Selene growls, pacing as she sniffs every corner of the room. Her hackles are stiff. Even though she's just a dog right now, it's still intimidating.
That bastard was here, Selene confirms, after sniffing around the bedroom. He won't harm you. Her lip curls back into a soft snarl. I can sll his regret with every step he took.
I collapse, my legs too weak to hold up. That refreshed, revitalized feeling is gone. Only fear remains.
"What am I going to do? I can't stay here. If he found , that ans Dad can find ."
Perhaps. Selene stretches with a large yawn. I would not worry yet, cub. You are not as defenseless as you once were, and you cannot run forever.
"But—"
You cannot run forever, Selene repeats forcefully, and I fall silent, struggling against the panic fluttering against my ribcage. One day, you might have to fight back.
Fight back?
I'd never imagined fighting back.
How can a wolfless defect fight back?
You are not wolfless, she reminds , settling on the couch after a few circles. You are strong. You have . We will not return to your pack.
"What will we do?" I ask helplessly.
Selene yawns again. Live, she says simply. Just as you have been. Do not borrow trouble before it finds you.
* * *
I sigh and fall onto the couch cushions, trying to let Selene's words wash over . Live. Just live. It sounds so simple when she says it like that.
Selene lifts her head, those piercing blue eyes fixing with an intent stare. You cannot keep going as you have been, though. Your body is soft. Weak. You must strengthen it.
A frown tugs at my lips. "What do you an?"
She pushes my arm with her cold, wet nose. Exercise. Train your body as you would your mind. You cannot rely solely on to protect you forever.
I blink at her. I'm not completely soft. I've had to learn to run. But to Selene, I'm soft.
I guess that makes sense. I'm nothing compared to shifters. She wants to get fit. To toughen up, build muscle, increase my stamina. A tremor of trepidation runs through , but I can't deny the logic in her words.
If Todd—or anyone from my pack—cos for again, I need to be able to defend myself. My only chance at true freedom is becoming strong enough to fight back if necessary.
With a slow nod, I steel my resolve. "Okay. What do I need to do?"
The next morning, I approach Mrs. Elkins with a request to leave work early three days a week. I spin a vague story about a class I've decided to take, not daring to reveal the real reason.
Mrs. Elkins's brow furrows in concern, but she doesn't pry. "Of course, dear. As long as you can have your work done before you leave, I don't mind at all."
Relief washes over . "Thank you, Mrs. Elkins. I really appreciate your understanding."
She gives one of her warm, grandmotherly smiles. "Not a problem, Ava. Just take care of yourself, alright?"
I force a smile in return, her kindness lancing through my chest. If only she knew...
That evening, Selene leads through a series of basic calisthenics in the privacy of my small living room—push-ups, sit-ups, air squats, a hundred each. My muscles strain and burn with the unaccustod exertion, but I grit my teeth and push through the discomfort.
This becos our new routine. Three nights a week, after leaving work early, I et with a self-defense instructor nad Kyle that Selene sohow dug up. He's an older packless wolf, his lined face and calloused hands speaking of a hard life. But his pale blue eyes hold a kindness that puts at ease from the start.
To Kyle, Selene is just an ordinary husky tagging along with her owner. He doesn't seem to notice anything amiss, which is probably for the best. I'm not sure I could explain the truth even if I wanted to.
The training is grueling. Kyle runs through basic strikes, blocks, grapples and takedowns, pushing to my limits. I leave each session bruised, my body screaming in protest.
But I persevere, following Selene's firm encouragent. Because with each passing week, I can feel myself growing stronger. My endurance increasing, my movents becoming more fluid and precise.
I'm toughening up, preparing myself for whatever challenges may still lie ahead. No longer will I be a helpless victim waiting for soone else to save .
A few nights a week, I co ho to the scent of Lucas in my apartnt, but I have yet to catch sight of him. I'm not sure how to feel about that, so I try not to think about it too much. I changed the locks, but he still makes it in.
More shifters have been appearing in town, stopping by The Novel Grind. I can hear them talking about war between the Blackwood and Westwood packs. I want to know more, but I don't know how to dig up the information. It isn't like I can just check this sort of news on the internet—werewolves tend to lie low with their pack information.
I haven't heard any more talk about , though. I'm not sure what that ans, and I'm too scared to find out. I should probably reach out to the pack alpha here, but I don't know how he feels about my family or my pack. I can't risk him wanting to hand over.
So I just—live. Like Selene said. I go to my class. I work at The Novel Grind. I train.
I'm not at ease, though Selene doesn't seem too concerned. I can't help looking over my shoulder more often these days. But aside from Lucas' presence in my room, his scent all over my things, there's nothing different around .
Until now.
I put on a fake smile, looking at the person in front of like I don't recognize them. "Hello. What would you like to order today? We are currently running a special on all our hot coffee."
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