The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh pine as I stepped further into the Blackthorn Pack’s heart. Smoke from a distant fire mingled with the crisp mountain air, blending with the musky scent of wolves—so many wolves.

The pack was awake now, alive with movement. Warriors trained in a clearing to my left, their muscles rippling beneath the morning sun as they sparred. Some shifted mid-strike, their claws colliding in flashes of fur and fangs before rolling away, panting, only to rise and clash again. Others moved between the rows of wooden cabins that stretched along the forest’s edge, engaged in daily tasks—hauling supplies, tending to the forge, preparing food.

It was a world unlike my own.

A world full of light.

A world I was sent to destroy.

I tightened my grip on the sleeves of the borrowed clothes Ronan had given me. They were plain, practical—far removed from the cold silk and dark armor of my past. The simple fabric sat oddly against my skin, but I didn’t dare adjust it. Every movement, every breath had to be calculated. If I was going to succeed in my mission, I had to blend in.

And that meant being flawless.

Lorien walked ahead of me, his long stride easy and unbothered. His sharp emerald eyes flicked back every so often, watching me with the wariness of a wolf who didn’t trust easily. I was used to stares like that. I had lived my entire life beneath them.

Suspicion. Curiosity. Danger.

But I had long since learned how to play the part.

I would make them trust me.

Even if it killed them.

The Pack’s Suspicion

"Try to keep up," Lorien called over his shoulder, smirking.

I quickened my pace, keeping my expression neutral. "I wasn’t aware we were racing."

He chuckled. "Oh, you’ll know when we’re racing, rogue."

His teasing wasn’t meant to be friendly. It was a test—just like everything else. The wolves of Blackthorn weren’t fools. They smelled deception like blood in the water. If I acted too meek, too quiet, they would question. If I acted too bold, too sure of myself, they would doubt.

It was a game of balance.

A game I had spent my whole life mastering.

The first pack members we passed hardly acknowledged me. Most barely spared a glance, though I caught a few murmurs drifting through the air.

"Who is she?"

"Another rogue? We’re taking in strays now?"

"Ronan found her at the border. Almost got ripped apart by rogues."

I swallowed my irritation and kept walking. Let them think I was weak. Let them underestimate me.

But not all of them ignored me.

I felt the weight of a particular stare before I even turned.

At the entrance to a small wooden hut, a woman stood watching me, her arms crossed. Her golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, but it was the steel in her eyes that caught my attention.

Lorien sighed. "Of course she’s here."

"Who is she?" I asked, feigning idle curiosity.

"A pain in my ass," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Hannah. Don’t you have something better to do than glare at strangers?"

Hannah didn’t so much as blink. "I heard we had a new guest," she said smoothly, looking me up and down.

I met her gaze with carefully measured hesitation—not too bold, not too fearful. Just enough to seem uncertain.

"I didn’t mean to impose," I murmured.

Hannah arched a brow, unconvinced. "Funny. Most people don’t ‘accidentally’ wander into Blackthorn territory."

"Maybe she’s just lucky," Lorien quipped.

Hannah ignored him, taking a step forward. "Or maybe she’s something else."

Her eyes were sharp, too sharp. The way she studied me made my skin prickle. Hannah was dangerous—not because she was physically imposing, but because she was too smart.

I lowered my gaze slightly, shifting my weight in discomfort. "I only wanted a place to rest. I won’t cause trouble."

Silence.

For a moment, I thought she might push further.

Then, finally, she nodded—just once. "Ronan’s call, I guess."

Then she was gone.

Lorien let out a breath. "You should be careful around her."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because Hannah doesn’t trust anyone she hasn’t seen bleed," he said lightly. "And right now? You’re a stranger who hasn’t spilled a single drop."

The pack was structured like a well-oiled machine. Every warrior had a purpose, every movement precise. It wasn’t just power that made Blackthorn formidable—it was discipline.

And discipline was harder to break than brute force.

If I was going to take down this pack from the inside, I needed to understand it.

I let my gaze drift across the camp, memorizing details. Who spoke to whom. Who gave orders. Who followed. I needed weaknesses. Fractures in loyalty. Anything that could be exploited.

But the more I watched, the more I realized something unsettling.

There weren’t many.

Ronan led with an iron will, but he wasn’t a tyrant. His people trusted him. Respected him. Even the ones who questioned me didn’t question him.

I had seen packs ruled by fear.

This wasn’t that.

It made my job much harder.

Lorien stopped in the center of the training grounds, gesturing toward a rack of wooden practice weapons. "Think you can hold your own, rogue?"

I hesitated, letting my fingers brush over the hilt of a training blade. "I don’t want trouble."

Lorien smirked. "Then you’ll fit right in."

He tossed me a blade. I caught it easily, the weight familiar in my grip.

A few warriors had started to gather. Watching. Waiting. Testing.

Perfect.

I let myself struggle at first. Not enough to seem incompetent, but enough to look untrained. I let Lorien disarm me twice, stumbling back, my breath uneven.

He grinned. "Not bad. But you’re hesitating."

I swallowed, exhaling sharply. "I’m just… not used to fighting like this."

Lies.

But believable ones.

And then, when he went for another strike—I let him think he had me.

I twisted at the last second, sweeping my leg under his. Caught off guard, he stumbled, just enough for me to slip behind him and press the wooden blade lightly against his ribs.

The gathered warriors murmured.

Lorien blinked, then laughed. "Oh, I like you."

I stepped back quickly, shaking my head. "It was just luck."

Lorien grinned. "Yeah? Let’s see if you get lucky twice."

I fought three more times. Lost twice. Won once. It was enough to seem real, believable. Enough to gain interest without standing out.

By the time Ronan returned, the tension around me had shifted.

The pack still watched me. But it was different now.

They saw me as one of them.

That was the first step.

Ronan stood at the edge of the training grounds, his eyes locked on me. He had been watching. Listening.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. "Just… trying to earn my keep."

His gaze flickered with something unreadable. "We’ll see if you can."

Then he turned sharply, nodding for me to follow.

I exhaled.

Step one had been earning the pack’s curiosity.

Step two?

Earning Ronan’s trust.

And that…

That was going to be much harder.