CHAPTER 41: THERE HE IS

Kaya

I wake up to a puffy face and red-rimmed eyes—just as I expected. Sleep barely came to me last night, my mind too restless, too caught up in the rush of emotions. The thought of finally having a friend, of taking the first real steps toward shaping my own future, had kept me wide awake.

A future I choose.

My nerves and excitement refuse to let me stay in bed any longer. By five-thirty in the morning, I’m already dressed and heading outside, not wanting to risk being late. If I struggle to find the training grounds, at least I’ll have time to figure it out.

To my relief, the place isn’t hard to find, and to my surprise, I’m not the only early bird here.

Oliver is already on the field, his athletic form moving with ease, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead under the dim morning light. He looks like he’s been at it for a while.

"Hey, Kaya," he greets me with an easy smile, his tone warm and friendly.

"Good morning," I reply, my voice scratchy from disuse. I clear my throat, feeling awkward. "I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here this early."

Oliver chuckles, running a hand through his spiky hair. "Yeah, well... I wasn’t planning to be here either. It just kinda happened."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? How so?"

A nervous laugh escapes him as he looks away, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Then, as if making up his mind, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Can I tell you something weird? But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

Something in his tone makes me hesitate. A part of me isn’t sure I want to hear whatever he’s about to say.

Still, I nod.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I play this game with a friend..."

Yep. I really

didn’t want to hear that.

"We hide wine bottles from each other," Oliver explains, his tone far too casual for how ridiculous that sounds. "Expensive wine too. Last night, that friend finally found mine. Now I have to replace it."

"I see," I reply, struggling to keep my voice neutral. I know exactly what he’s talking about. "That sounds... fun."

"It would be fun if my friend wasn’t so damn good at finding them! At this rate, I’m gonna go broke."

I huff a quiet laugh, then blurt out without thinking, "I’d be more worried she’ll turn into an alcoholic."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I freeze. Damn it. If he catches on that I know his friend is a she, he might start asking questions.

But Oliver only throws his head back in laughter, his eyes gleaming. "Haha, yeah, I think it’s too late for that."

Thank the Goddess. He’s as simple as Samantha. No wonder they’re friends.

"Oh, looks like more people are coming," he notes, glancing toward the approaching figures. Then, turning back to me, he lowers his voice. "Kaya, I hid the bottle here. Don’t tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay," I nod without hesitation. The last thing I need is to be dragged into some underground wine war.

Before I can say anything else, a familiar voice cuts through the crisp morning air.

"Hey there, Olive!"

I flinch slightly, turning just in time to see Samantha practically bounding toward us, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes alight with excitement.

"Kaya, you’re here too!" she exclaims, grinning. "Didn’t expect that—quite early. Good for you!"

"You two already know each other?" Oliver lifts a curious brow, looking between me and Sam.

"Yeah," she nods briefly. "We met last night and bonded over... a drink."

Sam winks at me, and I can practically feel Oliver’s stare burning into the back of my head. I hesitate to meet his gaze. Is he mad? Disappointed?

But instead of scolding me, he simply exhales, then claps his hands in mock approval. "Great job, you two. Especially you, Kaya. Two days here, and you’re already friends with the worst woman in this pack."

"Shut up," Sam snaps, slamming her elbow into his side, but Oliver nimbly dodges, flashing her a playful grin before sticking out his tongue.

"Speaking of the worst woman," Sam adds, her gaze shifting to the left, "Gloria is already here too. That’s weird. She’s usually late."

Curious, I follow her line of sight. A small group of female werewolves moves gracefully across the training grounds, their strides confident, their postures poised. There are four of them today––Josephine is with them too.

I hadn’t gotten a good look at Gloria back in the kitchen, but now that I see her properly, I have to admit—she’s stunning.

She’s tall, as most gammas are, but unlike the lean, sharp-edged warriors that dominate this pack, she carries a soft, effortless elegance. Her curves are accentuated by the snug fit of her black leggings and form-fitting long-sleeved top, hugging her in all the right places.

Her short brown curls frame her face, thick and voluminous, barely reaching the middle of her long, graceful neck. Her caramel-toned skin is flawless, smooth as polished stone, as if she’s never had to deal with something as mundane as pores.

Dark, sculpted brows arch over her deep brown eyes, their intensity amplified by thick lashes. And then there are her lips—full, plush, painted a striking shade of red.

Red. For training.

I can’t help but stare. Who wears lipstick to a morning workout?

Their little group halts not far from us, their gazes sharp and assessing as they throw pointed looks in our direction. A silent challenge lingers in the air, a subtle hostility that prickles against my skin.

Beside me, Samantha lets out a low snarl. "Full war paint, as always," she mutters, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "Who does she even doll herself up for?"

Oliver chuckles under his breath, then casually turns her by the shoulders, nudging his chin toward a spot further down the field. "That’s who."

"Aahhh..." Sam draws out the sound, nodding in sudden understanding. "That explains why she’s here so early. We’re training with the alpha today."

The alpha? My chest tightens, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs like a caged bird.

"Alpha Magnus," Oliver confirms. His voice is calm, but mine is nowhere near steady when I whisper, "Where?"

He gestures subtly, and I follow his gaze.

And there he is.