I was a bit late leaving the manor.
Just as I was returning to my room to grab a few things, I caught sight of Alpha Varg in the courtyard, immersed in his daily training.
In the freezing cold of Alberta, the air hung like a cloud of silver dust in the courtyard. Varg rose like a massive shadow against the snow, steam radiating from his bare, muscular body. Every time he lifted those iron weights, I could hear the primal rhythm echoing from his chest. Sweat droplets glided down his skin like freshly poured diamonds, vanishing into the whiteness of the snow. But his eyes... those ember-fire eyes were fixed on his "freak"—on me—as I walked toward the depths of the forest, clutching my cracked phone.
"Where are you going?" Varg roared. The sound of the weights crashing to the ground, combined with his voice, felt like an avalanche was about to strike the mountain.
Without slowing my pace, I looked back at him over my shoulder with pure hatred.
