Fated to One, Chosen by the Other

Adanna sat hunched on the rough bench outside the training grounds, her shawl pulled around her like armor. Wolves stretched and sparred around the yard, their laughter carrying on the cold morning air. Every grunt, every crack of fists against dummies reminded her she didn't belong.

Imogen plopped down beside her, chewing something that smelled vaguely like mint leaves. She leaned back, eyes squinting at the grey sky.

"You look like shit," Imogen said cheerfully.

Adanna groaned. "Thanks. That's exactly the pep talk I needed."

"No, seriously. Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really." Adanna rubbed her face. "Every time I shut my eyes, I heard that guy-Theron?-calling me weak. Over and over."

Imogen spat her mint stalk onto the dirt. "Theron calls everyone weak. He called me a 'lame wolf with an attitude problem' once."

Adanna raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I told him his beard looked like a wet squirrel."

Adanna couldn't help the laugh that slipped out.

"See?" Imogen nudged her. "Don't let his words stick. You're here now. That's what matters."

Adanna's smile faded. "Being here doesn't mean I'll stay. You heard the council. One mistake and I'm out."

Before Imogen could answer, a mocking voice carried across the yard.

"Hey, rogue!"

Adanna stiffened. Two young wolves stood by the training dummies, both smirking. The taller one was wiry, his arms covered in tattoos, and the other shorter, with a face too smug for his own good.

The tall one cupped his hands around his mouth. "You learn the rules yet? Number one: don't expect us to babysit broken wolves."

Imogen muttered under her breath, "Here we go."

Adanna stood slowly. Her pulse raced, but her voice came out steady. "I'm not broken."

The short one barked out a laugh. "No wolf? No fangs? That's like being a car without wheels. You'll just sit there and rust."

Adanna's jaw clenched. "Better no wheels than a head full of hot air."

Imogen choked back a laugh.

The tall one's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening step forward. "Careful, rogue. I could break you before breakfast."

Adanna's throat tightened, but she forced herself not to step back.

"Then you'd answer to me," a calm, cold voice cut in.

The yard stilled.

Leander strode toward them, silver hair bright against the grey morning, his storm-grey eyes fixed on the two young wolves. His presence was enough to make the air shift.

"Out," he said simply.

The taller wolf bristled. "We were just-"

"I said out." Leander's voice was quiet, but it carried like thunder.

The pair grumbled but slunk off, muttering curses under their breath.

Adanna exhaled sharply, her shoulders sagging. "You didn't have to do that."

Leander's gaze lingered on her. "You're Crescent Moon now. I don't let anyone in my pack get cornered."

Adanna frowned. "I thought you weren't exactly pack."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes-pain, maybe? But it was gone too fast.

"Meet me here tomorrow. Dawn."

Adanna blinked. "Why?"

"Training."

Her laugh was short and bitter. "You want to train me? I don't even have a wolf."

"You said you're not broken." His tone was even, unreadable. "Prove it."

Imogen leaned close, whispering loud enough for Leander to hear. "Told you. Teeth."

Adanna shot her a look, but Imogen only grinned wider.

Leander turned and walked off, leaving no room for argument.

Adanna groaned, sinking back onto the bench. "What the hell did I just sign up for?"

Imogen smirked. "Oh, you're screwed. But at least it'll be entertaining."

The next morning, the training yard was empty except for Leander. He stood in the center, arms folded, watching her approach.

Adanna dragged her feet across the dirt. "I thought dawn meant... like, actual daylight. Not this."

"It's the best time," he said flatly. "Quiet. Focused."

"Focused on what? Getting humiliated?"

His lips twitched-almost a smile. "That depends on how fast you learn."

Adanna scowled. "You know, for someone who barely talks, you sure like giving orders."

Leander didn't respond. He tossed her a wooden staff. She fumbled to catch it, nearly smacking herself in the face.

"Seriously?" she muttered.

"Grip it tighter," he said. "Feet apart. Shoulders loose."

Adanna tried to mimic his stance, awkward and stiff.

He circled her, correcting her posture with a tap to her elbow, a nudge to her foot. Every touch sent a strange jolt through her chest.

"Better," he said. "Now swing."

She swung clumsily. The staff slipped from her sweaty palms and clattered to the ground.

Imogen's laugh echoed from the fence where she'd perched. "Smooth, very smooth."

Adanna glared. "You're not helping!"

Leander didn't move to pick up the staff. He just stared. "Again."

Adanna sighed, grabbing it off the ground. "Fine. But don't expect miracles."

The next swing was steadier. The next, even sharper. Soon her arms ached, sweat dripping down her back, but she kept going.

Leander finally raised a hand. "Enough."

Adanna dropped the staff, panting. "That... was hell."

"That was warm-up," he said.

She groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

Imogen clapped sarcastically. "Don't worry, rogue. By next week, you'll only look half-dead."

Adanna shot her a weak middle finger before collapsing onto the bench.

Leander stood over her, his eyes unreadable. "You lasted longer than I thought."

Adanna blinked. "Was that... a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it," he said, turning away.

Imogen leaned down, whispering, "Translation: he doesn't hate you. Yet."

Adanna buried her face in her hands, groaning. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

That night, Adanna sat in her small room, muscles sore, arms aching. But despite the pain, she caught herself smiling faintly.

For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel completely useless.

And for the first time in years, someone had looked at her-not with pity, not with disgust-but with the expectation that she could be more.

She didn't know whether to be grateful... or terrified.

************************************

The next morning, Adanna limped into the training yard. Every muscle screamed in protest. She barely slept-again.

Leander was already there, stretching like he'd been born out of stone and discipline. No sweat, no strain. Just calm.

"You're late," he said.

"It's five minutes," Adanna shot back, wincing as she bent to tie her boots.

"Five minutes can cost you your life."

"Or five minutes could mean coffee," she muttered.

His brows lifted. "Do you want coffee or survival?"

Adanna straightened. "Both. Preferably."

Imogen's laugh rang from the fence where she sat again. "Gods, you two are like an old married couple already."

"Shut up," Adanna and Leander snapped in unison.

Imogen grinned. "See? Married couple."

Leander ignored her and tossed Adanna a smaller staff. "Today, we test reaction time."

Adanna groaned. "Can't we test, like... sitting? I'd be amazing at that."

"No."

She raised the staff half-heartedly. "Fine. But if I pass out, you're carrying me."

Leander's eyes darkened with something unreadable. "You won't pass out."

He lunged.

Adanna yelped, barely lifting her staff in time. The force rattled through her arms, nearly knocking her over.

"Keep your balance," he barked.

"I'm trying!" She stumbled back, swinging wildly.

He struck again. Their staffs cracked together, and her wrists burned.

"Too stiff," he said. "You're fighting the staff instead of using it."

"Oh, well, forgive me for not being a staff master!"

"Less mouth, more focus."

Adanna scowled. "You're really bad at pep talks, you know that?"

He didn't answer, only pressed harder. Each strike forced her back until her heels hit the fence.

"Cornered," he said coldly. "Now what?"

Adanna's breath came hard. She looked left, right-no space. Her staff trembled.

"Think," he pushed. "What's your way out?"

"I... I don't know!"

"Yes, you do." His voice softened, barely. "Stop thinking about what you can't do. Use what you can."

His words stung because they made sense. Her grip tightened. With a sharp yell, she twisted, ducking under his staff, and jabbed the end of hers into his ribs.

The strike landed.

Leander froze. His storm-grey eyes flicked down, then back up. For a breathless second, something unreadable flashed between them.

Adanna's mouth fell open. "Did I-did I actually hit you?"

Imogen clapped so loud it startled them both. "Hell yes, rogue! I think you just made the great Leander grunt."

Leander straightened, brushing dirt off his shirt. His face was unreadable, but his voice was low. "Not bad."

Adanna blinked. "Wait-was that another compliment?"

He ignored her, turning away.

Imogen cackled. "Oh, he's blushing."

"I am not." His voice was sharper than usual, and he stalked off toward the weapon rack.

Adanna leaned on her staff, panting, still stunned. "I actually hit him..."

Imogen slid off the fence, grinning. "Yep. You've officially survived round two. And trust me, not many can say that."

Adanna let out a shaky laugh, part pride, part disbelief.

For the first time since Hyde Park, she felt a flicker of something that wasn't anger or despair. It was small, fragile... but it was there.

Later that evening, Adanna sat on the back steps of the safehouse, the cool air easing her sore arms. Imogen plopped beside her with a loaf of bread and tore it in half.

"You know," Imogen said around a mouthful, "I've never seen Leander look at anyone like that."

Adanna frowned. "Like what?"

"Like you're not a burden. Like you're... worth the effort."

Adanna shifted uncomfortably. "He doesn't even like me."

Imogen snorted. "Leander doesn't like anyone. Trust me. That man has the emotional range of a rock. But he respects you. That's rarer."

Adanna tore at the bread, chewing slowly. "Respect doesn't change the fact that I'm still wolf-less."

Imogen's expression softened. "Maybe. Or maybe your wolf's just waiting for the right moment. You ever think of that?"

Adanna's throat tightened. "Waiting twenty years? That's one patient wolf."

Imogen nudged her shoulder. "Patience usually means power."

Adanna stared into the dark trees, heart heavy but a little less hollow.

The next morning, the pattern repeated. Training. Bruises. Banter. Leander's relentless orders, her stubborn retorts, Imogen's heckling.

But beneath it, something began to shift.

When Adanna stumbled, Leander caught her before she hit the ground. His hands were steady, firm, lingering a second too long.

When she landed a hit, his eyes lit-not with annoyance, but with something sharper. Something almost like pride.

And when she cursed him under her breath, she thought she saw the ghost of a smile.

By the end of the week, Adanna was exhausted but alive. She sat on the bench, sweat dripping, chest heaving. Leander stood across from her, arms folded, watching.

"You're improving," he said.

Adanna gave a tired laugh. "There it is. The legendary third compliment."

He raised a brow. "Don't push your luck."

Imogen shouted from the fence, "Adanna, write this down! Historic day-Leander admits someone else isn't completely useless!"

Adanna laughed until her ribs ached.

For the first time, laughter didn't feel foreign.

For the first time, the shadows around her weren't as heavy.

And though she'd never admit it aloud, she realized something terrifying:

She was starting to trust him.