I spend the rest of the week focusing all my energy on training.

Leyla has devised some daily meditation plan to sort out my newfound wolf senses, but even then, it's tough.

When I was told about the full moon, I expected it to be tough physically, but I didn't expect the mental strength required.

I figure, if I could live with Bianca and her awful daughters, I can do anything. Even transform into a wolf. Hopefully.

My phone plays a jingle, signaling the end of my timer. I'd borrowed a charger from Leyla, figuring I could at least use it for alarms and timers.

"One minute's up," Thomas announces, tapping my phone timer off.

Both Leyla and I drop out of our plank and onto the grass, panting for air.

"How many more planks are you going to force me to do?" I ask between breaths.

Leyla only giggles. "It's fun."

It takes everything in me not to shoot her a glare. As much as I love her sunny personality, the ache in my muscles and sweat on my forehead are putting me into a bad mood.

"We can take a break," Thomas says to my relief. He stands and stretches like a cat in the sun. "Is it just me, or is it warm today?"

He catches Leyla's eye, and she scrambles to her feet. "Oh, yes. Should we...get some lemonade?"

"Excellent idea." Thomas beams and heads for the cabin, passing Blake who sits on the porch steps along the way. "Enjoy your alone time, you two."

"I could go for some lemonade," I interject.

"We'll bring it out for you," Leyla says, winking as she follows Thomas into the cabin.

I lift a brow at their retreating backs. "You're not subtle at all."

They don't answer, only kicking the cabin door shut behind them. I watch them in the window as they giggle together, ambling into the kitchen.

I sigh, grabbing my phone and standing to stretch my arms up towards the sky. My muscles tremble with strain and I roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension in my body.

My eyes land on Blake who watches me from his seat. His hair is still wet from his morning shower, bringing out slight waves that fall over his forehead.

A baggy t-shirt covers his biceps—almost. I can see the shape of his arms bulge out from under his sleeves with each movement.

That silver string between us is there, as always. Over the past week, I've taken the time to marvel over it.

It's funny. Knowing that werewolves and mates exist, somehow this string is the most unbelievable thing about it all.

It shimmers with each movement and fades in the sun's rays, like an illusion or a trick of the light. It's a shame others can't see it, because the way it shines is mesmerizing.

Without thinking, I move towards Blake.

"You don't have to stay here," he says as I take a seat beside him. "You can go inside if you want."

His words surprise me. My immediate reaction is rejection—he doesn't want me here—but I look at him and the rejection fades.

He doesn't meet my eye, even as our knees knock, and he doesn't move away. Somehow, I know he wants me here, as much as I want him here.

There's something innate about it all. Being mates. Like all my life has been leading up to this point, up to meeting him.

If I had to be stabbed all over again, I'd do it, just to be saved by him.

Not that I'd ever admit it out loud.

With his knee pressing against mine, my muscles instantly start to soothe. I exhale deeply, leaning back, letting the magic get to work.

"I'm happy here," I say to him. "Though I don't know why they insist on leaving us like this."

"It gets boring here in the cabin," he says, blunt as ever. "They're just trying to stir something up for entertainment."

I frown. I'd forgotten that Leyla and Thomas have been cooped up in this cabin ever since they turned. I'm surprised they're still on good terms, being stuck with only each other's company.

"Anyway, I don't think they've ever met a mated pair before," Blake adds. "They haven't exactly met many members of the pack."

"Are there many?" I ask. He looks at me and I continue, "Mates in your pack?"

He shakes his head. "A few. It's...not common to find your mate."

"So, we were lucky then," I remark.

"Lucky?" he echoes grimly.

"Well, assuming I survive," I voice both of our thoughts. I glance at him and his brow wrinkles, a shadow coming over his face.

Okay, touchy subject. I get it. Note to self, save the jokes for after the full moon.

I force a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "So, if Leyla and Thomas have never met any mates, how do they know so much about them?"

Blake frowns at me. For a moment, I think I may have killed any chance at a civil conversation, but then his frown melts from his face.

"I taught them," he explains. "And we have a few books on it. Werewolf history and all that."

"Really?" I ask, my eyes lighting up. My days here have been filled with never-ending training and, more recently, meditation. I'd love to get my hands on a book or two.

Besides, the whole world of werewolves is still a mystery for me. If I'm going to be one, I'd love to know more about it.

"Don't get any ideas. You need to focus on your training," Blake says, reading my mind. "We can worry about Werewolves 101 after the full moon."

"Right," I mutter. Training. Just the thought of it makes my muscles stiffen up.

A hand rests on my knee, and I shiver, turning to Blake. He doesn't meet my eye.

"It's been a week and you're still this sore after a workout?" he murmurs.

"A week is not a long time to be training for," I point out. He looks genuinely surprised.

"It's not?" he asks. I shake my head.

"Most people train for months before they see any real change." I pause, realizing how this revelation must sound to him. "Even a few months isn't that long."

"No wonder Leyla had so much trouble. You humans are so weak," he mutters.

"You seriously didn't know?" I laugh, incredulous.

He shrugs. "Not many humans in the pack. Even pack members who haven't shifted yet build muscle easier."

I scoff. "Maybe you need more books on humans and less on werewolves."

Blake exhales sharply through his nose in the closest thing to a laugh I've seen out of him. He pauses, brow furrowing as a thoughtful look crosses over his face. Like he's recalculating.

His grip on my knee tightens a fraction. "We don't have much time left. We need to add more hours to your training."

"More?" I sputter. I didn't think that would be possible.

He nods, turning towards me. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," I reply honestly. Over the past week or so of training, I somewhat adapted. I became used to the muscle pain and the constant hunger. More recently, I'm becoming used to smelling everything in a ten-foot radius.

But being used to it doesn't mean it's not painful. Even now, sitting here with Blake's fingers pressing into my skin, I'm aware of the dull ache in my muscles—all my muscles. Certain parts of my body hurt that I didn't even know could hurt.

"Your chest still hurts," he murmurs.

I blink at him in surprise. My eyes catch on the silver rope that binds us. I'd almost forgotten he could feel my pain. I wonder what else he can feel, especially when our bond is as close as it is now, with his fingers wrapped around my knee.

"Oh," I say, stupidly.

He's not wrong. The pain in my chest is dull and faint, but still there. I've just forgotten about it, what with the incredible ache in my muscles recently.

"It should have been healed by now," he says. His eyes flicker over the bite mark on my neck.

Like the scar on my chest, it's faded, but if you know where to look, you can see the discoloration of the skin. The small marks where his teeth sank into skin.

"Maybe we need another healing session," I tease.

His eyes rip away from mine and I swear his ears turn pink.

"Not funny. There's something slowing your healing," he says, serious as ever.

"Slowing?" I echo. "Like what?"

"I don't know. It could be anything..." He cuts himself off, chin lifting as he stares into the forest.

Footsteps sound in the distance and Blake springs away from me. He staggers to a standing position, just finding his balance as a man traipses his way across the grass.

I smell him immediately. If I thought Blake smelled like a forest, this man must have rolled himself in the soil. It's a mixture of the earth, the trees, and sweat. But unlike Blake, he doesn't smell as pleasant to me.

I frown, staying seated. "Is something wrong?"

"Just stay there," Blake says, stepping in front of me.

The man continues his way over and I realize, this must be a member of the pack. Even in his human form, he's much faster than an average human.

He makes it across the grass field within seconds, like it takes no effort for him, and stops in front of us.

He's tall, about Thomas' height, with dark skin and big eyes. He stands in a way that reminds me of a soldier, with his chest high and back ramrod straight.

"Alpha," the man says, bowing his head slightly. He doesn't even look in my direction.

"What is it?" Blake asks, his voice full of that Alpha authority he had when he addressed the pack. "Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?"

He says it so coldly, I think for a moment that he's accusing the man. He's unfazed, however, by Blake's icy welcome.

"I was," the man says. "The rest of the group is still out there. I came to report to you. We found prints."

My heart skips a beat. Prints in the woods nearby?

Could it be... I shove the thought from my mind. There's no way Bianca could have tracked me all the way out here.

"Prints?" Blake replies, frowning. "Human or wolf?"

"Both. Fresh. Not older than a day."

I almost sigh in relief. Wolf tracks. Definitely not Bianca then. Even if the human footprints were tied to her, how would she possibly be tied to a wolf? It's impossible. I don't even want to think it into existence.

I glance nervously in Blake's direction. He pauses. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed and serious. I'm glad his sharp stare is directed at the man and not me.

"Could be some rogues, wandering into our territory," Blake says. "Which forest did you find these prints in?"

"The east."

"Not far from the highway, then. Did they lead anywhere?"

The man shakes his head. "It looks like they turned back."

"Alright," Blake decides. "Monitor the zone. Increase patrols to half-hourly. If anyone spots anything suspicious, as much as a crushed leaf, report back to me. I'll join tonight's patrols at midnight."

"Yes, sir," the man says. He nods his head low, and Blake waves a hand with all the warmth of an icicle.

"Dismissed."

With that, the man turns and heads back into the woods that he came from. When I think he must be out of earshot, I turn to Blake, arms crossed.

"Who was he?" I ask.

"Him?" Blake asks, seeming surprised by my interest. "Ethan is the closest thing I have to a second in command."

"Second in command? He looks your age."

Blake's expression shifts, like he's unsure if I've just insulted him or complimented him. "I've known him since we were kids. No one else I'd trust to watch over the pack while I'm spending my time here."

I almost laugh at his explanation. "If he's such a trusted friend, why do you treat him like that?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Like a servant?"

Blake's frown deepens. "You don't understand. I'm their Alpha."

"So, you can't be a little friendly? Thank the man? No wonder you've got half the pack showing up here, angry."

"Friendly?" Blake scoffs, stepping back and placing his hands on his hips. "You just—you don't understand what it's like to be the Alpha."

"Oh, and you do? You've only been the Alpha for what? A year now?"

Blake snarls at me. "Who told you?"

Thomas' face flashes in my mind and I look away. "Nobody. It doesn't matter. All I'm saying is, you're not going to be a very liked Alpha if you're treating the whole pack like they're beneath you."

"I'm not—how could you—" He huffs and shakes his head. "Don't you have some planks to get back to?"

"My mother always taught me that kindness is a virtue," I say, ignoring him. I stand, meeting his eye. "Besides, my coaches are still on their break," I point out.

Though in my periphery, I can see how they've gathered at the window—probably intrigued by Ethan's sudden appearance. Thinking about him only makes me more curious.

He'd come all the way here, just to tell Blake about some footprints. That has to mean something.

"These tracks in the woods," I start. "Are they anything to be concerned about?"

"It happens occasionally," Blake says, waving me off. Though, by the way he avoids my eye, I feel like there's something more to it.

Worse, the image of Bianca floats back into my mind.

"He said they were near the highway. Isn't that where the diner was? Where we met? Don't you think that's a little weird?"

"No." He scrutinizes me. "Do you think it's weird?"

I frown, searching for a way to put it casually. "I mean, that man shows up at the diner and chases me into the woods—"

"Right, that man," Blake cuts in. "Why was he chasing you anyway? Seems like it was more trouble than it was worth." He lifts a brow at me, and I warm. It's my turn to avoid his eye now.

A part of me wants to come clean. I should just tell him that my insane stepmother is after me and will stop at nothing to get her hands on me.

But the bigger part of me is terrified to tell him. I don't know how he'll take it. He already barely puts up with my presence. If he finds out about Bianca hunting me down, I'll probably be back out on the street tomorrow.

In the end, the terrified part of me wins.

Besides, it's my problem, not his. I don't need to bother him with—what? The tiniest possibility that Bianca knows I'm here? No. He has enough on his mind with the full moon approaching. He's already housed me, and fed me, and given me a warm bed. He's done enough for me.

It'll be better for us both if he doesn't find out.

"I don't know. I don't understand the mind of a deranged criminal," I say. "I'm just saying it's a big coincidence."

I glance at him, hoping he's buying my excuse. His icy eyes narrow and he steps closer, tilting his head. It's such a cold look, I practically shiver under his stare.

"Where do you expect tracks to show up from, if not a highway used by hundreds of people every day?" Blake asks.

When he puts it like that, I feel like an idiot, drawing connections out of thin air. Being on the run for so long, I've grown paranoid.

He must read the embarrassment on my face because he steps back and circles the grass.

"I don't want you to worry about some meaningless tracks in the woods," he says. "I want you to focus on one thing only for the next few weeks."

"Training," I fill in for him.

"Exactly." He storms past me, up the porch stairs and into the cabin, presumably to wrangle my trainers.

I stand and trudge towards the grass, stretching my spine out as I prepare for another round of whatever Thomas and Leyla have cooked up for me.

If Blake says there's nothing to worry about, then I have no choice but to trust him. He must be the Alpha for a reason, and it sure looks like most of the wolves around here have faith in his orders.

I don't think about that look on Blake's face when Ethan mentioned the tracks.

And I definitely don't think about the fact that he's increased patrols—the fact that he's going out there himself tonight, while I'll be fast asleep.

Something about the whole situation makes me uneasy. My stomach turns at the very thought.

So, I don't think about it. Not at all.