13

Max sat in the dimly lit apartment, wrapping fresh bandages around his ribs. His body was healing, but slower than he would've liked. His mind, however, was elsewhere. The Silver Cross Order was still out there, the hunters wouldn't stop coming, and Kenneth… Kenneth was evolving into something none of them fully understood. A Core Wolf. An anomaly.

Max exhaled sharply. If they wanted to stand a chance, they needed a plan.

He had already been strategizing—thinking through potential allies, identifying safehouses, considering whether to track down old contacts who might help. The Silver Cross Order wasn't just a problem for them; it was a problem for every werewolf still alive. And then there was Kenneth's uncontrolled power. If they didn't get a handle on it, someone else would.

Max leaned back on the couch, flipping through a set of old photographs laid out before him. Each one showed a different face—former allies, potential recruits, wolves who had either left their packs or had been forced into hiding because of the hunters. He ran his fingers over a particularly worn photo of an older man, his sharp gaze filled with wisdom and experience. "Luca," Max muttered under his breath. "If anyone knows how to train a Core Wolf, it's you."

Another face caught his attention—Tasha, a brutal but loyal warrior, someone who could hold her own against entire packs. Then there was Viktor, a strategist, cold and calculated. They needed numbers, but more importantly, they needed people who could fight.

Max sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I were them… where would I be?"

His thoughts were cut short by a sudden shift in the air.

The scent was subtle but unmistakable—an unfamiliar presence.

Max turned swiftly, already on his feet, his muscles tensed despite the pain. The shadows in the room weren't quite right. Something was off.

Then, from the corner of his vision, he saw movement.

--

A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping forward with smooth, measured grace. They wore a hood pulled low over their face, but Max didn't need to see their features to know—this person wasn't ordinary.

They had been watching Kenneth. And now, they had come for him.

"Not exactly polite to sneak into someone's place," Max muttered, shifting into a defensive stance. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure didn't respond. Instead, they moved. Fast.

Max barely had time to react before the intruder lunged. He twisted, narrowly dodging the first strike, but the follow-up came just as quickly. A powerful kick to the ribs. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his side, but Max gritted his teeth and retaliated with a sharp punch aimed at their center mass. The figure twisted out of the way effortlessly, their movements calculated and controlled.

Max narrowed his eyes. Whoever this was, they weren't just skilled. They were trained.

He feinted left, then swung hard with his right. His fist connected, knocking the hooded figure back a few steps. For a brief second, the hood slipped just enough to reveal a pair of piercing, glowing blue eyes.

Max's breath caught.

Blue?

The realization struck him hard.

An Alpha?

The figure didn't hesitate. They came at him again, this time faster and with greater precision. Max barely managed to block a flurry of strikes, his arms aching from the sheer force of the attacks. He countered with a low kick, aiming to trip the intruder, but they leaped back gracefully, landing with barely a sound.

"Who sent you?" Max growled, wiping a streak of blood from his lip. "Silver Cross? Another pack?"

The figure tilted their head slightly, as if amused. "No one sent me," came a woman's voice—calm, unwavering.

Max clenched his fists. "Then why are you here?"

The woman stepped forward, her stance shifting slightly. "To test you."

Max lunged at her, faster this time, his fist aiming straight for her jaw. She dodged, twisting her body at the last moment, but Max had anticipated the move. He grabbed her wrist mid-spin, yanking her toward him. She reacted instantly, slamming her knee into his stomach. He grunted but didn't let go.

"Did you turn Kenneth?" Max demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

For the first time, the woman hesitated. "Yes."

Max's grip tightened. "Did you know he was going to turn into this?"

Her blue eyes flashed. "No."

"Why?" Max snarled. "What the hell is he?"

"A war is coming," she said simply, her voice like ice. "Kenneth is a catalyst."

Max's heart pounded. "A catalyst for what?"

But she didn't answer. Instead, she twisted her arm out of his grasp and drove her palm into his chest, sending him staggering back. Before he could recover, she moved like lightning, her body a blur. Max barely blocked her next attack—a devastating roundhouse kick aimed at his head. Their fight escalated, each strike faster, more brutal. Max's mind raced as he fought—she was strong, but she wasn't fighting to kill him. She was testing him. Seeing what he was capable of.

He gritted his teeth. If she wanted a test, he would give her one.

Max feigned exhaustion, letting his guard drop slightly. The woman saw the opening and took it, darting in for a finishing blow. But Max was ready. He sidestepped at the last moment, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back, slamming her into the wall. His breath was ragged, his body screaming in protest, but he held firm.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled into her ear.

The woman didn't struggle. Instead, she smirked. "Someone who doesn't want to see Kenneth fall into the wrong hands."

Max scowled. "That doesn't answer anything."

"It's all you're getting," she replied. Then, without warning, she shifted, breaking his hold with a swift movement. She flipped backward, landing lightly on the windowsill.

Max lunged forward, but she was already gone, vanishing into the night like a shadow.

A single whisper lingered in the air before she disappeared completely:

Not yet.

Max stood frozen, his breathing heavy. He reached up, touching the fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

An Alpha had come. And she had been testing him.

This fight wasn't over.

It was just beginning.