Chapter 5: The Vow of Vengeance

Calla’s POV

“Close your eyes,” Darius said, his voice low and steady.

I didn’t move.

"Close your eyes," Darius said in a steady, low voice.

I remained motionless.

He let out a sigh.  “Little wolf, hurry up.  Don't you want to become stronger?

I tightened my jaw.  "Don't refer to me like that."

He smirked angrily, his lips quirking.  "Then demonstrate that you are more than a lost puppy."

I detested how easily he irritated me.  I detested weakness even more, though.

So I shut my eyes.

Since my exile, I hadn't had time to reflect.

The priority had been survival.  Just one breath.  Just one step.  A battle at a time.

But now that I was sitting in Darius's rogue camp by the flickering fire, the truth weighed down on me like a crushing burden.

Raiden had deceived me.

He had cast me aside as if I were nothing after giving me a chilly, unforgiving look in the eyes.

For what purpose?  Lies?  Manipulation?

My heart still hurts to think of him.  However, I buried that hurt deep.

I had been faithful to my pack all my life.  devoted to him.  I was labelled a traitor in exchange, and I was thrown to the wolves.

I was on the verge of passing away.

However, I didn't.

I made it through.

I would now force them to pay.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into Darius's eyes.

"I want retribution."

Something unreadable flickered behind those golden eyes as he studied me for a moment.

Then he smiled slowly.

Darius wasted no time.

He woke me up at the crack of dawn the following day and pulled me out into the clearing.

He cracked his knuckles and said, "We'll start simple."  "I stripped you of your softness."

I scowled.  "I'm not a soft person."

Darius grinned.  "We'll see."

Before I could get ready, he moved—faster than I had anticipated.

A haze of movement.

Then—pain.

I lost air in my lungs as his fist struck my stomach.

I gasped and staggered back.

He continued.

My legs flew out from under me as he lunged.

Dirt flew up around me as I struck the ground hard.

Darius hunched over me, putting one knee to my chest.

"Dead," he whispered.

I was filled with rage.

I gave him a shove, but he remained in place.

He grinned more broadly.   "You still do not think you are soft? ".

I gritted my teeth, not wanting to satisfy him with an answer.

At last, he got up and took a step back.   "Arise. ".

Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I forced myself to stand up.

"Once more, " he said.

Before I could blink, he launched another attack.

And once more.

Darius persisted.

My veins burned with every hit, every fall, every failure.

But I was not going to give up.

Every time he knocked me down, I got up.

I clenched my teeth and endured the pain each time he struck.

The docile, frail omega, Calla, was dead.

I was no longer weak.

I couldn't be.

I had bruises all over me by nightfall, and my body hurt in ways I never imagined.

Darius threw a piece of dried meat and a flask of water at me.  "Not too bad."

I frowned.  Throughout the day, you have been severely beating me.  All you have to say is that?

He smiled.  "Are you not still standing?"

Seldom.

I forced myself to ignore the trembling in my hands and took a slow sip of water.

Leaning against a tree, Darius observed me.  "You're upset," he remarked.

Not a sh*t.

"You're surviving by using that anger."  He cocked his head.  "But survival is insufficient, is it?"

I looked him in the eye.

No.  It wasn't.

I wanted more than to live.

I desired victory.

Justice was what I desired.

I desired retribution.

As though he could read my mind, Darius nodded.  "Then, let's strengthen you to withstand it."

Suddenly, I started my training.

Days went by.

Weeks later.

Darius wasn't kind to me.  He refused to indulge me, let me sleep, or acknowledge my frailty.

He made sure I was aware of my mistakes.

However, I gained knowledge.

I learned how to fight.  How to read an opponent’s movements.  How to anticipate, react, strike back.

I learned how to move without hesitation.  How to sustain a blow and continue.

Gone was the Calla who had flinched before her Alpha.

Calla did not recoil. Didn't think twice.  didn't break.

And I felt powerful for the first time in my life.

However, it was still insufficient.

Not just yet.

After a particularly vicious sparring session one evening, I sat by the fire and gazed into the flames.

Sitting opposite me, Darius was honing a blade.

He paused, then spoke.  "What is the strategy?"

I gave him a quick look.  "What?"

He tested the edge of his knife and said, "You want revenge."  However, how?  Even though you are strong, a single wolf cannot defeat a whole pack.

I let out a slow breath.  "However long it takes, I don't care.  Whatever I have to do, I don't care.  I'll make them all pay one day.

Darius looked at me for a while.

Then he grinned.

"Good," he said, hurling a blade at me.  "Then let's start working."

I grasped the knife, feeling its firm weight in my hand.

I didn't feel lost for the first time since my exile.

I had a goal.

And I would not be stopped by anything.

The weight of the knife grounded me, and it felt cold in my hands.

I moved slowly and deliberately as I ran my fingers over the jagged edge.

It was more than just a weapon.

It was a pledge.

A pledge that I would never again be helpless.

A pledge that I would be back.

And I wouldn't plead for my spot back when I did.

I wouldn't ask for clarification.

I wouldn't think twice.

I would set fire to everything Raiden valued.

Darius got up and gestured for me to come along.  “Little wolf, hurry up.  We haven't finished yet.

Despite my scowl, I stood up and held the knife.  "Where are we heading?"

Without turning around, he said, "You want retribution?"  Then, you must possess knowledge beyond fighting techniques.  You must understand how to win.

The scent of pine and damp earth permeated the air as we walked through the darkened forest. The rogue camp was concealed and hazardous, housing numerous wolves who, like me, had been exterminated.

There would be a short-lived majority.

I wasn't in the majority of them.

In a clearing, Darius led me to encounter three rogue animals who appeared disoriented but not fighting. They were silent and predatory, and moved with precision and care as they trailed each other.

“Observe,” Darius whispered.

Yes, I did.

During the final push, his adversary deviated from the rogue's path and proceeded to twist himself before using a concealed blade. The initial criminal expressed pain and fell to the ground after falling to their death.

I tightened my jaw.

"You cannot achieve victory without a plan and accuracy, so you must always be three steps ahead of your adversary," Darius declared.

Nodding down, I absorbed every move, fluctuation in weight, and reveal-mouthed gaze.

"Once more," Darius commanded the warriors.

This time, I witnessed their obedience.

The prelude to the assault.  The deliberate pause before the blow.

It was a game.

A lethal one.

And I had to get the hang of it if I wanted to defeat Raiden—against the whole Silver Moon Pack.

Darius gave me a quick look.  "Look at it now?"

I let out a slow breath.

"Yes."

My training changed over the next few weeks.

I continued to push my body to its limits and fight every day.  However, Darius now drilled into me something even more significant.

Patience.

He once told me, while we were sitting by the fire, "Rogues don't have the luxury of brute force."  We don't have a military.  There is no pack structure among us.  Our ability to make the most of what we have allows us to survive.

I paid attention.

I gained knowledge.

Body language interpretation.  How to foresee an assault before it occurs.  How to give my opponent the impression that they were ahead, only to take it away at the last minute.

And Darius gave me my first real test when he felt I was ready.

My heart was racing, but I was steady as I followed my target through the trees.

He was an exiled warrior from the Blood Fang Pack, and Darius had picked him carefully.

Powerful, quick, and lethal.

The type of opponent who, should I make a mistake, would not think twice about killing me.

I'd never make one.

I stayed downwind, following Darius's instructions to navigate the shadows.  With his back to the river, the outlaw was sipping his drink.

The ideal time.

But I hesitated for some reason.

Am I capable of doing this?

Could I murder someone?

I gripped the blade more tightly.

There was more than one rogue involved.

I was the subject of this.

About the authority they took away from me when they expelled me.

About never being weak again.

I inhaled, then made a move.

Quick and quiet.

My blade slashed across the rogue's throat before he could even react.

His body struck the floor.

I took a step back, breathing steadily, and observed the life draining from his eyes.

Without hesitation.  I have no regrets.

Darius emerged from the trees, nodding in approval.

“Good,” he said.  "You're ready now."

I glanced down at my blood-stained hands.

No, I wasn't simply prepared.

I was reborn.