🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Konstantin, Sylvanna, and Dmitri.
"This tests character. How you train reveals who you are. Be strategic. Be precise." His eyes lingered on each of them. "Or be brutal. The choice is yours. I will judge accordingly."
The words hung in the air, deliberately vague. Deliberately dangerous.
Because he wasn’t telling them to be kind. He was giving them permission to interpret however they wanted.
And we both knew how Konstantin would interpret it.
My stomach dropped.
"And the throwers?" Konstantin asked, eyes never leaving . "Do we aim for specific targets, or...?"
"Anywhere but the head or throat," Vladimir said flatly. "Everywhere else is fair ga."
Konstantin’s smile widened.
Everywhere else.
Ribs. Stomach. Legs. Arms. Back.
"The test asures reflexes, pain tolerance, resilience under duress," Vladimir continued, finally looking at . "You will endure. You will adapt. Or you will yield."
"How long does it last?" I heard myself ask.
Vladimir’s eyes t mine. "Until you yield. Or until you can no longer stand."
Or until you can no longer stand.
Translation: until they break .
Sylvanna rose from her seat, expression unreadable as she approached Arlo and selected several balls, testing their weight. Dmitri followed, moving with that sa quiet intensity, dark eyes flicking once to before focusing on the equipnt.
And Konstantin—
Konstantin walked straight to the crate and grabbed a handful. He didn’t test them. Didn’t weigh them.
He just stared at while he gripped them, knuckles white, that vicious smile never faltering.
"I have been waiting for this," he said quietly. Just loud enough for to hear.
My legs started shaking.
Arlo approached with the rope, his expression carefully blank.
"Arms," he said gruffly.
I stared at him. At the rope. At the arena behind him where they were marking positions for the throwers.
This was actually happening.
"Lilith." Vladimir’s voice cut through my spiraling panic.
I turned to look at him.
His expression was cold. Controlled. Exactly the sa as always.
Through the bond—nothing. Just that sa steady, immovable presence. No reassurance. No apology.
He’d given to them.
"Arms," Arlo repeated, more firmly this ti.
My hands trembled as I held them out.
The rope was rough against my wrists, binding them together with practiced efficiency. Then Arlo crouched, tying my ankles with just enough slack that I could stand and shuffle, but not run.
Not that there was anywhere to run.
Konstantin was already rolling one of the balls between his palms.
Dmitri stood at his marker, silent and still, six balls held loosely in one hand.
Sylvanna positioned herself at her marker, expression sharp and focused.
And I stood in the center of the arena, wrists bound, ankles bound, completely exposed.
A target.
"Begin," Vladimir said.
The first ball hit before I could even process the word.
Pain exploded in my shoulder—white-hot, bone-deep, radiating down my entire arm. I scread. The sound tore from my throat before I could stop it.
A second ball slamd into my ribs before I’d even caught my breath.
The air left my lungs. I doubled over, gasping, vision swimming.
>I’m here, my wolf’s voice ca through, sharp and focused. Feel it coming. Move with .
A third ball whistled toward my stomach. I tried to twist, stumbled on bound ankles, barely avoided a direct hit. It grazed my hip instead—still hurt like hell.
"Co on, hybrid!" Konstantin’s voice rang out, dripping with false encouragent. "Move faster! Or is this too much for you already?"
Another ball from Sylvanna this ti. Precise. Fast. Aid at my thigh.
>Left! Kaia’s instinct rged with mine.
I shifted. The ball hit my outer leg instead of knee. Still painful, but not crippling.
"That’s it," Sylvanna called, her tone was playful. Like this was just a ga. "Anticipate. React. Don’t be slow."
At least she was not too bad. She was not being cruel. Just teasing.
But Konstantin—
"Aw, look at her trying," he laughed. "Like a puppy learning to fetch. Except the puppy’s about to get put down."
Another ball from him. Harder. Faster. Aid at my ribs again.
I dove right. Hit the ground hard on my shoulder—the sa one already screaming from the first impact. Pain flared bright and vicious.
Up! Now!
I scrambled to my feet just as another ball sailed past where my head had been.
"Move, hybrid!" Konstantin taunted. "Dance for us!"
My breath ca in ragged gasps. Sweat stung my eyes. Every muscle trembled.
>Breathe, Kaia said. Feel the rhythm. We’ve done this before—on the parapet. Sa dance. Trust .
I tried. I really tried.
The next few throws ca in waves—Sylvanna’s precise and asured, Dmitri’s oddly... gentle?
Konstantin threw like he wanted to shatter .
"That’s pathetic!" he shouted. "Is this really the best the hybrid can do? No wonder you’re just a—"
Vladimir’s phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the arena, sharp and jarring.
He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted fractionally. Not much. But enough.
"Continue," he said simply, then turned and walked toward the ruins’ entrance, phone to his ear. Arlo followed without a word.
And just like that—he was gone.
The air changed imdiately.
Konstantin’s grin turned feral.
"Well, well," he said slowly. "Looks like High Alpha has more important things to do than watch a hybrid get what she deserves."
My blood went cold.
"Konstantin," Sylvanna warned, lowering her throwing arm. "The test continues. The rules don’t change because—"
"The rules," Konstantin interrupted, "say we’re testing her. I’m just being thorough."
He grabbed another ball. Then another. Then another—loading both hands.
"Let’s see how much the mouthy little bitch can really take."
The first ball ca so fast I barely registered it.
It slamd into my stomach—hard—driving the air from my lungs. I doubled over, choking, vision blurring.
The second hit my back while I was bent over. The third my thigh.
"Not so clever now, are you?" Konstantin snarled. "Not so fucking brave without your Alpha to protect you!"
>"Kaia—"
>"I’m trying!" My wolf’s voice was strained. "But you’re panicking. I can’t—we’re not in sync—"
Another ball. My side. Then my shoulder again—the sa spot, fresh agony on top of bruising pain.
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