Chapter 8: Kael
She’s late.
Wren Harper walks into the training facility twelve minutes later than yesterday, and I notice before anyone else.
I always notice.
She keeps her head down as she moves through the lobby, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, jaw tight, shoulders curved inward like she’s holding something in.
Something heavy.
Something she’s trying to hide.
I grip my water bottle harder than I should.The plastic creaks.
“Relax, Cap,” one of the rookies mutters behind me.“She’s just late.”
No.
She’s notjustlate.
Wren moved yesterday with purpose—sharp, focused, steady.Today she moves like she’s walking underwater.
It hits me low in my gut.
Something’s wrong.
“Get on the ice,” I snap at the rookie, then stalk toward the hallway where Wren disappears.
She’s in the training room when I reach her—back to me, rummaging through a cabinet, hands trembling so faintly I wouldn’t see it if I wasn’t already tuned to her like a goddamn radar tower.
“Harper.”
She jumps—actually jumps—and whirls around, eyes wide.
Her reaction punches the breath out of me.
