That night, I attended dinner with Carlo and his family, though the conversation drifted around me like fog. I answered questions with half-hearted smiles, but my mind was elsewhere. The roasted chicken and potatoes on my plate tasted like ash, as most meals had for the past month.
Frustration coiled in my stomach, making it hard to swallow. It wasn’t just grief-it was anger, a fury aimed squarely at myself. Of all the people I could blame for my mom’s death, I blamed me the most. Warrior training had been my escape, a way to outrun the guilt, but it hadn’t worked. I came back every day, covered in bruises and feeling no closer to forgiveness.
*’We’ve got two options, Isabella,’* Blue snapped, fed up with my spiral of self-loathing. *’Either you quit and go back to hiding, or you push harder.’*
*”Push harder?”* I scoffed bitterly. *”I’ve been trying-and look where it’s gotten me. Knocked out in training.”*
*’Oh, poor Isabella.’* Blue’s sarcasm stung like a slap. *’You think you’re the first to get knocked down? Please.’*
I tried tuning her out, but her words settled deep, too close to the truth to ignore.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the forest line, I changed into workout clothes Sofia had lent me and made my way downstairs to Carlo’s basement gym. I remembered it from the brief tour he’d given me, though I hadn’t paid much attention to the gleaming weights or hulking machines at the time. Back then, I had no plans to use them.
Halfway down the stairs, I stopped short. Under the bright fluorescent lights, Carlo was shirtless, his fists slamming into a heavy punching bag. Sweat gleamed on his back, and every muscle rippled with each precise movement. My breath hitched as I realized I’d been staring. I turned to leave, but the old wooden stairs groaned under my weight.
“Ella?” Carlo’s voice called out, making me freeze.
I turned slowly, feeling heat creep up my neck as his curious gaze settled on me. “Hey.” I gave him a sheepish smile, as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
A grin spread across his face as he steadied the swaying punching bag. “What brings you down here?”
The old me would have lied-made up some excuse to slink back into the shadows. But I was tired of running, tired of being that girl who hid from her mistakes, who let everyone protect her like she was breakable.
“I came to train,” I admitted, though my voice faltered. I half expected him to laugh.
Instead, Carlo’s grin deepened. “You? Train? No offense, Ella, but you’ve got no muscle.” He gave a playful shrug. “We’ll need to fix that first.”
I bit back a laugh, his teasing oddly comforting. “I don’t have any skill either.”
“Good thing I know what I’m doing.” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “But you can’t tell anyone about this. I’m going to help you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You’d do that for me?”
“More than help,” he said, flashing a grin that made my stomach flutter. “I’m going to train you.”
—
“Couldn’t you get in trouble for this?” I asked skeptically, sitting on one of the padded benches.
Carlo shrugged as he pulled out a pair of hand weights. “Probably. My dad wouldn’t be happy-favoritism and all-but he doesn’t need to know.”
He placed a small weight in my hand and motioned for me to lift it. My arms shook with the effort, and my face burned with embarrassment, but Carlo didn’t comment. Instead, he calmly swapped it for a lighter one.
“There,” he said, his hands lingering just long enough to adjust my form. “Now do thirty reps.”
“Thirty?” I wheezed, feeling my arms burn already.
“By the time we’re done, you’ll be one of our best fighters,” Carlo promised, a wicked grin lighting his face. “You’ll probably hate me, though.”
“I don’t think I could hate you,” I muttered, grimacing as I lifted the weight again. “You’ve all been so good to me.”
Carlo shrugged as if it were no big deal. “It’s nice having someone new around. Most of our warriors leave once they finish training. Sofia, Enrico, and Vito are the only ones who’ve stayed.”
“They leave?” I frowned, a flicker of unease curling through me. “Does that mean I’ll have to leave too-if I ever finish training?”
Carlo gave me a knowing smile. “Oh, you’ll finish. And no, you don’t *have* to leave. You can stay, if you want.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what I wanted. With my mom gone, it was just me. I hadn’t thought much about the future-about what might make me happy. Maybe I’d travel, visit other packs, find something worth holding onto. Or maybe I’d stay here, where I felt safe… even if the emptiness inside me never went away.
As I looked at Carlo, really looked at him, I realized how easy it would be to love him. A life here-at his side-didn’t seem so bad.
*’You’ll never be his Luna,’* Blue whispered, her words soft but sharp. *’That place belongs to his mate.’*
Blue was right, of course. And even if it didn’t, was I really capable of loving someone completely? They said a mate’s love was pure, unmatched-something that couldn’t be replicated. I longed for that kind of love, more than I cared to admit.
“I don’t know what I want,” I whispered honestly, dropping my gaze as something flickered in Carlo’s eyes-something that looked suspiciously like pain.
I hated him for making me feel this way, for making me wish he could be my mate. And I hated myself even more for falling for him.
—
As we moved to another machine, Carlo handed me a barbell and guided me through the movements. The ache in my muscles was fierce, but it gave me a strange sense of accomplishment.
After a few reps, Carlo asked, “That lyric book you always carry-why’s it so important to you?”
“It was my dad’s.” I grunted under the weight of the bar. “He died when I was little. I hit my head around that time, so I don’t remember much about him. But that book… it’s one of the few things I still have.”
“You hit your head?” Carlo chuckled softly. “Must’ve been a hell of a hit to make a werewolf forget.”
“It was.” I shrugged. “I hit it on a rock.”
Carlo shook his head, amused. “A rock gave you memory loss? That’s… something.”
“My dad used to take me to this clearing near our house,” I continued, my voice softening. “We’d sit by the fire and watch the stars. One day, there was a bear. I got scared, I think…”
Carlo’s brow furrowed. “You really can’t remember, can you?”
I sighed, setting the bar down to rub my temples. “No. And after my dad died, the doctors talked to my mom a lot-always in private. I never found out what they told her.”
“Ella?” Carlo’s voice was cautious. “How did your dad die?”
The question made me freeze. I wracked my brain, but the memory stayed frustratingly out of reach. I could see my dad’s face-dark hair, bright green eyes. I could hear his laugh and feel the warmth of his arms. But the moment he died… it was like it had been erased.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my head. “I can’t remember.”