Chapter 3

The locker room emptied quickly after practice, everyone eager to escape Coach Miller's grueling session. My muscles ached from Sage's not-so-accidental collisions throughout training. I winced as I peeled off my sweat-soaked jersey, a large bruise already forming where her shoulder had slammed into mine.

I thought I was alone until I heard the soft click of the locker room door. Looking up, I found Sage leaning against the wall, still in her practice gear, watching me with that predatory smile.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Something about her presence made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Just a little captain-to-captain chat," she said, pushing off the wall and walking toward me with a grace that seemed almost inhuman. "Or should I say, future captain to current captain?"

I squared my shoulders despite the pain. "I earned my position, Sage. One practice doesn't change that."

She laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. "Earned? Is that what you think?" She moved closer, invading my personal space. "Let me make something perfectly clear, Carter. You're playing a game you don't even understand, with limitations you can't even comprehend."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your pathetic human limitations," she sneered, her eyes flashing with something dangerous. "You should step down now, before you embarrass yourself further. Let someone more... worthy take over."

Human limitations? What was she talking about? The way she said "human" made it sound like she considered herself something else entirely.

"I'm not stepping down," I said firmly, though my heart was racing. "And I don't know what game you're playing, but—"

"Game?" She stepped even closer, and I found myself backing against the lockers. "This is no game, Lila. This is about natural order. About strength. About what you are versus what I am."

For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—a strange amber glow that couldn't be just a trick of the light.

"You're crazy," I whispered, trying to slide away from her.

Sage's hand shot out, slamming against the locker beside my head, the metal denting slightly under the impact. My eyes widened. No one should be that strong.

"Crazy?" she whispered, her face inches from mine. "No. Just superior in every way that matters. Think about it, Carter. For your own good."

With one last contemptuous look, she turned and walked out, leaving me shaking against the lockers, staring at the small dent her hand had left in the metal.

---

I couldn't shake Sage's words as I headed to the field for afternoon training the next day. The joint session with the boys' team was Coach Miller's new initiative—supposedly to "elevate our competitive edge" before the state championship qualifiers.

As I set up the practice cones, I noticed Noah watching me from across the field. He stood apart from his teammates, his intense gaze following my movements. Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of his attention, like a physical touch against my skin.

I pretended not to notice, focusing on my task, but when I glanced up again, he was walking toward me with purposeful strides.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"I've got it," I replied, more curtly than I intended. After yesterday's confrontation with Sage, I was on edge.

Noah studied my face, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem tense. Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I said automatically, then sighed. "Just team stuff."

"Sage Blackwood?" he asked, surprising me with his perception.

I looked up at him sharply. "How did you—"

"I've seen how she plays," he said simply. "And how she looks at you."

Something in his tone made me wonder if he knew more than he was letting on. Before I could question him further, Coach Miller blew her whistle, calling us to attention.

"Today we're working on finishing drills," she announced. "Wolfe, since you've got the best shooting technique on the boys' team, you'll demonstrate with Carter."

My stomach flipped as Noah nodded and gestured for me to join him in front of the goal. The rest of both teams formed a semicircle around us, including Sage, whose eyes narrowed as Noah positioned himself beside me.

"The key is in the approach angle," Noah explained to the group, but his eyes were on me. "May I?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He moved behind me, his chest almost touching my back as he gently positioned my shoulders.

"You want to open your body to the goal," he said, his breath warm against my ear. His hands moved to my hips, adjusting my stance, and I felt heat rush to my face. "Plant your non-kicking foot here."

His touch was light but firm, professional yet somehow intimate. As he guided me through the motion, his body shadowing mine, I became hyperaware of every point where we almost touched, of his scent—that same wild, earthy smell I'd noticed in our first encounter.

"Now," he murmured, "when you strike, follow through completely." His hand covered mine as we pantomimed the perfect shot together.

When he finally stepped away, I felt strangely bereft. I glanced up to find Sage staring at us, her expression murderous.

"Let's see it for real," Coach Miller called.

Noah set the ball up for me, our fingers brushing as he passed it. "You've got this," he said quietly, with a confidence that seemed to flow into me.

I took a deep breath, approached the ball using Noah's technique, and struck it cleanly. The ball rocketed into the top corner of the net with more power than I'd ever generated before.

A cheer went up from my teammates, and Noah gave me a smile that made my heart skip. "Perfect," he said, and somehow I knew he wasn't just talking about the shot.

---

During the scrimmage that followed, something strange happened. As Sage charged toward me with the ball, I felt a surge of energy unlike anything I'd experienced before. My vision seemed to sharpen, my reflexes quicken. I easily intercepted her pass, leaving her momentarily stunned.

It happened again when I sprinted down the wing—I was faster than I'd ever been, outrunning defenders who usually caught me easily. When I collided with a midfielder from the boys' team, he was the one who stumbled back, not me.

"What's gotten into you today, Carter?" Coach Miller called, clearly impressed. "Whatever it is, bottle it!"

I caught Noah watching me with an unreadable expression—something between pride and concern. Sage, on the other hand, looked increasingly agitated with each display of my newfound strength and speed.

When practice ended, I lingered on the field, testing this strange new energy by taking shots from distance. Each one flew with power and accuracy I'd never possessed before.

"Enjoying your little adrenaline rush?"

I turned to find Sage standing behind me, her face twisted in a sneer.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, suddenly wary.

"You think you're special because you had one good practice?" She laughed coldly. "You have no idea what real power is."

Before I could respond, she stepped closer, her eyes suddenly changing color—shifting from hazel to a brilliant amber that glowed in the fading daylight.

"This is power," she whispered, and to my horror, I watched as her fingernails lengthened into sharp, curved claws.

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. "What—what are you?"

"What you'll never be," she said, her voice deeper, rougher. "I'm a werewolf, Lila. Born to strength and speed you pathetic humans can only dream of." She flexed her claws. "And let me make one thing clear—a weak human like you could never satisfy an Alpha's needs. Noah deserves better than some fragile human girl playing at being strong."

I stared at her transformed hand, unable to process what I was seeing. Werewolves weren't real. They couldn't be. Yet the evidence was right in front of me, impossible to deny.

"You're insane," I whispered, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.

Sage smiled, her teeth suddenly looking sharper than they should. "Am I? Or are you just afraid to admit that you're out of your depth?" She retracted her claws slowly, her eyes returning to normal. "Stay away from Noah, Lila. He belongs in our world, not yours."

As she walked away, leaving me frozen on the field, I couldn't shake the feeling that the world as I knew it had just shattered—and that the strange energy I'd felt during practice might mean I was caught in the middle of something far more dangerous than a simple rivalry.