“I can’t teach you how to kill my kind,” Russel said. Doing something like that would get him branded a traitor to his people. There were no words for what they would do to him if they ever found out he betrayed them and told a human what their weaknesses were. “If anyone ever found out I told a human the secrets of my kind, they would destroy me.”

She whirled on him, and she stood there, silhouetted against a backdrop of roaring flames. He could see her pain. Could practically feel the anger coming off her. She wanted justice and Russel knew he would feel the exact same way if their roles were reversed.

“I don’t want to kill all werewolves,” she snarled at him, tears coming down her cheeks. “I want to kill Drake! And the other ones with him. I can’t do that if I don’t know how.”

“Then you won’t be able to at all,” he said, still trying to be gentle with her. “As abhorrent as Drake and the others with him are, they are still werewolves. Teaching a human how to kill us is against the laws of my kind. You can’t ask me to do that.”

She turned away from him, her entire body shuddering.

“Then get away from me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. He could tell she was crying.

Russel felt a war inside himself. He was torn between doing the right thing for his kind and helping this girl get justice. Why? He had no idea. He just met her but there was something undeniably magnetic about her. She pulled him to her and despite knowing there was a high chance things between them wouldn’t end well, he couldn’t help but let that pull take hold of him. She had fire in her soul. A fighter’s spirit. He was captivated by her unwillingness to just sit back and let the deaths of her loved ones tear her completely down.

With a sigh, he came to a decision.

“I can’t teach you how to kill us,” he told her. “But I can train you to fight.”

She turned toward him, something like hope flickering in her eyes. It had to fight viciously to get past all that rage and anger he saw.

“If that’s all you can offer, then I accept,” she said.

“It isn’t going to be easy. In fact, you’re going to hate me quite a bit when it’s all said and done.” He pinned her gaze with his and there was no sense of humor or good-natured joking in his face. “And I am not going to go easy on you. If you want this, you have to commit to it. No grumbling. No pushing back at me. You do everything I tell you without question. If you can’t do that, then I can’t train you.”

The words he spoke to her were almost the exact same words his own instructor had said to him when he was a young child in his first fighting lessons. His instructor’s name was Cleona Jai. She originally came from the kingdom of Sarchi, a small, barely recognized kingdom of werewolves on the other side of Alcroft. Most of the time, they kept to themselves and stayed out of everyone else’s affairs. Cleona, according to her, grew bored there and sought a life where she could ply her…talents…more productively. Oclan, she had told Russel when he was a boy, seemed like the perfect place.

“Fine,” Lola said.

Russel kept her gaze pinned with his for a few more seconds, trying to gauge her level of seriousness.

He got his answer.

She didn’t back down. She didn’t balk. She didn’t even move. He was quite sure Lola would let him train her right into a grave if it meant she would be able to learn to protect herself and maybe get revenge at the same time.

“Okay,” he said. “I want you to remember this moment. Burn it into your mind. Whenever you feel like giving up or letting your body give up, remember the strength of your conviction. You will need it.”

She didn’t say anything back to that. Instead, she turned from him and stared into the flames. They were starting to dwindle now. Most of the buildings were blackened rubble still glowing with sullen, red light. A few others still blazed brightly. Overhead, clouds had moved across the moon, blocking its light. A light drizzle fell. It was if the heavens themselves weeped with Lola as if they felt her pain.

Russel let her stay there for as long as she needed.