By the time I arrived at the old training grounds—abandoned since the last renovations—the rain had begun to fall in thin, icy sheets.
Cassius stood alone in the center of the clearing, his coat discarded, his black shirt clinging to the hard lines of his body, his sword lying untouched on the ground beside him.
Waiting.
Silent.
Ready.
I walked forward without hesitation, boots crunching on the wet gravel.
Neither of us spoke.
There was no need.
I shrugged off my jacket, letting the cold soak into my skin.
Cassius smiled then—a slow, dangerous thing.
The storm howled around us.
And we shifted.
Bones snapped and realigned.
Claws burst from fingertips.
Fur ripped across flesh like wildfire.
I hit the ground in my wolf form, muscles rippling under slick, dark fur, claws digging into the muddy earth.
Cassius stood opposite me, a massive black wolf — larger than any I had ever fought — his coat gleaming like obsidian, his eyes burning through the rain.
He moved first.
