4 – THE HUNTERS BALL

The great hall glittered with chandeliers and polished marble, silver banners of the Hunters’ Council hanging from the vaulted ceilings. Music swelled, laughter floated, and every head turned when Sophie and Jax entered together.

Whispers trailed in their wake.

The Ice Queen, with Jax Kilsome?

She’s seventeen. Too young. Too cold.

And yet… look at them.

Sophie held her chin high, her hand resting lightly on Jax’s arm. Her mask was flawless, but the pressure of every stare dug in. This was not just a school celebration, this was a stage.

 

And the entire Council had shown up.

 

Sophie clocked them without meaning to. Council rings and crests. Familiar faces she’d seen in secret meetings with her grandfather. A few training briefings and official photographs. Men and women who rarely left the city walls unless something was about to shift. They sat in their designated section, flanked by senior Hunters, as if tonight required an audience of power.

A Ball with politics in the front row. Why?

She didn’t get to wonder long.

They hadn’t taken three steps before Pandora appeared.

Pandora looked like a golden Cinderella, her gown shimmering with threads of gold, hair gleaming in soft waves, every inch a princess built for worship. At her side was Tom, broad-shouldered and clean-cut, his arm looped proudly around hers. Together, they were the golden couple of Wildbourne Academy.

Yet Sophie didn’t miss the way Tom’s eyes flicked toward her. Admiring. Appraising.

Jax noticed too. His blue gaze cooled, not in jealousy, but in warning.

Pandora’s smile sharpened. “Well, well. The Ice Queen arrives. With Jax Kilsome, no less.” Her words dripped honey and venom in equal measure. “Did your grandfather finally decide you’re old enough to be let out past bedtime?”

Sophie only inclined her head fixing Pandora with the ice cold stare she knew she hated.

Pandora’s gaze dropped to Sophie’s hand on Jax’s arm, then lifted again, slow and deliberate. “Be careful,” she murmured, loud enough for the nearest cluster to hear. “You might freeze. She’s not used to being touched like a normal person.”

Jax said nothing, but his jaw was set hard.

Tom shifted, uncomfortable, offering Sophie a respectful nod. “You look nice, Sophie.”

Sophie studied him for a moment, then said, “You’re a nice guy, Tom. You never joined in my bullying. But you never stopped it either.”

Tom’s face colored. His mouth opened, then closed again, as if he couldn’t find an apology that wouldn’t make him look weak.

Pandora laughed, sharp and bright. “Honestly, Tom. Complimenting her? In front of me?” She leaned into him, smiling for the crowd, then turned her head just enough to sting. “Do you have any idea how desperate that makes you look?”

Tom’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, please.” Pandora’s voice turned sweeter, worse for it. “Don’t play the hero. You only noticed her now because she walked in on someone importants arm and suddenly she’s interesting.”

Sophie kept her expression still, but inside, something twisted. Not hurt. Not surprise. Just the familiar, ugly confirmation that Pandora enjoyed the cruelty as much as the attention.

The moment spiraled. Their voices rose, and within breaths the golden couple cracked down the middle. Pandora flung his hand away with a theatrical flick, her words slicing fast enough to make Tom look small in front of everyone. Tom stood stiff, throat working once, before turning and storming off without her.

The whispers doubled.

Pandora watched him go, then turned back to Sophie with a smile that tried to pretend she wasn’t rattled. “Well,” she said lightly, “at least one of us still has a date.”

Jax guided Sophie away from the spectacle before Pandora could set her sights on something worse. “Time for introductions,” he said, voice low.

Sophie let him lead her toward a cluster near the refreshment table. She could feel eyes tracking them from every angle. Not just students. Council eyes. Senior Hunters. People who had never cared about her until she became useful in public.

Two figures waited by the table.

“Johnny,” Jax said, clapping the shoulder of a tall man with a roguish grin, shirt collar undone in blatant disregard for formality. “This one never takes anything seriously, until steel is drawn.”

Johnny grinned at Sophie. “Finally, the infamous Ice Queen. Jax has been talking you up.” His gaze flicked over her with curiosity, not judgment. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to make you laugh before the night’s done.”

Sophie arched a brow. “Good luck.”

Johnny’s grin widened, unbothered. “I love a challenge.”

Next, Jax gestured to a striking woman in a blood-red gown, black hair sleek, expression honed into something sharp and controlled.

 

“Shiloh,” he said simply. “One of the deadliest I know, someone you want at your side when the knives come out.”

Then whispered in Sophie's ear. “Also a complete bitch.”

Shiloh’s eyes flicked over Sophie once. Flat. Clinical.

“She’s a child,” Shiloh said coolly.

Then she turned back to her drink, dismissing Sophie as if she were a passing inconvenience.

Sophie didn’t rise to it. She’d been dismissed before. She’d survived worse. Still, the comment landed with a quiet sting, because it was what the world kept deciding for her: too young to matter, old enough to bleed.

Pandora wasn’t finished, though.

She drifted back into their circle like she belonged there, ignoring Sophie entirely as she laid a manicured hand on Jax’s arm. Possessive. Familiar. A claim made in front of witnesses.

“You shouldn’t waste your evening with her,” Pandora purred. “You deserve better.”

Jax didn’t look down at her hand. He didn’t react the way she wanted him to. His eyes stayed on Sophie, as if Pandora were background noise he’d already grown tired of.

Pandora’s smile twitched.

Before Sophie could even think of a response, Shiloh turned, her words clean and merciless. “He deserves better than trash like you.”

Pandora froze, stunned. For a moment, her perfect mask slipped and something raw flashed underneath, humiliating and bright.

Shiloh’s tone remained flat, final. “Go find your little boyfriend, you're not welcome here.”

Around them, conversations stuttered. The meaning landed, and the room ate it up.

Pandora’s face flushed crimson. Her lips pressed into a furious smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She lifted her chin, rebuilt her composure out of pride and spite, and retreated with as much dignity as she could salvage.

Jax leaned closer to Sophie, smiling, “Told you she’s a bitch.”

Sophie smothered the flicker of a smile. The fact that it almost surfaced at all startled her.

The night swelled with politics and posturing. Sophie watched the Council section again, counting the seats, noting the pairs who spoke in quiet clusters rather than enjoying the music. No one here was purely celebrating. Not the way the younger Hunters believed.

She found herself wondering, again, why the Council cared about a Ball?

And then, near the stroke of eight, the atmosphere shifted.

Lucian entered.

Black-clad and severe, he didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to. His presence alone pulled the air tight. Laughter dulled. People straightened. Even the music seemed to soften, as if the hall itself was listening.

Rufus followed, booming laughter and a goblet in hand, acting like he wasn’t aware of how the room adjusted to Lucian’s every step. Rose drifted gracefully between them, her face composed and unreadable.

Lucian’s eyes found Sophie immediately.

Not warm. Never warm.

He looked her over the way he would assess a weapon he expected to use. Her posture. Her expression. Her proximity to Jax.

His gaze dipped to Sophie’s hand on Jax’s arm, and something dark flickered in his eyes. Possession. Control. The silent reminder that Sophie did not get to choose where she stood.

He stopped in front of her.

“Sophie.” He didn’t say her name like a greeting. He said it like a command.

She lowered her head. “Grandfather.”

His gaze swept over her face, then narrowed. “You’re smiling.”

It wasn’t true but he said it anyway, and Sophie’s body reacted on instinct. Her mouth went still. Her eyes went blank.

Lucian leaned in just enough that only she could hear.

“Do not embarrass me tonight,” he murmured. “Do not flirt. Do not preen. You are not your mother.”

Sophie’s stomach clenched.

He continued, voice quiet and venomous. “She forgot her place and spread her shame across our name. If I see even a hint of that weakness in you, I will correct it.”

Sophie didn’t move. Didn’t breathe wrong. She’d learned how to be still around him, because stillness was the closest thing to safety she’d ever been allowed.

Rufus clapped his hands together as if the tension were entertainment. “My dear Sophie,” he declared, drawing her into the wider circle. “A prodigy among Hunters. Why wait until eighteen? With her excellence, she could join the elite squad now.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, not with pride, but with calculation. “She will join when I decide she is ready.”

Rufus chuckled. “Spoken like a man who wants her sharp and loyal.”

Lucian’s mouth curved, just slightly. It wasn’t a smile. It was a warning disguised as one. “Loyalty is taught.”

Rose’s smile was cool. Indifferent. “She’s young,” she said. “Let us see what she becomes. There is time yet.”

Her gaze lingered on Sophie a moment longer, and for an instant Sophie thought she saw it.

Not kindness or warmth.

Assessment.

Sophie lowered her head, the question echoing in her own chest. What will I do until I’m eighteen? Wait? Obey? Freeze?

Jax’s hand brushed hers, grounding her with a quiet, steady contact that felt dangerously human. “Patience,” he whispered. “Your time will come.”

Sophie didn’t answer. She didn’t know what her time looked like. She only knew what Lucian’s time looked like, and it belonged to him.

Pandora reappeared on the edge of the circle, Penelope fluttering behind her like a decorative shadow. Pandora’s smile returned, polished and sharp.

“How touching,” Pandora said, voice sweet like poison. “The prodigy gets her own escort. Meanwhile, the rest of us are expected to earn attention the old-fashioned way.”

Penelope giggled right on cue, eyes bright. “It’s so romantic,” she breathed, "as if romance were something you could purchase with a gown and an audience."

Pandora’s gaze slid to Sophie. “Watch yourself Sophie. Men like Jax don’t escort girls like you because they’re kind.”

Sophie’s skin prickled, but she kept her expression calm. “And men like Tom don’t stay with women like you because they’re blind,” she said softly.

Pandora’s smile tightened. Her eyes flashed.

Lucian’s gaze cut to Sophie, sharp as punishment.

Sophie felt it instantly. The invisible line she’d stepped over.

Lucian’s hand closed around Sophie’s wrist, just above the bracelet line, fingers firm enough to hurt, gentle enough that no one watching would call it violence. His voice stayed even.

“Excuse us,” he said to the circle, as if he were being courteous.

He drew Sophie half a step aside.

His smile did not reach his eyes. “You will not spar with her using words,” he murmured. “You will not show temper. You will not give them a crack to pry open.”

Sophie swallowed. “Yes, Grandfather.”

His grip tightened briefly, a quiet reminder. “Good.”

Then he released her as if she were an object he’d adjusted.

The music swelled again. Conversation resumed, louder now, hungry with the tension they’d just witnessed.

Sophie’s pulse hammered, but her face stayed blank.

Jax’s gaze lingered on Lucian a beat too long, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Then his attention returned to Sophie, softer, intent.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly.

Sophie didn’t know how to answer that. She had never been asked that in a way that mattered.

“I’m fine,” she said, because it was the safest lie to use.

Jax’s eyes held hers, as if he didn’t believe her, as if he wasn’t willing to look away.

Before he could say anything else, there was an almighty rumble and the floor shook.

A blast shattered the air. Chandeliers swayed violently as crystal rained down. Screams erupted. Smoke billowed through the shattered doors, and through it, shadows moved fast and low.

Sophie knew what they were before anyone said it, she could smell them.

Rogues.

Lucian’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip. “Protect the Council!”

Jax’s hand closed around Sophie’s, firm and sure. “Stay with me.”

The Ball was under attack.