“Again, Liam,” Ivy growled, her voice shaking with anger. Her hands trembled, not with weakness, but with the weight of her rage. Every strike of his sword against hers reminded her of her failure and reminded her of how she couldn’t protect her mother. The day she had stood frozen in her mother’s memory, while Sophia’s smile turned wicked and her mother’s body fell.

How could she have been so weak then? How could she not wake her, save her, and shield her?

Liam’s deep voice broke her away from her thoughts. “Your sword, Ivy. Focus.”

“I won’t be needing it.” Her words cut sharper than his.

He hesitated, lowering his guard slightly, as though unsure if he had heard her correctly. But Ivy’s body burned; her wolf howled inside her, restless and desperate to prove she was not the helpless girl she had once been. Not anymore.

The air around them shifted as she let her wolf free. Power flowed into her veins, filling every muscle with strength, every breath with burning desire. The fear that always came with facing Liam vanished, replaced by adrenaline.

Roaring with all that she was, she lunged. Her claws clashed against his blade, sparks of silver flying through the air. He swung hard, faster than the eye could follow, but she no longer stumbled under his weight. Each time he struck, she found her feet, refusing to fall.

And then, something new happened.

Her eyes burned crimson, and suddenly the world slowed. His movements, every slash, every turn of his wrist, became clear. Patterns formed, his body’s rhythm she had never noticed before. She could see it, predict it, and copy it.

Liam had once told her that her bloodline held a gift, the ability to see through another wolf’s fighting pattern and mirror it. She had never been able to reach that power. Not until now.

Now, it felt as though she had trained and mastered it for this very moment.

When his blade came again, she twisted exactly as he did, turned his strength against him, and disarmed him in one smooth motion. The sword fell to the dirt. Her claws closed around it, and before he could recover, she pressed the point against his throat.

His eyes widened, shock breaking through his hardened face. For the first time since she began training, Liam was the one on the ground.

“Do you still think I’m not ready?” she asked, her voice steady but sharp enough to send her message.

His lips parted. His gaze softened. “Rosa,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Ivy froze. He wasn’t looking at her; he was looking through her, into a memory. His eyes glistened, and for a heartbeat, she saw the raw grief he carried for her mother.

“You fight just like her,” he said finally. His voice cracked, almost reverent. “The powerful wolf, the one who had every alpha bowing to her.”

Ivy’s chest tightened. She wanted to hear her mother’s name, to hold onto the image of her strength. But she clenched her fist, pushing down the ache. “My mother got weakened because she fell in love. I don’t intend to make that mistake. I want revenge. Nothing else.”

A small smile crept onto Liam’s lips. He nodded once, sharp and certain. “Good. Then follow me.”

He led her away from the training yard, down hidden paths she had never been allowed to walk before. They stopped at a door buried into the earth. When he pushed it open, a new world unfolded before her.

The lair.

It was big, lined with old weapons and maps, with symbols carved into stone walls that seemed to tell a story. But what drew her still were the portraits.

At the center of the room, her father stood proudly in paint, his arms around her mother. But the warmth only made her blood boil, especially when her eyes fell on another, him standing beside Sophia, her mother’s best friend. The woman who murdered her.

Ivy clenched her fists, claws digging into her palm.

“This,” Liam said, his voice echoing, “is the truth you already know. After your mother’s death, your father married her best friend. Sophia took what never belonged to her, and you know that.”

He moved past her, lifting a wooden stick from a stand. His steps carried him to the far wall, where three faces stared back from framed sketches.

“Now, Ivy.” His voice grew colder. “These are your stepbrothers. Your gateway into the palace. The palace itself is untouchable, heavily guarded, and impossible to enter without an invitation. “But they,” he tapped the stick against the portraits, “they are your way in.”

Three men. All alike, yet each carrying a different aura.

“Triplets,” Liam said. “Damien. Cassien. Darius. The kingdom knows not to cross their path. Each one dangerous, each one loyal to Sophia’s reign. But they have weaknesses. And you, Ivy, will find them.”

She swallowed hard, staring at their faces. Barely any resemblance to Father; only their cold eyes looked alike. They lived where her mother should have. They breathed while she was supposedly buried.

“How do I draw their attention?” she asked. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

“By becoming one of them.” Liam handed her a leather-bound book. “Tomorrow, you will start at the most prestigious academy. A scholarship student. Brilliant, talented, alone. Someone impossible to ignore. Damien will notice you first; he has to. That is where we begin.”

They stayed in that lair until the moon stood high, plotting every detail. He told her of Damien’s habits, Cassien’s arrogance, and Darius’s cold cruelty. He told her what they liked, what they despised, and how they moved in the palace. Every word was a weapon, and she sharpened them in her mind. And how she was to play the weak role.

By the time he sent her to bed, Ivy’s body buzzed with restless energy. She lay awake staring at the booklet, memorizing every page. The brothers’ faces burned into her eyes until she dreamed of them.

The next morning, she was already dressed when Liam came. His eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a small smirk.

“You’re ready,” he said.

“I have to be.”

“Not for training today,” he replied, leading her outside to the car.

The ride was silent. Her eyes clung to the city as it blurred by. She had never seen so much of it, never stepped beyond the cage Liam kept her in. It was loud, alive, filled with wolves who had no idea who she was or what she carried inside her.

They stopped at a small cabin hidden near the edge of the forest. A simple place, but strong enough to endure storms.

“This will be your home now,” Liam said, handing her the keys. “To them, you are an orphan, surviving on scholarship. This is where you’ll live, and where Damien will come when the time is right.”

She ran her hand along the wooden walls, trying to imagine herself here. Alone for the first time. “The rogues nearby won’t harm you,” he added, his voice lower. “Most of them are not rogues by choice. They were banished for refusing to accept your mother’s death, or Sophia as Luna. They know you are the rightful heir. They will protect you if needed.”

Something warm stirred in her. She wasn’t as alone as she thought, surrounded by people still loyal to her mother. “Tonight,” he said, his tone sharpening again, “we begin.”

By dusk, she was waiting in the woods, crouched low beneath the cover of thick branches. Her heart pounded as she clutched the small pouch of herbs Liam had given her for healing. The plan was simple: Damien would be ambushed during his nightly ride. She would “save” him, tend his wounds, and let him see her as something more than a stranger.

She felt nervous as she listened for Liam’s signal. The night air smelled of pine and smoke, cool against her skin. The forest seemed to hold its breath with her.

This was it. The first step into the palace. The first step toward revenge.

A branch snapped. Then another. Hooves thundered in the distance. Her pulse raced.

And then, he appeared.

Damien.

She froze.

The moment her eyes fell on him, the breath in her lungs vanished. He wasn’t just a name in a book or a sketch in Liam’s lair. He was real. His presence filled the forest like a storm, sharp and overwhelming. His dark hair caught the moonlight, his sharp jaw set in determination. His eyes, gosh, his eyes, burned with something she couldn’t name.

For the first time since she chose revenge, Ivy hesitated.

Because Damien was nothing like she expected.

And as he rode closer, wounded just as Liam promised, she couldn’t move.

She could only stare, stunned, as her plan and perhaps her heart felt like they were on the edge of something she did not yet understand.

But wait. Liam hadn’t attacked yet. He had not given his signal for the start of the mission. So why was Damien here, wounded and followed?