The official pack document arrived on my desk at exactly 3 PM, delivered by Maria Rodriguez with shaking hands and worried eyes.

"I’m sorry, darling," she whispered, placing the expensive letterhead in front of me. "I tried to warn you."

The words swam before my eyes as I read the formal language. *Traditional hunt trial required for all new pack members. Sunset tomorrow at Shadow Ridge territory. Failure to appear will result in immediate expulsion and loss of protection.*

My wolf whined with anxiety. Expulsion meant death. Harold had made sure I understood that much.

"What does it really mean?" I asked Maria, but she was already walking away, her maternal instincts warring with pack loyalty.

The next evening, I drove my car to the coordinates Harold had provided. The Shadow Ridge territory was thirty minutes outside the city, hidden in dense forest that probably hadn’t seen human feet in decades. Ancient pines towered overhead like cathedral spires, their branches blocking out most of the fading daylight.

Thirty pack members had already assembled in a natural clearing, their supernatural energy crackling through the air like static electricity. Some faces were familiar from Knight Industries—Rebecca Hayes stood with her arms crossed, Thomas Beck checked his watch impatiently, and Elena Reeves whispered to a group of older wolves I didn’t recognize.

But there were others too. Wolves I’d never seen before, their eyes glowing with predatory interest as they watched me park and walk toward the group.

Harold waited in the center of the clearing, his steel-gray eyes reflecting the last rays of sunlight. He’d changed from his business suit into dark jeans and a black jacket, but his Alpha authority was stronger than ever out here in pack territory.

"Sophie," he said, his voice carrying across the clearing with supernatural resonance. "Thank you for joining us."

Like I had a choice.

"The trial is simple," Harold continued, his tone suggesting it was anything but. "You will shift to your wolf form and track designated prey through the forest. Success proves your hunting ability and commitment to the pack. Failure..."

He didn’t need to finish. Everyone knew what failure meant.

"Any questions?" Harold asked, his smile sharp as winter wind.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. My wolf was already pushing at the edges of my consciousness, sensing danger from every direction.

"Then begin."

The shift hit me like lightning, bones cracking and reshaping as my human form dissolved into something wilder. My wolf shook herself, testing muscles and senses that felt more natural than my human body ever had. The forest exploded into a symphony of scents and sounds—earth, moss, prey trails, and the musky scent of thirty werewolves watching my every move.

Harold held up a large rabbit, its brown fur sleek and its dark eyes wide with terror. The poor thing had no idea it was about to become part of a supernatural trial.

"Your prey," Harold announced, then released the rabbit into the forest. "You have one hour."

The rabbit ran away, its white tail flashing between the trees. I gave it a thirty-second head start before following, my wolf nose immediately picking up its scent trail.

The pack scattered throughout the forest to observe, their supernatural presence pressing against my senses from all directions. Some followed close enough that I could hear their footsteps. Others disappeared entirely, which somehow felt more threatening.

I pushed through dense underbrush, my wolf body moving with an efficiency that surprised me. Branches that would have scratched my human skin barely registered. Fallen logs became easy obstacles to leap over. The forest that had seemed intimidating in daylight became a natural highway for my wolf form.

The rabbit’s scent grew stronger as I navigated rocky terrain that would have been impossible for human feet. My wolf instincts took over completely, reducing the world to scent trails and the burning need to succeed.

Somewhere behind me, I caught Christian’s scent. His wolf was following at a distance, and I could practically feel his tension radiating through the bond between us. Every instinct he had was screaming to protect me, but pack law kept him from interfering.

The rabbit had chosen a clever path, weaving through brambles and over streams that would confuse normal predators. But my wolf senses were sharper than normal, and I could track its route even when the scent trail grew faint.

I was closing in on my prey when everything went wrong.

Three massive wolves emerged from behind the trees, blocking my path forward. Their scents hit me like a physical blow—Marcus Stone’s Brown Wolf, Derek Collins’s Black Wolf, and Travis Murphy’s Gray Wolf. All three were larger than me, all three were pack enforcers, and all three were positioning themselves to attack.

This wasn’t a trial. This was an execution.

My wolf instincts recognized the trap immediately. The rabbit had been irrelevant from the start. Harold had sent his enforcers to eliminate me while making it look like I’d failed the trial.

Marcus Stone’s brown wolf stepped forward, his teeth bared in a snarl that promised violence. Derek Collins circled to my right, his black coat blending with the shadows. Travis Murphy moved to my left, cutting off any escape route.

The scent of their aggression flooded my senses, and my wolf responded with a fury that surprised us both. I wasn’t going to die quietly in the forest. If Harold wanted me dead, his enforcers were going to have to work for it.

Christian’s scent spiked with protective rage somewhere in the distance. I could practically feel his wolf fighting against pack bonds that prevented him from intervening. The mate bond between us crackled with his desperate need to reach me.

But this was my fight.

I lowered into a defensive crouch, my silver-gray fur bristling with challenge. My amber eyes calculated distances and angles, looking for the best strategy against three opponents who outweighed me by at least fifty pounds each.

The enforcers closed in with practiced coordination. Marcus Stone approached from the front, his brown wolf radiating confidence. Derek Collins moved to flank me, his black wolf nearly invisible in the growing shadows. Travis Murphy completed the triangle, his gray wolf positioning for the killing strike.

Around us, the forest had gone silent. Even the pack members who’d been following at a distance seemed to sense that something fundamental had changed. This wasn’t a trial anymore. This was a battle for survival.

My wolf form tensed, every muscle coiled for action. Vanilla and jasmine gave way to something sharper, more dangerous. My scent carried notes of defiance and barely controlled violence that made even the enforcers pause.

I might die in this forest, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The three enforcers exchanged glances, their wolf communication coordinating the final attack. Marcus Stone’s brown wolf crouched lower, preparing to spring. Derek Collins’s black wolf bared fangs that gleamed in the fading light. Travis Murphy’s gray wolf shifted his weight, ready to strike.

Christian’s anguished howl echoed through the forest as his wolf recognized what was about to happen. The sound carried rage, desperation, and the promise of vengeance that made my heart clench with emotion.

But there was no time for sentiment.

The enforcers attacked simultaneously, their coordinated assault designed to end the fight before it could truly begin. Three sets of fangs and claws came at me from different angles, meant to overwhelm and destroy.

My wolf smiled grimly in the face of death.

Time to show them what a real warrior could do.