"Keep trailing my boots through this gravel pit and I’ll ensure the enforcers test the depth of your skull next," I growled, my claws scraping the leather hilt of my training blade as I forced my wolf back down.The low-tier scouts in the isolation sector had scattered the moment I cleared the primary targets, leaving the tactical ring wide open. I didn't care about their silence; my focus belonged exclusively to stabilizing my positioning before the next border raid. But as my boots cleared the perimeter mesh of the training arena, Kieran Foster stepped into the gray light, his calculating gaze pinning me to the chain-link fence."You look like you're hunting an execution squad, Chika," Kieran remarked, his head tilting slightly as he examined my blood-smeared tactical vest.He was wrapped in a sleek, customized black utility uniform that lacked any syndicate insignias, giving his frame an athletic, deceptive agility. He offered a sharp nod toward the iron gate. "We have an unmonitor
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