Jace

War hangs over the training grounds like a storm cloud, heavy and electric. The warriors move across the dirt clearing in synchronized formation—shifting, striking, dodging, testing their limits. Grunts, growls, and the crack of colliding bodies echo through the air.

But my eyes aren’t on them.

My eyes are on her.

Stevie stands across the field, her dark hair pulled into a messy braid, sweat glistening on her golden-brown skin. She’s sparring with one of the bigger wolves, a solid wall of muscle who underestimates her every damn time. She moves like fire—fast, unpredictable, deadly.

My wolf practically purrs. Mate. She is ours. Claim her.

I grit my teeth....