolf on her."

"At least Senna's a real shifter. I'd have picked her too."

I didn't look at any of them. My eyes stayed on Kael.

"I said let go."

He didn't move. He shoved me.

I staggered back into the row of metal lockers behind me. My shoulder blades hit the door and the whole row rattled.

I stayed there for a second, my back against the cold steel, looking up at him.

He looked back at me. His face was blank. Not a flicker. Nothing.

We grew up together.

He was ten when his family sent him here.

His first week in town, he got into a fight with three older boys in the alley behind the training grounds. They split his lip and kicked him until he was spitting blood.

I came around the corner with a freshly sharpened claw blade in my hand. They ran.

After that he followed me everywhere. Whenever someone in town called me a halfblood waste, Kael was the one grinding their face into the dirt for it.

"Eira. I'm here. Always."

"We're getting out of this town. Just the two of us. The North, the Federation, all of it. You and me."

Now he was standing in front of me with another girl in his arms, and he'd just slammed me into a wall.

Senna cried harder.

"Kael, please, let's just go. It's my fault, it's all my fault."

He turned his head and kissed her hair.

"It's not your fault. Not even a little."

He gave me one last look—a warning—and walked past me with her.

I stayed against the lockers until I could breathe properly again.

The office was at the far end of the corridor. On the way I passed the Rising Stars display wall.

Senna's photo hung dead center—bigger than every other one.

Beneath it, in neat black lettering:

This extraordinary shifter has overcome exile and persecution. A story of resilience.

I laughed. It tasted bitter.

I remembered one night, coming back to the equipment room after evening training.

My father, Garrett, was waiting in the parking lot.

"Where's the money?"

I didn't answer. I tried to walk past him.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my face into the exterior wall.

"I'm talking to you. Are you deaf?"

"There isn't any."

"Bullshit." He pinned me against the brick. "That Black Dragon kid throws cash around like water and you're glued to his side every day. You expecting me to believe you can't squeeze a few hundred out of him for your old man?"

He backhanded me.

He started patting me down, ripping at my pockets. I shoved him off.

That was a mistake.

It set him off. He drove his boot into my stomach and put me down.

"You ungrateful little bitch. Just like your mother. Both of you, useless."

Garrett was a purebred gray wolf.

He could break bones in a body like mine—a body with no beast form to soak the hit.

That was when Kael's car pulled into the lot, just as I thought it was all over.

He put Garrett on the ground in two moves and hauled me up.

His hands ran over my face, my arms, my ribs, checking. His voice was shaking.

"Where did he hit you, Eira? Tell me."

I couldn't speak.

He pulled off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and held me.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."

He didn't go home that night. He sat on the beat-up couch in the back of the shop until daylight.

The next day he walked into the local enforcement office and didn't leave until they'd put suppression cuffs on Garrett and locked him in a holding cell.

When he came back, he sat down next to me and said:

From now on, I take care of you. You don't have to worry about anything. Ever.

I believed him.