Chapter 4 The Training and the Triangulation

Dax returned at dawn. He brought two cups of steaming black coffee. He set them on the bedside table.

"Five nights remain," Dax stated. "The Claim is on the sixth full moon night. We start training now."

Elara drank the coffee quickly. It was strong. It was exactly what she needed. She felt the warmth spread through her.

"What training?" Elara asked.

"Control. Your dormant wolf is awake. It is fighting. It is Lycian blood. It is dangerous. You need to learn stability. You need to anchor the wolf before I Claim it."

"How?"

Dax walked to the door. He unlocked it. "We are leaving the room. The pack cannot see your fear. They must see your strength."

Elara followed him. Her internal warning system was screaming. Exposing herself to the pack was dangerous. Showing fear was fatal.

They descended the grand staircase. The main hall was now busy. Pack members were eating breakfast. They stopped. They stared at Elara. Their eyes held curiosity and scrutiny. Their expressions were neutral. Their scent was strong. It was earthy. It was musky.

Dax led her directly through the crowd. He did not introduce her. He did not slow down. His hand rested on the small of her back. The touch was a possessive barrier. It silenced the pack's silent questioning.

"The Luna walks without fear," Dax murmured. "Maintain the facade. Their respect is mandatory. Their trust is irrelevant."

They exited the lodge. They walked toward a large, secluded training structure. It was built of concrete and steel.

"This is the conditioning center," Dax explained. "It is soundproof. It is secure. It is where you will learn control."

They entered the structure. The air was sterile. The room was massive. It was padded on all sides. It held heavy bags. It held weight benches. It held a wrestling mat.

"Your first lesson is scent control," Dax said. "The pack uses scent to read loyalty. To read fear. To read deception."

He locked the door behind them.

"Your Lycian blood smells different. It smells like a rival. Your fear amplifies the difference. You must suppress the fear. You must mask the scent."

"How do I mask the scent?"

Dax walked to a bench. He picked up a leather pouch. He tossed it to her. It contained dried herbs and crushed bark.

"Rub this on your pulse points. It is a ritual blend. It is Thorne scent. It will mask the Lycian blood."

Elara obeyed. She crushed the herbs onto her wrists and neck. The scent was sharp. It was complex. It was Dax's scent. The pine. The rock. The cold snow. It was overpowering.

Dax watched her. "Good. Now, we test the control."

He moved close to her. Too close. He leaned in. He inhaled deeply near her neck. He was testing his own scent against her skin.

"The mask holds," Dax stated. "Now, the fight. Your mind is fighting the wolf. It is a tug of war. You must find the center. You must find the balance."

He walked to the center of the mat. "We spar. You do not attack me. You defend yourself. You control your mind. You control your body. You control the shift."

Elara looked at his massive frame. This was not a fair fight. This was conditioning.

"I am human," Elara said. "I am not trained for this."

"Your body remembers. The wolf remembers. The dormant strength is there. You must force it out."

Dax lunged at her. It was not a punch. It was a block. A forceful movement. It was designed to test her reaction.

Elara reacted instantly. Her training from her journalistic security course kicked in. She dropped low. She rolled backward. She avoided the initial contact.

Dax smiled slightly. "Good. The instincts are sharp. Again."

He charged her again. This time faster. He grabbed her arm. He twisted it behind her back. The pain was immediate. Elara cried out.

"Control the reaction," Dax commanded. "Do not let the pain win. Do not let the wolf take the lead. You must dominate it."

He maintained the pressure. Elara felt a searing heat travel up her spine. Her teeth clenched. The world turned red. She wanted to bite. She wanted to tear. The feral instinct surged.

She fought it down. She focused on the pain. She focused on the letter opener in her pocket. Control.

"Stop fighting the feeling," Dax instructed. "Use the feeling. Channel the strength. You are stronger than you think."

Elara pushed against his grip. She twisted her wrist in a counter-rotation. She focused all her energy. The strength was sudden. It was immense. Dax's grip loosened. She broke free. She spun away from him.

Dax was impressed. He walked toward her slowly. "That was the shift starting. The surge. The power. You contained it. Good."

They sparred for two hours. Dax pushed her to her limit. He used her anger. He used her fear. He forced the dormant wolf to surface. He forced her to suppress it. She was exhausted. Her body ached. Her mind was razor sharp.

"Lesson complete," Dax announced. "We return to the room. Rest. Control your pulse. Control your scent. Three more sessions before the Claim."

Dax led Elara back to the Alpha's suite. He locked the door. He left the untouched lunch tray on the floor.

Elara went straight to the safe. She had observed Dax unlock the safe six times now. Twice for the file. Once for the Lycian key. Three times for communication equipment.

She closed her eyes. She focused on the memory. His finger movements were quick. They were efficient. They followed a specific cadence.

CADENCE OBSERVED

* First press: Two short taps.

* Second press: One long hold.

* Third press: Three fast taps.

* Fourth press: One short tap, one long hold.

Elara walked to the safe. She pressed the buttons. The electronic lock beeped. It flashed green. It opened.

She felt a surge of triumph. Dax was arrogant. He used the same code every time. She reached inside. She grabbed the manila envelope. She opened it.

The photograph of her parents. The Lycian execution order. Her suppressed journalist ID. She added two more items. The small, electronic packet. The one he said dampened all signals. The one that held her phone and laptop. And a small, custom-made key Dax kept hidden under the instruction manual.

She closed the safe. She locked it using the same cadence. She returned the envelope and the key to her pocket.

She sat on the bed. She examined the electronic packet. It was seamless. No visible ports. No obvious switches. Dax said it dampened all signals. He was wrong.

She had studied anti-surveillance technology. These packets often used internal signal jamming. The casing itself was the vulnerability. It was meant to be unbreakable.

She took the letter opener from her pocket. She held the small, sharp point against the packet's casing. She found a faint seam near the corner. It was a hairline fracture.

She pushed the opener into the seam. She applied steady, controlled pressure. The metal started to give.

Snap.

The seam broke. The packet sprang open slightly. Inside, she saw the logic board. She saw the phone. She saw the laptop. All dead.

She focused on the logic board. She located the internal jammer chip. It was a small, square component. She used the tip of the letter opener. She gouged the chip. She scraped it away from the board.

She closed the packet. She pressed the seam back together. It looked intact. She held her breath. She pressed the power button on her phone.

The screen remained black.

Dax was right. The jammer was effective. Her heart sank. She had failed the first phase of escape.

Then the phone vibrated. A brief, muffled burst of sound. The screen flickered. It turned on. The screen displayed NO SIGNAL. But it was alive. She had bypassed the jammer. The external signal block remained. The thick walls. The compound shielding.

She needed to get outside. She needed to get the signal.

She focused on the laptop. She opened it. It powered up. She bypassed the password. She opened the map application. She accessed the satellite imagery.

She was looking for a weakness. A blind spot in the perimeter. A way out.

The map showed the compound. The high-powered fence. The guard shacks. The lodge. The Northern Ward. All were covered by a tight, overlapping grid of security cameras.

She zoomed in on the fence line. She found it. A small drainage ditch on the east side. It led under the main fence. The ditch was covered by a thick grate.

She cross-referenced the grate with the camera feeds. The camera was positioned too high. The grate was a blind spot. A flaw in the system.

She needed to move the grate. She needed to get to the ditch. She needed to get out.

She closed the laptop. She put the packet back in the closet. She kept the phone in her pocket. She had the key to the main door. She had the letter opener. She had the escape route.

The escape plan was reckless. It was immediate. It was necessary.

The moon was half-full. It was the third night. Dax was gone. He was at the perimeter. Lycian's scouts were probing the defenses. The compound was on high alert.

Elara knew this was her chance. She was locked in. The guards were focused outward.

She pulled out the small, custom-made key. It was heavy. It was complex. She inserted it into the heavy wooden door lock. It turned. The mechanism clicked. The heavy bolt retracted.

She opened the door silently. She slipped out into the empty hallway. The hall was dark. Only emergency lights were on.

She moved quickly down the grand staircase. She avoided the main hall. She went to the servants' corridor. She was using the floor plan she had memorized from the laptop satellite map.

She reached the back entrance. It was a heavy steel fire door. It had two bolts. One physical. One electronic.

She used the custom key. It bypassed the electronic lock. She turned the physical handle. The door opened.

She was outside. The cold air hit her. The scent of pine and tension was thick.

She moved around the edge of the lodge. She kept to the shadows. She focused on the east side of the compound. The drainage ditch.

She reached the chain-link perimeter fence. The fence was humming. It was electrified. She kept her distance.

She found the drainage ditch. It was narrow. The grate was heavy iron. It was bolted down.

She pulled out the letter opener. The small, sharp tool was useless against the large bolts. She was trapped.

A figure emerged from the shadows near the fence line. He was tall. He was powerfully built. He was a shifter. He was standing directly over the grate. He was staring at her.

"Going somewhere, Luna?" the man asked. His voice was low. It was amused.

He was the Beta. Marcus. The one who had driven the car. He was supposed to be at his post. He was guarding the grate. The weak point was guarded.

Elara moved into an aggressive defensive posture. She had no weapon. She had no escape.

Marcus smiled. "The Alpha predicted your move. He knew you would look for the weak point. He assigned me to watch it."

"You are a loyal dog," Elara sneered.

Marcus shrugged. "I am a professional. The Alpha pays well. The Alpha is stable. Lycian is chaos."

He walked toward her. His movements were fluid. Dangerous. "Come back inside, Luna. Do not make this difficult."

Elara stepped back. She spoke the first thing that came to her mind. "Lycian is a mad dog. Dax keeps him locked up. Your Alpha is a liar."

Marcus stopped. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Dax claims he is cursed. He claims he has the Raging Wolf. He is lying. He keeps Lycian locked in the Northern Ward. Lycian is the mad dog. Not Dax."

Marcus's composure fractured. He looked shocked. "That is a lie. The whole pack knows Dax is the cursed one. He took the title to protect Lycian."

"Read the execution order," Elara commanded. "Lycian signed my parents' death warrant. Dax keeps the proof in the safe. Dax is the protector. Lycian is the killer."

Marcus stood frozen. He was processing the information. The pack lie was essential to their stability. Elara had struck at the foundation.

"Prove it," Marcus demanded.

Elara pulled the manila envelope from her pocket. She threw it at his feet. "Check the Lycian execution order. Check the signature. Then look at the Raging Wolf. Check the scars."

Marcus bent down. He picked up the envelope. He pulled out the crumpled execution order. He read the signature. His eyes widened. Lycian Thorne.

"Why would Dax lie about this?" Marcus asked.

"To save the pack from civil war," Elara explained. "Lycian's followers would have torn the pack apart. Dax made the hard choice. He became the villain. He sacrificed his reputation for stability."

Marcus looked from the paper to the heavy fence. He looked at the shadows. He looked at Elara. His mind was racing.

"The Alpha needs strength. He needs stability. Lycian is chaos." Marcus repeated the words. He was testing the new reality.

"Dax needs help," Elara urged. "Lycian is attacking now. He is trying to steal me. He is trying to destabilize the pack. You must protect the Alpha."

Marcus nodded slowly. He folded the papers. He placed them in his pocket. He made a decision.

"I need to see Lycian. I need to see the Raging Wolf."

"I will help you," Elara said. "But you must open the gate. I need to get out. I need to get help."

"No," Marcus said. "You are the key. You stay with the Alpha. I go to the Northern Ward. I verify the claim. If you are right, the pack must be warned."

He turned away from the fence. He moved toward the main lodge. He was moving with purpose. He was moving to find the truth.

Elara had planted the seed of doubt. She had leaked the critical lie. She had destabilized the Beta. The countdown had begun. She was still locked in. But now the enemy was inside the walls. The pack was fracturing. The war was coming. Five nights remained.