30. Amber

After failing to capture Lucas,and the craziness of the “field test” with the shadow souls in Central Park, training today is more intense than ever.

I’ve been sparring with Cassandra for well over an hour, and her movements are a blur of precision and power that I can barely keep up with. Every strike of her sword against my daggers sends a shockwave through my arms, a reminder of the decades of experience she has over me, and I’m weakening by the minute.

“You’re getting sloppy.” She steps back to give me a moment. “You’re letting your frustration cloud your judgment. You need to focus.”

She’s right, and I hate it. The more we spar, the more I feel myself slipping, making mistakes I wouldn’t usually make. It’s not just the physical exhaustion. It’s the mental drain—the nagging thought of yesterday’s failure with Lucas, the gradual loss of my magic, the continued silence from Morgan and Sunneva, and the nightly visits from the Shadow Lord in my dreams.

But Cassandra’s right. I need to focus.

I’ve been through a lot recently, but I won’t let it break me.

“Again,” I demand, tightening my grip on my daggers.

Cassandra gives me an approving nod.

Without another word, she attacks.

I meet her with renewed energy, pushing back my exhaustion and focusing on the movements, on the flow of the fight.

For a moment, I’m there, matching her move for move.

Eventually, my energy wanes, and my reactions slow.

Then, from the sidelines, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Duck!” Abigail yells, and I obey, feeling Cassandra’s sword slice through the air above my head.

We spar with protective cases on our blades to stop them from giving us any serious injuries, but even so, that would have hurt.

Cassandra’s surprised enough by the interruption that I’m able to recover and take a few more stabs at her. I get close a few times, but she’s so impossibly fast that I’m unable to land any blows.

“Step left!” Abigail calls out again.

Instantly, I shift my weight, narrowly avoiding another of Cassandra’s calculated strikes.

But Cassandra is relentless. Her experience isn’t just in her movements—it’s in her anticipation, her ability to read and adapt to her opponent’s next move before it happens.

She’s wearing me down.

I want to use some of my remaining magic, but I resist.

I can’t rely on it. Not when I don’t know how long it will be until it’s barely there at all.

“To the right!” Abigail yells, and I sidestep, Cassandra’s sword meeting nothing but air.

I want to glance at Abigail to acknowledge my appreciation, but one second of not focusing on Cassandra will be the second she needs to send me to the ground.

We keep at it for another few minutes. I’m wearing down again, but every time I’m about to take a major blow, Abigail calls out another warning.

“Enough!” Cassandra halts, and she lowers her sword, her eyes narrowing as she turns to Abigail. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Abigail steps forward, her stance defiant, yet respectful. “I was helping,” she says. “Offering guidance and support. Trying to help Amber learn and improve.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing but kindness, compassion, and even a bit of love in them.

I can’t help feeling like she was doing for me what she would have done for her daughter, Ruby.

“Thank you,” I tell her, since her advice did help.

Some of the other vampires stop what they’re doing, clearly listening in on the conflict between the three of us.

“We’re all on the same side here,” Abigail says. “And, when we’re out there facing true danger, we’re always stronger together.”

“I think you’ve forgotten that we’re not wolves,” Cassandra growls, prowling toward Abigail in a feline way, like a tiger about to pounce. “We’re vampires. We fight as individuals—not as a pack.”

Abigail flinches, as if Cassandra’s words opened a wound she was trying to keep closed.

Because Abigail, of course, hasn’t been a vampire for long. She was born a shifter. And I’m sure in her heart, a part of her will always feel like a shifter.

The surrounding vampires move away from Abigail, glaring at her, daring her to speak out against the clan that took her in when she had nowhere else to go. They outnumber her, and they know it.

Abigail takes a deep breath, and her shoulders drop slightly, admitting defeat. “You’re right,” she says to Cassandra, and when she continues, it’s strained and robotic. “You’re Amber’s trainer—not me. I shouldn’t have interfered. It won’t happen again.”

The apology is forced, and I’m pretty sure we all know it.

But then, Cassandra’s stance softens, the intensity in her eyes dimming. “Make sure of it,” she says. “Because training Amber to depend on her own skills is crucial. She won’t always have someone to call out directions, and always relying on others when things get hard is a sure way to get killed out there.”

She’s right, and we all know it.

After all, if I couldn’t hold my own, I wouldn’t have survived that fight with Viktor in the subway. Yes, it’s nice to have people fighting with me, but I don’t want to be dependent on it to stay alive.

Abigail nods, and then she turns to me, offering a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve got this, Amber,” she says. “And know that when we’re out there, we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Her eyes burn fiercely with love, and I get the impression again that she’s protecting and supporting me as much as she would with her own daughter.

“I know,” I tell her. “You had my back in the park yesterday, and I know you will in the future. I know all of you will.”

I glance around at the vampires surrounding us, and much to my surprise, they don’t sneer at me or make any moves against me.

It’s almost like they respect me.

Wow. Weeks ago, I thought I’d be a permanent outsider around here. I never dreamed they’d take me in as one of their own.

Yet, somehow, here we are. And it doesn’t feel unnatural in the slightest.

With the situation seemingly handled, Cassandra brings her sword back out and refocuses on me. “Let’s continue,” she says. “Ready?”

I grip my daggers tight, prepared for her to strike at any moment. “Ready.”

She lunges forward, and the tension from the confrontation with Abigail fades into the background as I focus on Cassandra’s sword, predicting her strikes and countering with my daggers. My muscles burn, and my breath is strained. But I keep going, refusing to give up, no matter how determined Cassandra is to push me down.

We go like that for hours.

Eventually—finally—it’s time to wrap up for the day.

As the gym empties, I catch up to Abigail. She’s gathering her things in a corner, at a slower pace than the others.

“Abigail.” I walk over to her, and she looks up, giving me a wary, but hopeful, smile. “Thank you for today. I know Cassandra didn’t like it, but your coaching helped.”

“I’m glad,” she replies. “But Cassandra did have a good point. You might not always have one of us there to help you.”

“I know,” I say, thinking back again to the confrontation with Viktor in the subway. “Still, I appreciate that you were looking out for me.”

“I did what I felt was right. You remind me so much of Ruby, so I guess, in a way, helping you feels like I’m looking out for her, too.” She picks up her stuff and looks around—by now, all the vampires have left the gym.

“Thank you,” I repeat. “That means a lot.”

There’s a pause as I shuffle my feet, unsure how to approach the next topic.

From the way she waits patiently, I can tell she knows I have more to say.

“As you know, we went to the Guardians for help the other day,” I start, since it’s common knowledge by now. “I met Jax and Autumn.”

“Oh.” She stiffens at their names, immediately on edge.

“Jax asked after you,” I continue. “But it wasn’t genuine. It was more like he was trying to goad me. I asked Damien why, but he told me that’s your story to share—if you want to.”

She pauses, and I know if she refuses to tell me more, I’m not going to push.

She’ll tell me when she’s ready. If she’s ever ready.

Still, it never hurts to ask.

And, as I wait, I hope she trusts me enough to give me some answers.