Chapter 22. Taste of Spark

The sky over Crescent Ridge was the color of old steel—flat, cold, and sharp around the edges. Wind rustled through the trees lining the training field, carrying with it the faint scent of pine, sweat, and unease.

Aria tightened the wrap around her wrist and stepped onto the padded mat.

She wasn’t nervous.

Not really.

But her pulse was doing that thing again—tapping behind her eyes like a second heartbeat. Her wolf stirred uneasily, pacing, half-growling without sound.

Across the field, students lined up in pairs, prepping for today’s drills. Partner combat. Close-quarters. Controlled aggression.

And of course—of course—Kade was standing dead center, arms crossed, eyes shadowed beneath the hood of his black training jacket.

Her name was called.

“Aria Cross. Kade Locke. Mat three.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

But something in her stomach flipped.

Slowly, she crossed the distance, stepping into the marked circle ju