Chapter 3 A Face They Wouldn't Recognize

Two years later

The Crescent Moon Pack grounds bustled with early morning activity-training shouts, clashing weapons, the metallic scent of sweat and steel in the air. Soldiers formed lines, executing drills under the stern gaze of the commanding officers.

Among them, a young female recruit moved silently, swiftly, and with uncanny precision.

No one knew her real name.

She called herself Ryn now.

Short, cropped black hair. Deep scars painted across her back and arms-some real, some drawn. Her silver eyes were hidden beneath dark lenses, and her scent masked with special herbs she'd learned about from a rogue shaman.

No one questioned her. No one recognized her.

Not even Kael.

---

Arya-Ryn-moved through the ranks like shadow and flame. Her body had changed. Her magic had matured. She knew how to suppress her aura, how to act like a regular soldier.

She had earned her place, not through charm, but pure strength.

And she waited. Every day, every drill, every training session-she watched Kael from afar.

He hadn't changed much.

Still cold. Still commanding. Still the Alpha every wolf feared and obeyed.

But she saw the cracks now. The way his jaw clenched when the wind shifted. The way his eyes sometimes searched the trees, like expecting a ghost.

Maybe, on some level, he felt her presence.

But he didn't know. Not yet.

Damon-the pack's Gamma-stood on the edge of the training ground, arms crossed as he observed the soldiers.

He was sharp, older than Kael, and deeply loyal to the Alpha. But also wiser.

And today... something was off.

He watched Ryn closely. She was too fast, too clean with her movements. Not just a trained warrior-something else. Something more.

He narrowed his eyes as she flipped one of the male soldiers to the ground with brutal efficiency.

"That's not ordinary training," he muttered.

Beside him, the Beta chuckled. "She's good. Just a new recruit trying to prove herself."

But Damon didn't respond. He was already walking toward her.

Ryn was toweling off when she sensed him-his aura heavy and alert. She turned just as Damon approached.

"You. What's your name?"

She kept her voice low and gruff. "Ryn."

He tilted his head. "Where'd you train?"

"Rogue camps. Scattered."

"Odd. Most rogues don't have that kind of discipline. Or skill."

She held his gaze, not blinking. "I wasn't most rogues."

Damon's eyes flicked briefly to her covered eyes, then down to the odd way she moved-precise, quiet, predatory.

He didn't push further. But his curiosity had been lit like a fuse.

Elsewhere, Kael stood by the war room window, staring out across the pack lands. That feeling-deep and gnawing-had returned.

Ever since the new recruit arrived.

His wolf stirred at odd times, drawn toward the training field for no reason. His chest felt heavy at night. He hadn't dreamed of Arya in months... until now.

Last night, he saw her eyes-silver, glowing like a storm. She didn't cry in the dream. She smiled as everything around him burned.

He woke up shaking.

He told himself it meant nothing.

But his wolf whispered otherwise.

---

Meanwhile, in the Shadows...

That night, Ryn sat alone in the barracks, staring at the moonlight slanting across the stone floor. She hadn't revealed her true form or her full power.

Not yet.

But she would. When the time was right.

When Kael was vulnerable.

When he needed her the most.

Only then would she let him know:

The mate he tossed aside... was the one thing standing between him and total destruction.

And this time, he wouldn't survive the rejection.

Arya-still known to the pack as Ryn-blended into soldier life with quiet precision. She kept her head down, spoke only when spoken to, and trained just enough to appear capable, but not threatening.

It was surprisingly easy to be invisible... when you'd once been the center of betrayal.

She avoided Damon, the Gamma, whose watchful eyes still lingered too long on her movements. But oddly enough, it was the Beta-Lucas-who began to take notice of her in a different way.

Not with suspicion... but curiosity. The soft kind.

Lucas was Kael's right hand, diplomatic where the Alpha was stern, thoughtful where Kael was cold. He didn't trust easily, but he had a soft spot for underdogs-and Ryn seemed like one.

One afternoon after training, as the sun dipped low and golden light bathed the pack grounds, Lucas approached her.

"You're quieter than most," he said, tossing her a bottle of water.

Arya caught it easily. "Quiet soldiers live longer."

Lucas chuckled. "Fair point. Still, you handle a blade like someone who's been through a war."

"Maybe I have."

He looked at her thoughtfully, but didn't press. "Come with me tomorrow. Patrol with me. I want to see how you handle yourself in the field."

She nodded, careful not to show any reaction. Gaining his trust could be useful.

---

The next day, Arya followed Lucas through the deeper parts of the pack lands areas near the border, but also near the inner territory she hadn't seen since she left.

They passed the stream where she used to play as a pup.

The stone archway she once hid under when she cried the night her parents died.

She didn't speak. Didn't stumble.

Until they reached the old training arena, now overgrown with vines.

Lucas smiled. "Hardly anyone comes here anymore. This used to be the Alpha's favorite place as a boy."

Arya blinked.

"I know," she said softly, before she could stop herself. "I used to-"

Her breath caught. She felt his gaze swing toward her.

"I mean... I read about it. In the history ledgers. Pack records."

Lucas tilted his head. "You read pack history?"

"Every place I've ever lived. I like to know where I'm standing."

He nodded slowly, accepting the lie. "That's rare. Most soldiers only care about muscle and rank."

Arya forced a smile. "I'm not most soldiers."

And that was the truth.

That night, Lucas sat with Kael during dinner, casually mentioning the new recruit.

"She's different," he said. "Sharp. Quiet. Thinks before she speaks. Could be worth watching."

Kael didn't look up from his food. "Keep her in rotation. If she's worth something, we'll see it eventually."

Damon, seated nearby, narrowed his eyes. "You trust too easily, Lucas."

Lucas shrugged. "Or maybe you trust too little."

Arya, eating quietly across the room, felt all three pairs of eyes brush past her at some point.

She didn't flinch.

Later, when she was alone again, she wandered back to that old arena.

The moonlight bathed the stones like it once did years ago. A place where she used to train. Dream. Hope.

She knelt and touched the cool earth, whispering to herself.

"I'm still here. You took everything from me... but I'm still here."

A breeze stirred her hair. In the distance, a wolf howled.

Arya closed her eyes, steadying herself.

Her game was just beginning.

And no one-even Lucas-could know how personal this war would become.

---