Chapter 16

The Trail of blood and iron

Morning came faster than I wanted it to.

The cold light pushed through the high glass windows of the pack house, casting long silver shadows across the dark marble floor. I didn't stay in bed. My muscles were sore and heavy from three days of non-stop training with Zayn, but I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up. The deep purple marks on my throat were already fading thanks to the cooling salve Zayn applied the night before, though my body still felt beat up.

I walked over to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water. Looking in the mirror, my hair was still tightly woven into the double Dutch braids I had put it in for training the night before. A few stray hairs were sticking out, so I quickly tucked them back in and tightened the ends. It saved me time. My hair was out of my face, secure, and ready to go.

On the counter sat fresh gear left specifically for the trial. I pulled off my old clothes and changed into a clean black compression top, sturdy dark cargo pants with reinforced knees, and a fresh pair of black combat boots with thick rubber soles.

By the time heavy footsteps echoed outside my door, I was ready.

Two pack guards stepped into the room. "It's time," one of them said quietly. "The elders are waiting at the border."

I didn't say anything. I just fell into step between them.

We walked out of the main house and headed down toward the edge of the Midnight Pack territory. The morning air was freezing, biting at my skin and smelling sharply of damp dirt and pine trees.

At the edge of the border forest, a huge crowd had already gathered. Hundreds of pack members, warriors, and elders lined the high stone overlook above the boundary line. They were all whispering, watching me with sharp, cold eyes. They expected me to fail.

Standing right by the boundary line, away from the crowd, was Zayn.

As the guards stopped me a few feet from the tree line, Zayn stepped closer. He didn't make a big scene, but his tall frame blocked out the staring eyes of the crowd for a brief second. His golden eyes locked onto mine, looking over my face and my braids, checking that I was grounded.

"They're going to throw everything at you," Zayn said, his voice low, steady, and rough. "Don't look for a fair fight out there. Trust your instincts, keep your eyes open, and don't stop moving."

He reached out, his warm fingers brushing lightly against my shoulder for a fraction of a second, grounding me against the freezing wind.

"I'll be waiting at the finish line," he added quietly. "Go prove them wrong."

I gave him a single, sharp nod. The nervous knot in my stomach settled into cold focus.

Zayn stepped back toward the spectator platform as the Grand Arbiter stepped forward, holding an iron staff and a heavy brass hourglass filled with red sand.

"The three days of preparation are over," the Arbiter announced, his voice carrying over the crowd through the outdoor speakers. "Today begins the first trial of the Midnight Pack. The Trail of Blood and Iron."

He pointed his staff toward the dense, black forest stretching out ahead of us.

"The rules are absolute," the Arbiter continued. "You must run six miles through this unmapped border forest and reach the summit marker at the high mountain crag before the sand runs out. If you step off the boundary line or fail to reach the peak in time, your trial ends here."

He turned the hourglass upside down.

Clang!

A loud horn blasted across the trees.

I exploded forward, my fresh boots digging into the damp soil as I crashed into the thick forest line.

The air inside the woods was freezing, whipping against my face as I picked up speed. The ground was slick with mud, moss, and wet leaves, full of sharp rocks and hidden roots.

“Don't run in a straight line,” Zayn’s voice echoed in my head. “Keep moving, keep guessing.”

Instead of taking the obvious path down the middle, I cut hard to the left, weaving fast through a cluster of thick pine trees and massive granite rocks.

I hadn't even gone half a mile when the real trap sprang.

A heavy branch snapped above me, and the thick smell of damp leather hit my nose a split second before a massive shadow dropped straight out of the high trees, blocking my path completely.

The warrior stood nearly six-foot-four, with broad shoulders and dark tattoos spilling across his arms. I recognized his description instantly from Zayn’s warnings during our late night training session. Kael, one of the Midnight Pack's most dangerous champions, famous for using his sheer mass and heavy wooden staff to crush opponents in one hit.

He came down swinging that heavy wooden staff straight for my chest, aiming to take me out cold.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but my body moved on pure instinct.

I ducked low under the swinging wood, letting it smash violently into a tree trunk beside me with a loud crack. Without stopping to look back or throw a hit, I slid past him on the damp leaves, popped right back onto my feet, and kept sprinting deeper into the trees.

Kael stumbled forward from the force of his missed swing, his heavy frame off balance. I didn't stick around to ask questions.

"She dodged it!" Kael barked into a tactical radio on his shoulder as he pushed himself up. "She's heading for the pass!"

My breathing stayed steady as my eyes scanned every inch of the path ahead. The trees thinned out as the trail turned into a steep, rocky hill called Dead Man’s Pass. It was a tight squeeze between two walls of sharp stone.

As I sprinted up the slope, my eyes caught something strange under a pile of dead leaves, a faint flash of metal. A tripwire.

If I had been running blindly, the snare trap would have snapped up and locked my legs together.

Instead of jumping over it predictably, I planted my left boot hard, kicked off the smooth rock wall to my right, and launched myself sideways. I cleared the hidden wire completely, landing in a low squat on the upper ridge.

The second my boots hit the ground, a second attacker lunged out from behind a rock overhang. She charged straight at my chest with blunt training daggers, aiming to tackle me onto the jagged rocks.

She expected me to panic and retreat.

“Don't fight for space,” Zayn’s voice echoed in my mind. “Use their own weight against them.”

Instead of backing up or trying to block her, I stepped sharply to the side. I caught her reaching wrist, let her own rushing speed pull her past me, and redirected her momentum straight toward the rock face.

She slammed shoulder-first into the stone wall with a hard thud, her daggers clattering onto the ground. I didn't stop to check on her or waste time holding her down. I just kept sprinting up the steep incline, my feet digging into the gravel.

My lungs were burning, and my legs felt heavy, but the peak was right there. Fifty yards away, standing at the very top of the high mountain crag, was the red flag marking the end of the line.

Standing right in front of the flag was the final obstacle. A broad shouldered Alpha-tier guard. He stepped into the narrow path, crossing his arms to block the flag completely.

"Nice try, little wolf," He grunted, charging down the slope like a freight train to throw a heavy shoulder block.

I didn't slow down or try to brace for the hit. I leaned into the sprint.

Right before he reached me, I dropped my hips, dropped low against the slick, wet rock, and slid straight between his wide legs.

His eyes flashed with shock as he hit nothing but empty air. His heavy momentum carried him stumbling four steps down the hill before he could catch his balance.

I popped straight back up onto my feet behind him, sprinted the last three yards, and yanked the red flag off the wooden post.

A heavy silence fell over the mountain.

The Alpha-tier guard turned around slowly, out of breath, looking at me holding the flag high against the morning sky.

Down in the valley, the horn blasted again, echoing through the trees to announce that the trial was officially over.

I stood at the top of the crag, wiping dirt and sweat from my forehead. Down at the base of the overlook, Zayn was standing by the railing, watching me. And as our eyes met across the distance, a small, proud smile touched the corner of his lips.

I had survived the first trial.