Page 7

7

SONYA

S onya stood near the back of the council clearing, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight.

The scent of old woodsmoke and leather filled the air as the pack’s leadership wrapped up another two-hour circle jerk about border shifts and rogue sightings that, as usual, didn’t mean a damn thing.

It was all posturing—more about dominance than decisions.

She shifted her weight onto one boot, eyeing the figures around the firepit.

Elders, enforcers, and Roman.

Always Roman, at the center of it all, like the sun no one dared turn their back to.

He was all sharp edges tonight.

Black-on-black tailored coat, jaw set tight, dark eyes scanning everyone like they were prey.

When the meeting broke, he didn’t look at anyone else.

Just her.

“Sonya,” he said, voice cool and clipped.

“Walk with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

She didn’t argue.

She just fell into step beside him, their boots crunching over brittle pine needles as they moved down the narrow path that led toward the deeper woods.

“I asked for progress,” Roman said after a long silence.

“And I’m still waiting.”

She didn’t look at him.

“I told you. I’m working on it.”

“You’ve been enrolled with him over a week. You’ve shared two classes, spent hours alone, and still no sign of activation? No instinct? No shift in his energy?”

“He’s dormant,” she said.

“If there’s something in him, it’s buried deep.”

Roman stopped walking.

She felt it before she saw it—his presence halting like a wall.

She turned, slow.

“You’ve always been clever,” he said softly.

“But don’t confuse that with being untouchable.”

Sonya met his gaze.

“I’m doing what you asked.”

His eyes searched hers.

“You’re lying.”

Her spine stiffened, but she didn’t blink.

“I’m telling you what I know.”

Roman stepped closer, crowding her space.

“You’ve grown soft.”

“I’ve grown smart,” she snapped.

“You sent me on a recon job, not a fucking assassination. I’m not going to push him and risk everything. I have to build trust and see what he knows and what I can find out. You want him alive, don’t you? That’s what you said.”

“I want him obedient.”

“Well,” she said, turning on her heel, “then maybe you should’ve sent someone you could control.”

She didn’t get far.

Roman’s hand clamped around her arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to warn.

“You forget who you’re speaking to.”

“No,” she said, ice-blue eyes locked on his.

“I remember. I just stopped caring.”

His nostrils flared.

But after a moment, he let her go.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sonya.”

She stepped back.

“You know, people keep saying that. Maybe I’m not playing a game.”

When she returned to the main clearing, she could feel the stares.

Packmates lingered in groups—some laughing, some watching.

All aware.

And then came the hiss of a voice she’d rather ignore.

“Well, look who survived another romantic walk with the king himself.”

Sonya didn’t even need to turn.

She knew that voice.

Lena.

The beta’s daughter and Roman’s longest-standing fangirl.

Her laugh was low, bitter-sweet, and always just a little too loud.

“You know,” Lena continued, flipping her honey-blonde hair over one shoulder, “if the Council really wanted results, they would’ve sent someone with actual charm.”

Sonya stopped walking.

Slowly turned. “You mean like you?”

Lena’s lips curled.

“At least I wouldn’t have wasted a week playing coffee dates with some half-blood runt. We all know why Roman gave you the assignment.”

The others behind her—two younger females, both barely out of training—snickered.

Sonya didn’t know their names.

Didn’t care.

She took a step forward, boots sinking into the soft soil.

“You think this mission’s about charm? You think Roman gave this to me because he wants someone warm in his bed?” Sonya’s voice didn’t rise, but it carried sharp.

“He gave it to me because he knows I won’t flinch when it gets ugly. He gave it to me because I’m better than you.”

Lena’s smile cracked.

Sonya leaned in, voice low.

“You want his attention so bad, Lena? Be my guest. Just remember, the spotlight gets hot.”

She walked away, heart hammering, pulse wild.

And still… all she could think about was Landon.

Not Roman. Not the pack.

Not the prophecy.

Just Landon’s stupid, earnest grin.

The way he winced when she cleaned his wounds.

How his voice softened when he asked questions no one else dared to.

She reached the edge of the woods, found her Jeep, and leaned against the driver’s door, staring up at the sky.

Stars burned overhead.

Cold and distant.

Everything in her life was fire and ice—Roman’s control, her parents’ expectations, the pack’s damn rules.

But Landon?

He was warmth.

And the more she felt it, the more dangerous he became.

Not to the pack.

To her.

Because for the first time in her life, Sonya didn’t want to be loyal.

She wanted to be free.