"You're going to learn to kill," Liam says, circling her. "And you're going to enjoy it."
Iris woke to darkness and the sound of breathing that wasn't her own.
She jerked upright, hand reaching for the knife she now kept under her pillow. The breathing continued, steady and calm, coming from the corner of her room.
"Relax." Liam's voice cut through the dark. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be gone."
Iris's heart hammered against her ribs. She fumbled for the lamp, flooding the room with light. Liam sat in the chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, looking completely at ease. Like breaking into her room in the middle of the night was perfectly normal.
"What are you doing here?"
"Watching you sleep. You twitch. Bad dreams?" He tilted his head, those amber eyes catching the light. "Or memories?"
"Get out."
"No." He stood, moving toward her bed with that predatory grace. "Get dressed. Training starts now."
"It's the middle of the night."
"Enemies don't wait for daylight." He tossed clothes at her. Dark, fitted, tactical. "You have two minutes."
Iris wanted to argue. Wanted to throw him out and go back to sleep. But the look in his eyes told her this wasn't optional. She grabbed the clothes and went to the bathroom to change.
When she emerged, Liam was gone. A note sat on her bed: "Courtyard. Don't be late."
She found him waiting in the training yard, surrounded by weapons. Swords, knives, staffs, things she didn't even have names for. In the moonlight, he looked like something from a nightmare. Beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
"Pick one," he said, gesturing to the weapons.
Iris chose a knife. Simple, practical, close-range. She'd gotten better with blades over the past few weeks.
Liam smiled. "Wrong choice. But you'll learn." He selected nothing, just stood there empty-handed. "Today's lesson is about killing. Not fighting. Not defending. Killing."
"I know how to kill."
"No. You know how to survive. There's a difference." He moved closer, his voice dropping low. "Surviving means doing whatever it takes to stay alive. Killing means taking life deliberately. Efficiently. Without hesitation or remorse."
"I killed during the attack. I—"
"You fought in chaos. Reacted on instinct. That's not the same." Liam circled her slowly. "When you face Derek Winters, it won't be chaos. It'll be deliberate. One-on-one. You'll look him in the eyes and watch the light die. And if you hesitate even for a second, you'll be the one in the ground."
Iris's grip tightened on the knife. "I won't hesitate."
"Prove it." Liam nodded toward the shadows.
Three figures emerged. Wolves, human form, hands bound behind their backs. They looked terrified. Broken. Two men and a woman, all bearing injuries that looked days old.
"Who are they?" Iris asked, dread pooling in her stomach.
"Prisoners. Caught trespassing on my land last week. Silverpine scouts." Liam's voice was casual, like he was discussing the weather. "They were gathering intelligence on my patrols. Mapping my territory. Reporting back to Derek Winters."
Iris stared at the three prisoners. Silverpine. The same pack that had murdered her family. The same wolves who'd stood by while her home burned.
"Kill them," Liam said.
The words hung in the air between them. Simple. Direct. Monstrous.
"What?"
"You heard me. These three work for the pack that slaughtered yours. They're enemies. Threats. And you're going to kill them." He gestured to the prisoners. "Consider it practice."
"They're bound. They can't fight back."
"Exactly. Perfect for a beginner." Liam's smile was sharp. "Derek Winters didn't give your pack a fair fight. He burned them in their sleep. Slaughtered children. So why do these three deserve mercy?"
Iris looked at the prisoners. The woman was crying silently, tears streaming down her face. One of the men kept his eyes on the ground. The other stared at her with something like resignation.
They were going to die anyway. She could see it in Liam's eyes. This wasn't about mercy or justice. This was a test.
"No," Iris said.
Liam's expression didn't change. "No?"
"I won't kill helpless prisoners. That's not justice. That's murder."
"And what your pack suffered wasn't murder? What happened to Marcus, to your mother, to everyone you loved—that was what? An unfortunate accident?"
"That was different!"
"How?" Liam stepped closer, his voice going dangerously soft. "Because they fought back? Because they had a chance? Your pack had no chance, Iris. They were betrayed by people they trusted. At least these three knew the risks when they chose to spy on me."
Iris shook her head. "I can't. I won't."
For a long moment, Liam just stared at her. Then he sighed. "Pity." He turned to Dominic, who'd been standing silent in the shadows. "Kill them."
"Wait—" Iris started.
But Dominic was already moving. Three swift strikes. Three bodies dropping. It was over in seconds. Efficient. Professional. Emotionless.
Iris stared at the corpses, bile rising in her throat.
"You're going to learn to kill," Liam said, circling her slowly. "And you're going to enjoy it. Because that's what it takes to survive in this world. That's what it takes to get revenge."
"I'm not a monster."
"No. You're prey pretending to be a predator." He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "But I can fix that. I can teach you to embrace what you are. What you need to become."
"And what's that?"