But instead, after a beat, she shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t add me to some never-ending notification hell. If my phone blows up at 3 a.m., I’ll kill all of you before the next challenge can.”
Finn’s grin was so startled, so openly relieved, that I felt something warm bloom in my chest.
Within minutes, numbers were exchanged, with Judy taking charge of setting everything up. My phone buzzed a few times before I even left the vicinity.
Finn: We need a team name.
Judy: Name suggestions: The Survivors? The Misfits? Trap Dodgers?
Roxy: Trap dodgers make us sound like cowards. Hard pass.
Talia: I like Misfits. It fits us.
Roxy: Makes us sound like we can’t get our act together.
Me: Which is pretty accurate lol
Finn: I was thinking something more…distinguished. Like Echo Squad. You know, to commemorate the labyrinth.
Roxy: Distinguished? What are we, a senior citizens’ bowling team?
Judy: We would look super cute in matching polo shirts with embroidered logos
Roxy: Lovely. Now I have that nauseating visual burned into my brain.
Judy: You’re welcome 😉
I let out a snort as I slid into my car. My smile lingered as my phone continued buzzing in the center console while I drove home.
Watching them argue about something so trivial after everything we’d been through felt strangely…healing. My teammates weren’t just tolerating each other anymore-they were reaching out, connecting, the gap between us shrinking with every grumble and complaint.
Later, lying in bed with the lamp turned low, I scrolled through the stream of chatter.
Finn had already spammed about a dozen ridiculous memes and GIFS, and he’d somehow managed to edit all our faces onto an actual, honest-to-goodness senior citizens’ bowling team.
Judy sent voice notes, laughing so hard she snorted in the middle. Even Talia chimed in with the occasional dry one-liner.
Roxy didn’t contribute much-just a couple of curt comments and emojis-but the fact that she hadn’t left the chat spoke volumes
I set my phone aside finally, my jaw aching with the smile that just wouldn’t fade.
In the span of only a few days, this strange little crew had become…something. Not just allies, but a unit. A team. My team.
The hollow ache of my missing wolf stirred faintly.
Once, the thought of leading anyone had seemed laughable. Unfathomable.
Me, the wolfless girl, the discarded daughter. Yet here I was, watching four others slowly, surely orbit closer to me, like stars pulled into a constellation.
Would having a pack of my own someday feel like this? But amplified a hundredfold?
Would that invisible bond threading between hearts, souls, and instincts give me strength I’d never dreamed of?
The thought made my chest swell. For once, the future didn’t feel like a void of uncertainty waiting to swallow me. It felt like possibility.
Growth.
Sleep claimed me before I could overthink it.
***
Goddess bless whoever came up with the LST schedules.
The following day was another rest day, and I let myself move at my own pace.
I blocked out all the pressures-the anxiety surrounding the last challenge, the lingering weight of the clash with my mother, the subsequent dream about my father, the bout with Celeste, the awkward run-in with Kieran.
I slammed a mental door on anything not in line with a restful, peaceful day.
I spent most of the morning indoors doing mundane chores and lazing about. But as the day went on and familiar restlessness set in, I changed into a comfortable romper, slipped on sandals, and stepped out of my house.
Abandoning my car, I strolled the city streets leisurely, lingering at shop windows, smiling to myself as I imagined Maya and me laughing ourselves to tears as we tried on outrageous items.
By late evening, the sun dipped low, and the streets grew livelier,
Music spilled from open doorways, laughter and clinking glasses drifting into the cooling air.
That was how I found myself pausing outside a bar, neon lights flickering across the cobblestones.
Inside, the hum of conversation was vibrant, electric. I hardly ever visited bars-I already had an aversion to alcohol, not to mention that inebriation was not advisable during the LSTS.
But then, something inside the bar caught my eye-something playing on the large screens mounted on the walls. I smiled and let my curiosity draw me inside.
I chose a stool near the corner of the counter.
“Hi, love,” the bartender said, her pierced lip curling into a customer-friendly smile, “What will it be”
“Uhm…just a Coke with ice, please.”
She nodded. “Not looking for a buzz tonight?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight.”
She shrugged and, a minute later, slid me a glass of Coke, the ice softly clinking against the glass.
I nodded my thanks before taking a sip, letting the chill soothe me.
And then I turned my attention to what had caught my eye. The screens flashed with highlights from yesterday’s Trials.
I watched brief replays of the other teams’ progress through the Labyrinth-saw how quickly and effortlessly the Seabreeze wolves made it to the Echo Altar, winced when the Shadow Claw wolves triggered a haze of fire within the first two minutes, and rolled my eyes as Celeste indeed trailed behind the Frostbane wolves, doing absolutely nothing.
And then, when they replayed Brynjar’s defeat at Judy’s hands, the crowd inside erupted into laughter and cheers as I snickered.
“OTS is making waves this year,” someone at a nearby table said, clinking their glass.
“No kidding,” their companion replied. “This has to be the best LST yet.”
“Love the Arenas. Did you see the Labyrinth run? How that OTS team knocked the Shadow Claw wolves down a peg?”
“Literally my favorite part of the whole thing.”
“Bet they make top rankings. I’m putting money on them.”
I lowered my gaze into my glass, a battle between pride and disbelief tightening my throat.
Strangers, faces I’d never seen before-the majority of them humans-talking about us like we mattered. Like I mattered.
It was all so surreal.
I was still reeling from the sensation when the bartender appeared again, setting down a small, decorated box before me.
“Anniversary event,” she explained with her polite smile in place. “Everyone gets a raffle ticket. Winners get called on stage at the end of the hour for a fun event.”
I shook my head. “I shouldn’t.”
“You sure, hon?” she asked. “You could get lucky.”
I almost laughed. Me, lucky? As if.
Still, what was the harm?
I slipped a hand into the box and curled my fingers around a slip of paper. I scribbled my name on it hall-heartedly before dropping it back in.
Time passed, filled with more chatter, more debate about which teams had promise. Talk about my team came up again and again. Each mention sparked a glow deep inside me.
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