Chapter 35: 35: Italy

MAX

The trip from New York to Italy is a long one, and I’m honestly over it. As a wolf, I’m not a fan of planes, and being on one for this long has me feeling restless.

I can pick up the scent of other wolves on this flight, and we share knowing looks whenever one of us gets up to use the restroom. I’m pretty sure most of them are headed to the same destination as me, and they all seem to be around my age.

I sigh and turn my head to check on Derek. He’s sound asleep, headphones on, and his head resting against the window.

Spotting him at the New York airport was a breeze; he looked just like my mother had described him. Apparently, he’s the spitting image of his father, Alpha Damian Cinder of the Half Moon Pack.

Derek has been mostly quiet since we met. At one point, he even apologized for us being “stuck” together, as if my babysitting him was a burden to him and not me.

I turn away from him and grab a magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. The only upside to these long flights to Italy is the ample legroom and the seats that recline further than usual.

I’m thankful for the extra space; it allows me to stretch out my legs comfortably. I flip through the magazine, trying to focus on an article about traveling through the Italian countryside.

I thought it might have some useful tips, considering this is my first time visiting Italy. “Hey man,” a dark-haired werewolf says to me in a hushed tone.

I can tell he’s a werewolf from his scent, even from a row ahead. He’s turned around in his seat, leaning over to get my attention.

I raise an eyebrow at him in response. He nods toward Derek. “So you got stuck with Derek Cinder, huh? I heard about that.”

I’m not interested in discussing this with anyone who isn’t directly involved, so I just shrug and return to my magazine. He clears his throat, and I look up at him again.

“My name is Jameson Snow. I’m from the Phoenix Pack in Arizona. My father is good friends with the alpha from the Denver Pack. We’re allies.”

“But honestly, I think this whole thing is ridiculous. They should just let Derek and Michael sort it out themselves, don’t you think?”

I close the magazine and put it back in the pocket. It’s clear I won’t be left alone long enough to read it.

I don’t want to make any enemies here, especially since I’m already stuck with Derek for who knows how long. I extend my hand to Jameson, and he shakes it firmly before letting go.

“Maximus Moon, Ridge Mountain Pack in Montana. Nice to meet you. I don’t know about you, but I just want to get through this training and go home, without any drama.”

“I hope the two of them can work it out, but it’s not up to me.” Jameson nods in understanding and turns back around in his seat.

I glance to my left and see that Derek has woken up and is looking at me. I can’t read his expression, but he doesn’t seem angry.

Taking that as a sign that he didn’t overhear our conversation, I close my eyes. Maybe I can catch some sleep.

We still have three more hours before we land in Rome. From there, we have to take a train somewhere up North.

We’ll be picked up at a small-town train station and driven to the king’s Estate. I might as well make the most of the time I have to myself.

Once the training starts, I don’t know how much sleep they’ll allow us.

MAX

We’ve arrived in Rome, made our way to the train station, and are now on our way to Milan. That’s where the king’s warriors will pick us up.

We’re settling in for a train ride that will take just over three hours. Many of us have started discussing what lies ahead in our immediate future.

Keeping my charge within my sight, I choose a seat toward the back of the train car. I like to be able to see anyone approaching.

As I stow my bag above me, I watch as Derek heads my way. He nods toward the seat across the aisle from me, indicating he plans to sit there.

~He seems to have accepted his fate,~ I think to myself. ~Now if only I could do the same.~

I get comfortable in my seat and watch as Derek stows his bag in the overhead compartment and slumps into his seat. The attendant does a quick walk-through, double-checking our tickets, and then the train starts moving.

“How do you think this is all going to play out?” Derek asks in a low voice. I raise an eyebrow at him, deciding to engage in his conversation.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs.

“Do you think they’ll make us stick together for the entire training? Do you know anything?”

I consider whether to share what I know with him, knowing that the king could change the plans at any moment. However, some things won’t change, like my individual tests, which are my ticket out of here in two years instead of four.

“I plan to be here for only two years, so they’ll have to figure something out eventually,” I tell him. “Two years?” Derek looks confused.

“Yeah. Two years. I’m testing out of some of the training. I’ve already done it with my father, so the council gave me the option to test my skills without attending certain parts of the training.”

“If I pass, I can go home early,” I explain in a quiet voice, hoping to avoid any eavesdroppers. I don’t like sharing my personal business.

“Hmm. I didn’t know that was an option,” Derek responds, a grimace on his face. “I’m not surprised. I heard your father didn’t exactly follow the rules during his alpha training.”

It’s a bit of a low blow, but I want him to know that it’s common knowledge his father wasn’t exactly top-notch. Derek could prove himself to be a better alpha than his father, Damian.

Until then, I’ll remain neutral, but skeptical. A low growl rumbles from Derek’s chest, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Low blow, man,” he grumbles, turning away from me. I don’t bother responding.

Leaning back, I close my eyes, finding the rhythm of the train soothing to my tired mind. It’s not long before I drift off.

I’m jolted awake three hours later by the screeching of the train’s brakes as we pull into the Milan station. The conductor announces that this is the final stop, and we all grab our bags and shuffle off the train, looking worse for wear.

The fresh air of Northern Italy hits me, and I can’t help but feel more relaxed as I breathe it in. I notice Jameson talking to a small group of werewolves and walk over, with Derek quietly following behind me.

Jameson spots me coming and introduces me to the other alphas. Derek emerges from behind me to introduce himself too.

The others share a knowing glance before shaking his hand. I clear my throat, trying to shift the focus.

“Do we know who’s picking us up? Is there someone we should be looking out for?” I ask. Everyone shrugs and mumbles something about an email we all received.

I quickly pull out my phone and scroll down to the mentioned email. It tells us to wait on the East side of the platform.

Our drivers will arrive in black twelve-passenger vans with tinted windows. Large vehicles like that aren’t common in Italy, so they’ll surely attract attention.

Maybe people will think we’re tourists. None of us look Italian or French.

I’ve done some research and found out that we’re headed to a place called the Italian Alps Countryside. The town is Bardonecchia, not far from the French border.

It wouldn’t be unusual to see Frenchmen in this part of Italy. A short while later, as about fifty of us stand on the East Platform, several black vans pull up, just as described.

We can hear whispers from passengers waiting for the train, curious about the vans and the group of large men on the platform. We definitely stand out, all of us tall and muscular.

We watch as the drivers get out of the vans, joined by armed guards from the passenger side. We take this as our cue to approach them, bags slung over our shoulders.

They quickly direct us to the vans, using a roster in front of them. Some of them have thick Italian accents, making it hard to understand what they’re saying, but somehow, we all get sorted and are in the vans in under five minutes.

These men are efficient and precise, not wasting a single minute. If anyone moves too slowly, they get an armed guard whispering to them.

I make a mental note to ask one of the guys what the guards said. We were all packed into vans, heading west from Milan toward the picturesque Italian Alps.

Bardonecchia was our destination, a two-hour drive away. I couldn’t help but wonder if the king was trying to make us untraceable with all these different stages of the journey.

Maybe he was, but we’d find out soon enough. The guard riding shotgun swiveled around to face us, instructing us to pull out a pen and paper.

Luckily, these items were on the list of things we were told to bring, and mine was conveniently stashed in my front pocket. A few of the guys, Derek included, were grumbling and rummaging through their backpacks.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at Derek’s struggle to locate his notepad. Once everyone was ready, the guard began to explain the basic hierarchy of the Palace.

He told us how to ask for permission to enter and how to address those in authority. Given that we were all alphas, it was going to be a challenge to keep our wolves in check.

He simply stated that this was part of the training—learning to control our wolves instead of letting them control us. I was already familiar with the hierarchy, thanks to countless nights of studying and being quizzed by my father.

The guard noticed my lack of note-taking and called me out. “Why aren’t you taking notes?” He spat.

“You think I’m just talking for the fun of it?” I shook my head.

“No sir, I just don’t need to write down the hierarchy. I know it pretty well already.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Then tell me, who was the werewolf king in 1873?”

“Antonio Morelli. Easy.”

He looked taken aback. “That’s not even part of what you need to know. What’s your name?” He asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

“Maximus Moon, Ridge Mountain Pack.” I watched as he exchanged a knowing glance with the driver, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, Sebastian Moon’s heir.” He didn’t elaborate further, just turned back around in his seat.

I was left wondering how they knew that and why it was significant. Maybe they knew all of our identities and the packs we belonged to.

He didn’t say another word for the rest of the drive, but we were told to pay attention to the roads and the countryside as we journeyed to Bardonecchia. We’d have to navigate some of this terrain on foot at some point.

It was wise to familiarize ourselves with landmarks. Even one could save us time and prevent us from getting lost.

As wolves, we rarely lost our way, but we were in a foreign country, on unfamiliar land. Only time would tell what lay ahead.