Three days after the meeting with Mira, Layla still thought about what she had said:
"The more you understand your body, the less afraid of it you'll be."
Did that mean her wolf was hiding because she wasn't strong enough?
She didn't know. But the words stuck to her like a shadow, quiet and persistent.
The night of the conference, she had felt… something, A pull of some sort, like a calling from somewhere deep inside her.
It wasn't a voice, not exactly. More like a feeling, a sensation she couldn't put into words. Like something just out of reach was trying to touch her.
Was it her wolf?
Knock knock.
"Hey, Layla, are you awake?" Janet's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Yes, I am," I called out, already getting up to open it.
"You know you're ten minutes late for training, right?" she teased, standing there in her training clothes, arms folded with that annoying little smirk she always wore when she caught me off guard.
Janet and I had gotten closer over the past few days. She came to my room almost every evening after work—whatever mysterious thing she actually did—and we'd just talk. About anything. Everything.
It felt… safe. And for once, I found myself opening up more. Laughing more.
Healing.
Something about her presence made it easier to breathe.
"Oh my God! Arwen's going to lose it!" I panicked, grabbing my hairbrush and fumbling through my clothes. If there was one thing Arwen despised, it was lateness.
"Why are you still standing here?" Janet said, stepping into the room and giving me a gentle shove. "Hurry up and get changed!"
She flopped onto my bed like she owned the place, watching as I scrambled to put on my training gear.
"Oh my God… oh my God… she's going to kill me," I muttered, frantically hopping into my pants.
I didn't mean it literally, but it might as well be. My muscles were about to pay the price for my unpunctuality.
After what felt like the rush of my life, we finally stumbled onto the training field.
And—just as I feared—Arwen was already there, arms folded, eyebrows drawn into a tight frown, and her left leg tapping the ground in that deadly rhythm I'd learned to dread.
Shit. I swallowed hard.
"Shit, you're getting swiped off the floor today, Lay," Janet whispered, teasing with a mock warning as she waved a finger in my face and walked backward toward her own group.
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
I just stepped forward toward Arwen like I was approaching the gallows.
"G–good morning, I—" I tried to greet her.
"Save it," she cut me off before I could finish.
Cold. Unbothered.
"Go run five laps for being late. After that, we spar."
And just like that, she stepped aside without another word, clearing a path like a silent executioner.
I blinked, throat dry.
God, I'm so dead.
"...Okay," I muttered under my breath and started jogging, my legs already screaming at the betrayal.
************
"Again!" Arwen barked, her voice sharp as a whip.
Layla's breath came in ragged gasps, her muscles screaming, her arms trembling as she pushed herself off the ground. She had lost count of how many times she'd hit the floor—seven? Eight?
"You're too predictable," Arwen snapped, circling her like a wolf eyeing weak prey. "Your movements. Your rhythm. I can read you before you even think."
Layla didn't respond. She couldn't. Every breath burned.
Today's training was exactly what she expected, brutal. Arwen had pushed her harder than ever before.
But that was a good thing, wasn't it?
It meant she was getting stronger. It meant she could handle it. And she was proven right when Arwen finally said, voice low but firm:
"Stand up. I only push until your body can't take it. And right now? Your body can take this."
Layla wiped the sweat from her brow and rose to her feet again, and this time, she didn't stumble.
The next strike came without warning.
Layla didn't think—she moved. Ducking low, she rolled just in time to avoid Arwen's sharp blow. Her heart pounded in her chest, her muscles already aching, but she didn't hesitate. Her body knew what to do before her mind caught up. In one fluid motion, she swept her leg out with precision, aiming low.
Arwen went down.
Or—almost. At the very last second, the older warrior caught herself, planting one hand against the ground and landing in a crouch. She didn't hit the floor completely, but it was clear—Layla had landed the move.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the sound of scattered claps broke across the training field. A few of the other warriors paused their drills, glancing over with nods of approval and quiet grins. One even let out a low whistle.
Layla stared, frozen, eyes wide.
"Did I just—?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper as her gaze met Arwen's.
She took a step back, still catching her breath, then blinked rapidly. "I did. I did, didn't I?"
Excitement surged through her like lightning, chasing away the exhaustion in her limbs. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, not from panic—but disbelief. Pure, giddy disbelief.
"You did," Arwen said simply. Then, pushing herself up with fluid grace, she added, "Again."
They kept going.
Strike after strike, dodge after dodge. The heat of the sun bore down on them as time slipped away unnoticed. Muscles burned, sweat dripped, and bruises formed, but Layla didn't stop.
It was the longest she had ever trained.
And she loved every moment of it.
***********
"Hey there, big shot."
Janet's voice carried across the dining hall, light and teasing, drawing a few glances as she made her way over to where Layla was seated. Heat crept up Layla's cheeks instantly. She ducked her head, already bracing for whatever embarrassing thing Janet was about to say next.
Janet was all smiles—big, cheesy, unapologetically proud. God, she was so... happy. Effortlessly loud in the best way.
"I heard you landed one on Arwen today," she said, grinning as she came to stand behind Layla and placed her hands on her shoulders. She pressed down gently, giving them a playful squeeze. "Niiice."
"I tried," Layla mumbled, eyes fixed on her plate, her voice barely audible. She wasn't used to speaking up in front of so many pack members. Most of them were still eating, but Layla could feel their attention lingering, curious about what the commotion was about.
"Oh, please," Janet rolled her eyes, releasing her shoulders as she moved to the empty chair beside her. "If it were me, I'd be bragging to anyone with ears."
"It wasn't a big deal," Layla replied softly, still trying to be modest—even though she knew it wasn't something just anyone could do. She had actually knocked Arwen off balance. That counted for something.
Janet took a bite of her food and then, as if casually remembering something, turned to her again. "Anyway. Since you've rested and all that—wait, did you rest?"
"Yes, I did," Layla nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. Honestly, there had been no choice. Her body had practically collapsed after training. The ache in her muscles still throbbed, but it was the good kind—the earned kind.
"Good," Janet clapped her hands together, a spark of excitement lighting up her face. "We're going out tonight, it's a party."
Layla blinked. "A party?" she asked, startled by the sudden shift in conversation.
"Yes, a party," Janet confirmed without missing a beat. "I'll be at your door by 8:30 to help you get ready. Be expecting me."
With that, she turned back to her food like she hadn't just dropped a bomb on Layla's quiet evening.
Layla stared at her for a second, then let out a breath and muttered, "Okay," not wanting to argue.
Not that Janet would have listened anyway.