5. Cold water.

Devon watched Olivia train through a challenging werewolf military obstacle course, as he felt a mix of admiration and concern. The course was tough—she leaped over tall barriers, practiced hand-to-hand combat against larger opponents, and sprinted through complex obstacle layouts with barbed wire and smoke. Despite struggling at times, Olivia persisted, showing resilience and determination under the fading daylight.

A servant approached Devon, his footsteps quick but respectful on the training ground's packed dirt. Devon raised a hand, acknowledging the servant's presence, and the man bowed deeply before delivering his news in a hushed tone.

"Alpha Devon," the servant began, "there's something you need to know." He glanced around cautiously before continuing, "Beta Brent was seen speaking with Olivia. They say he's her father."

Devon's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering toward Olivia, who was still navigating an obstacle course with fierce determination. Beta Brent was not just any Beta; he was a constant rival, ambitious and unyielding in his quest for power. The news stirred unease in Devon's chest. Could Olivia be a pawn in her father's game? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"So she's brought my enemies to my doorstep," Devon muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. Olivia, whom he had begun to trust despite her outsider status, now appeared in a different light.

Turning back to the servant, Devon asked sharply, "How certain are you of this?"

The servant met Devon's gaze squarely. "Very certain, Alpha."

"I'll handle it," Devon stated with authority, dismissing the servant who withdrew silently.

"Olivia!" Devon called across the training ground, his voice cutting through the air. Olivia paused mid-stride, chest heaving with exertion, and turned to face him, brows furrowed in question.

"You will continue training until nightfall," Devon instructed firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Olivia's shoulders sagged slightly with fatigue, but she nodded in acknowledgement.

Olivia had sensed trouble the moment she noticed the servant whispering to Devon. His warmth had been replaced by a simmering anger that cut deep. It hurt her to be the cause of his frustration, a feeling she had been all too familiar with since their first encounter that morning.

Hunger gnawed at her stomach; she hadn't eaten all day, save for the meager two spoons of rice Devon had forced upon her. Starvation was not new to her—she has gone days without eating, so she swallowed back her hunger.

Determined to prove herself, Olivia resolved to show Devon and everyone else that she was stronger than he imagined. She was not weak, nor was she stupid or useless. But first, she needed to know what the servant had divulged to Devon. She needed to understand his thoughts.

Gritting her teeth against the pain and exhaustion, Olivia resumed her training. Her muscles screamed in protest, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. Each movement was a struggle; her vision blurred, and darkness threatened to engulf her as she fought through the obstacles. Despite her faltering strength, she pushed herself beyond her limits, until finally, her body gave out.

She collapsed to the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. Time passed in a haze until a shock of cold water roused her back to consciousness. Olivia shivered violently, the chill seeping into her bones as she struggled to comprehend her surroundings.

Opening her eyes slowly, Olivia found herself still on the training ground, Devon standing nearby with a bucket in hand.

His regret for making her suffer so much was evident in a fleeting expression before he handed the bucket to a servant with a blank expression on his face. It stung that his response to finding her unconscious had been to douse her with cold water. Tears welled in Olivia's eyes, a mixture of hurt and frustration.

What had she been expecting anyway? He hates her just like everyone else.

"Get up," Devon commanded, his tone firm but tinged with something she couldn't quite place. With trembling limbs, Olivia managed to rise to her feet, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.

"Come with me," Devon said abruptly, his voice softer now. Without waiting for her response, he turned and began walking away. Olivia hurried to catch up, her body aching and chilled from the night breeze.

Normally, being a werewolf should have granted her resilience against the cold, but Olivia was the weakest among her kind.

"Walk faster!" Devon snapped impatiently, his frustration palpable.

Olivia sighed inwardly, wishing he could see how much she was already pushing herself. She tried to speak, to explain, but her chattering teeth made coherent words impossible.

As Olivia followed Devon to wherever he was taking her, the journey felt long and each step seemed to widen the gap between them. Despite everything that had happened, she found a bit of comfort in the regret she sensed from Devon. It gave her hope that maybe, someday, she could earn more than just his temporary sympathy.

When they arrived at the pack house, Devon led Olivia to one of the older buildings tucked behind the main structure. He gently took her hand, swinging open the door to reveal a modest room. "This is your room," he stated simply.

Olivia surveyed the space, larger than the cramped quarters she had grown accustomed to in her former home. There was a sturdy wardrobe against one wall, and moonlight streamed in through the oversized windows, casting warm beams across the room. It was a stark contrast to the dim, windowless room she had known before.

"You can rest for now. Tomorrow, your training continues," Devon informed her, switching on the lights in the room before taking his leave.

Alone in the room, Olivia wasted no time in preparing a hot bath for herself. As she sank into the soothing water, she felt tension ebb from her muscles, welcoming the brief respite from the day's challenges.

During her bath, she heard soft footsteps approaching her door. Immediately on guard, she scowled at the interruption. Could it be Devon or one of his servants? Quickly drying off and dressing, she waited for a knock that never came. Disappointed and on edge, she settled into bed, pulling the covers around her.

Being herself always felt like a struggle, especially now in this unfamiliar place. She often wished she were different, if not for her own sake then to spare Devon the pain she seemed to bring him.

After a tense silence, a faint knock finally broke the quiet, gentle like a tree branch brushing against a wall. Olivia's heart raced as she cautiously opened the door, only to find her father standing there once more.