Adriel's POV
I learned quickly that power is not loud at first.
It doesn't announce itself with thunder or fire or the dramatic crack of the world splitting open. It arrives quietly, like a second heartbeat beneath your own, steady and patient, waiting for you to acknowledge it.
I trained in secret.
Not because Mason would stop me, he wouldn't but because this was something I needed to face alone. Something that belonged to me before it belonged to prophecy, to packs, or to men who thought they had the right to claim me.
The penthouse had become my sanctuary.
Late at night, when the city below softened into a distant glow and Mason slept behind locked doors, I cleared the living room. Furniture pushed aside. Curtains drawn. The world reduced to breath, heartbeat, and intent.
I stood barefoot on the cool marble, eyes closed.
"Slow," I whispered to myself. "Controlled."
The old woman's warning echoed in my mind.
Each time you use your power, it takes something from you.
I didn't know what that meant yet, and that terrified me more than the power itself.
I reached inward.
The wolf rose to meet me not snarling, not wild, but alert. Ready.
Heat spread through my veins, subtle at first, then stronger. My muscles tightened, senses sharpening until I could hear the distant hum of electricity in the walls, the soft tick of the clock in the hallway.
I lifted my hand.
The air bent.
It wasn't visible, not exactly, but I could feel it respond, pressure gathering like invisible silk wrapping around my fingers. I focused, imagining the force moving, shaping itself.
The glass of water on the counter trembled.
Then slid.
Just an inch.
I gasped, breaking concentration. The pressure snapped back, the glass clinking harmlessly against the marble.
A laugh escaped me, shaky and breathless. "Okay. That's new."
I tried again.
This time, I didn't rush. I let the power flow instead of forcing it. Gently rotating and hovering in midair, the glass rose slowly, as if held by invisible hands.
My heart pounded, but not with fear.
With awe.
"I'm not broken," I whispered. "I was never broken."
Encouraged, I tested more.
Speed first.
I crossed the room in a blur, stopping just short of the far wall. My feet barely made a sound. My reflection in the darkened window stared back at me—eyes faintly glowing, posture confident, alive.
Strength next.
I pressed my palms to the wall and pushed.
The marble cracked.
I yanked my hands back, staring at the fractures spreading like veins through stone.
"Too much," I muttered. "Way too much."
I paced, grounding myself, breathing through the adrenaline.
Control mattered more than raw force. That was the difference between a weapon and a monster.
I closed my eyes again, focusing on the bond.
It was still there.
A thin thread, stretched tight, vibrating with tension.
Alex.
The name slipped into my thoughts uninvited, and immediately the thread pulsed harder, pain flaring in my chest.
"No," I hissed. "You don't get to do that."
I focused on the power again, not outward this time, but inward. On the bond itself.
Could I touch it?
The idea terrified me but curiosity won.
I reached.
The sensation was unlike anything I'd felt before. The bond wasn't just emotional. It was woven into something deeper, older. Magic, yes but not mine alone.
I recoiled, gasping as the connection snapped back into place.
Blood trickled from my nose.
I wiped it away with the back of my hand, staring at the crimson smear on my skin.
There's a cost, I remembered.
I didn't stop.
The next test came instinctively.
Defense.
I imagined a shield—not solid, not rigid, but flexible. Something that would move with me, respond to a threat.
The air thickened around my body, pressure wrapping close to my skin. I took a tentative step forward.
A book flew off the shelf.
I flinched, but it bounced harmlessly off the invisible barrier and fell to the floor.
My breath hitched.
I dropped the shield immediately, dizziness washing over me. The room spun, and I sank to my knees, palms pressed to the floor.
"Too fast," I murmured, nausea creeping in. "You're pushing too fast."
I stayed there until the world steadied, until my heartbeat slowed.
When I finally stood, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
And yet… I felt stronger.
More whole.
I showered, letting hot water chase away the ache in my muscles. Something odd happened as steam filled the bathroom.
The mirror fogged.
Then words appeared.
Not written.
Reflected.
You are seen.
My breath caught.
The words vanished as quickly as they came, leaving my reflection staring back at me—wide-eyed, shaken.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
When it did, it dragged me into a dream I couldn't escape.
Snow.
Blood.
A circle of wolves bowing.
And in the center was me.
Crowned in silver light, power radiating from my skin as the world burned at my feet.
I woke with a scream lodged in my throat, heart racing.
The bond flared violently.
Pain slammed into my chest as something or someone pulled hard on the thread connecting us.
Enough hiding.
The voice wasn't mine.
It wasn't Alex's either.
I staggered to my feet, stumbling toward the window.
Below, the city lights flickered.
And far away—too far to see, but not to feel something ancient had turned its attention fully on me.
The crack in the glass spread with a sharp, screaming sound.
I stumbled back as the window bowed inward, the city lights warping as if reality itself was bending to my pulse. My power surged without permission, hot and wild, responding to something I couldn't see.
Then I felt it.
Not Alex.
Not the bond.
Something else had locked onto me.
My mind was pressed up against an ancient presence.
Daughter of the Unbound, it whispered, voice echoing inside my skull. You are ready.
The lights in the penthouse died all at once.
And in the darkness, I realized with terror that I wasn't alone.
As the glass of the window cracked under the pressure of my awakening power, one terrifying truth settled into my bones: I wasn't just training anymore. I was being prepared.