SERAPHINA’S POV
The OTS headquarters was alive before the first streak of sunlight broke the sky.
The hum of voices, the scrape of boots across polished and rough stone, the scent of nerves sharp as copper in the air—all of it churned together into a current that dragged me forward.
Today marked the first day of the LST, the beginning of a series of trials that would push us to our limits, revealing how far each of us had come since stepping into OTS, and ultimately deciding the fate of the alliances and fractures among the packs watching from the stands.
I’d memorized the structure, chanted it back to myself like a mantra.
Twelve teams. Five wolves each. Nine from packs scattered across the continent—Frostbane, Cypress Vale, Seabreeze, Granite Fang, Shadow Claw, Ashveil, Duskbane, Moonfang, Bloodspire. And then, three teams from the OTS itself.
One of them was mine.
I adjusted the hem of my jacket and felt the weight of Lucian’s gift wrap around me like armor. I slipped my hand in my pocket and my fingers curled around Maya’s moonstone.
I drew comfort from my gifts, knowing that even if I wouldn’t see Maya and Lucian during the trials, I would carry a piece of two of my greatest cheerleaders into what felt like my most intense journey yet.
The assembly hall was cavernous, its high ceiling latticed with banners from every participating pack, including customized logos for the three OTS teams.
Wolves clustered in corners, voices low and charged, sizing one another up before the horns even sounded. When I found the placard with my team’s designation, the tightness in my chest loosened.
“Seraphina!”
Judy bounded toward me, her ponytail swinging animatedly behind her. She was grinning so wide her cheeks looked ready to split.
“You’re with me?” I asked, surprised warmth rising inside me.
“Damn right I am.” She nudged my arm with a laugh.
I couldn’t help it; I smiled. In this jungle brimming with tension and agitation, Judy’s familiar face was a tether I hadn’t realized I needed.
“C’mon,” she said, tugging me toward two others who hovered a little apart from the crowd. “Meet the rest of our merry band.”
The woman was plump, her eyes downcast beneath a curtain of chestnut hair. She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, shifting her weight like the floorboards burned her soles.
“This is Talia,” Judy announced.
“Hi,” Talia murmured, so softly I had to lean in to catch it.
“And this is Finn.”
The man beside her gave a small nod. Tall and lean, his posture folded inward like a book unwilling to be read.
Which was ironic, because I remembered seeing him once or twice in the OTS library, tucked away in the corners between shelves.
“It’s good to meet you both,” I said brightly, smiling warmly.
Talia flushed crimson, eyes darting anywhere but me. Finn only gave another tight nod.
Before I could press further, a voice cut through the air like a knife.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
We turned.
Roxy, the last of our team members, stood there, arms crossed, scowl deep enough to bury us all.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d been glued to Jessica’s side in the locker room, more like a shadow than a person.
Now her eyes swept over our group with disdain so vicious it made Talia shrink behind Judy.
“My rotten luck,” Roxy muttered. “Stuck with a pack of weaklings.”
My stomach tightened, but I didn’t speak yet.
“Excuse me?” Judy snapped, squaring up immediately.
Roxy’s lips curled. “Don’t play dumb. This isn’t a team, it’s a death sentence. An Omega parade with an Alpha-born reject thrown in as a pitiful attempt at flavor.”
She shook her head. “This has to be some kind of setup.”
I arched a brow. “How so?”
She folded her arms, her eyes sharp with challenge. “Everyone knows Jessica and I are a team, and we work seamlessly together. Throwing me in with this”—her nose scrunched up—“pathetic mix is an attempt to weaken Jessica’s team.”
She glowered at me. “I wonder for whose benefit.”
I scoffed. “You’re not seriously insinuating that—”
“That’s exactly what I’m insinuating,” she hissed.


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