He exhaled slowly, watching Eric drag out his conversation with the guards. “Anytime now. Maybe if we stand here long enough, they’ll mistake us for trees and leave us alone.”
Nic huffed, crossing his arms. “More likely chop us down for firewood.”
As if some higher power were eavesdropping, Eric finished speaking to his guards and turned, striding purposefully across the sandy expanse toward the waiting cadets.
Aries let out a breath, his smile tight with unease. “Well, looks like they’ve decided we’re worth chopping down after all.”
Instinctively, the friends crowded together, drawn by some primal need for solidarity. Even Rhea, who had spent much of the morning radiating discontent, set aside her grievances for the moment.
Collin shoved his sweating hands into his pockets, finding a small measure of comfort in their numbers.
Eric approached with the easy swagger of a man who knew he held absolute authority. His smile was amiable—too amiable.
“Good morning, wolf pups.” His tone was light, almost playful, but the spark of danger in his eyes betrayed him. Though he addressed the entire group, his gaze lingered on the three young women, his grin stretching just a little too wide.
“Good morning, Captain Eric,” they replied automatically, their voices drained of any real enthusiasm.
Beside Collin, Dragonfly shuddered. He wished he could squeeze her hand, let her know she wasn’t alone. He didn’t trust Eric’s smile. It was too bright, his gray eyes gleaming with something unspoken, something calculated.
And Collin hated being called awolf pup.
The guards referred to themselves as wolves—predators, enforcers, creatures of strength. But in Collin’s mind, the title was far too noble for men who carried out such deplorable acts.
He had always been fond of wolves. As a child, his father had filled his nights with ancient wolf legends—stories of guardians, protectors of the forest, keepers of departed hunters. Collin’s favorite remained the tale of the White Wolf and her lover, a poem he could never tire of. Wolves were noble. Wolves had honor.
The guards had no right to claim the name. And Collin certainly didn’t want to be associated with them.
Eric’s gaze flicked over his charges, assessing their common-day attire. “There are proper clothes for you lot to change into,” he said, nodding toward a row of boarded-up stalls near the meal pavilion. “But before we get to that, I will divide you into smaller groups. Depending on your progress, groups may change or be dissolved altogether.”
With a simple motion of his hand, the cadets instinctively formed a line. Eric clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly, his sharp gaze dissecting each of them.
“Ladies,” he said, his eyes alone separating the trio, “you three will work under Lieutenant Tate today and run the track. You may go change your clothes.”
Dragonfly, Sky, and Rhea wasted no time peeling away from the boys, scampering toward the changing stalls.
Eric continued his slow, deliberate pacing, his calculating gaze flicking over each cadet. Though he wore a smile, there was no warmth in it—only scrutiny. Did the captain actually remember all their names, or did he simply see them as bodies to be sorted, tools to be sharpened?
Then, abruptly, Eric stopped.
“Nic, Clive, Collin, and Gravis—you four will work with Lieutenant Spencer on muscle building today.”
Collin’s stomach twisted. He didn’t know much about Spencer, but he had heard enough to suspect that muscle building was just a polite way of saying pain endurance.
“Aries, Lekyi, Niall, and Uriah—you boys are with me. We’ll be heading to the lake for a few hours of swimming.”
Collin glanced at Aries, who exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable.
“Go!”
Everyone jumped, and then they sprinted for the stalls.
Collin’s pulse tapped faster in his throat. He’d told himself he was ready, that he’d see this moment coming—but now that it was here, his thoughts scattered like startled birds, and the weight of it settled heavy in his chest, colder than he’d braced for.
There was no escape now.
The changing stall was cool and deeply shaded beneath its low roof. Straw covered the floor, muffling footsteps, and the air carried an aged scent—damp, sweaty, and faintly musty, as if years of training had seeped into the walls.
The stall was divided into two spacious changing areas, separated by partial walls that offered little in the way of privacy. Benches lined the perimeter, and shelves built into one side provided space for personal belongings.
