n flooring as she paced the length of her chamber. She felt a storm of frustration and a strong need for change as she p

e brightly in the shadow of her annoyance. Is it possible? Would she have an opportunity, however remote, to prove herself and break free from

. It was the visage of Alpha Silas's daughter Victoria Nightshade, constrained by her family's expectations. Was it, however, the face of her fate? She felt

imagined the opulent Blackwood halls, the fabled trials, and the opportunity to compete against the nation's most accomplished Alphas. She pictured the admiration, the acknowledgement, and the abilit

, which had changed from one of contempt to one of reluctant pride. She felt a wave of resolve wash over her. This was about all the women in the

nd change. She would change, grow stronger, and earn the opportunity to take charge. She was going to be Victor Night. A point of no return was reached when the decision was taken. The potential profits were much

s of her long black hair, which had served as a source of pride and identification, were collected and kept in her hand. It appeared as though the mirror's reflection was silently observing her change. She grabbed a small silver dagger

that had marked her femininity by binding her chest with rehearsed movements. The pain she was experiencing served as a continual reminder of the lie she was about to commit and the sacrifice she was prepared to make. Instead of the silky silks she was used to wearing, she wore a pair of

ent lines of her face by carefully darkening her eyebrows. She worked on her posture and movement, assuming a more confident swagger and a more manly posture. She practiced the new cadence and tested the new t

ating from inside. She was no longer Alpha Silas's daughter, Victoria Nightshade. She was Victor Night, a competitor, a fighter, a formidable opponent. The dece

ity, Vix moved with a renewed sense of purpose, her movements methodical and accurate. With a more authori

ipped words. "Yes, Alpha,"she snarled, imitating a warrior's respect. "I understand."She worked on her posture and stance, taking on a more aggressive look

level of intensity. Her lips were set in a hard, unforgiving line as she gazed into the mirror, her eyes now

ance, and her hand-to-hand fighting. Her motions were smooth and precise, her strikes quick and lethal, and she moved with a fresh ferocity and agility. She sparred with her brothers for hours on end on the training grounds, putting her abilities to the test against their power and

ere mental, emotional, and spiritual changes in addition to the bodily ones. She had let go of her previous identity, constraints, and expectations. She had accepted a new identity, a new m

se of her bold scheme. The official Blackwood Academy application form was in front of her; its clean parchment stood out sharply against

her true identity, she had decided on a name that was remote from her family. Her hand was now firm and confident, her movements precise and purposeful, and she had writte

a skilled fighter. The last step was the riskiest and most nerve-racking. In