Chapter Four – 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. She wore her mask well, but the weight of every gaze pressed against her like a blade at her back.

They hadn’t taken three steps before Pandora appeared.

She looked like a golden Cinderella—her gown shimmering with threads of gold, hair gleaming in waves, every inch a princess. 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.

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

Jax noticed too, his blue gaze hardening.

Pandora’s smile sharpened. “Well, well. The Ice Queen arrives. With Jax Kilsome, no less.” Her words dripped honey and venom in equal measure.

Sophie only inclined her head. “Pandora.”

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

She studied him for a moment, then said, “You’re a nice guy, Tom. You never joined in. But you never stepped in either.”

His face colored. Before he could reply, Pandora’s voice cut in, shrill with laughter. “Honestly, Tom. Complimenting her? In front of me?”

The moment spiraled. Their voices rose, and within breaths the golden couple shattered. Pandora flung his hand away, her sharp words making him look small, humiliated. Tom stood stiff, his jaw clenched, before turning and walking off without her.

The crowd whispered louder.

Jax guided Sophie away from the spectacle and toward a cluster of Hunters. “Time for introductions,” he said, voice low.

Two figures waited by the refreshment table.

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

Johnny grinned at Sophie. “Finally, the infamous Ice Queen. Jax has been talking you up. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to make you laugh before the night’s done.”

Sophie arched a brow. “Good luck.”

Next, Jax gestured to a striking woman in a blood-red gown, her black hair sleek and her expression sharpened to a razor’s edge. “Shiloh,” he said simply. “One of the deadliest I know.”

Shiloh’s eyes flicked over Sophie once, disinterested. “She’s a child,” she said coolly. Then she turned back to her drink, dismissing her entirely.

Sophie didn’t rise to it. She’d been dismissed before. She’d survived worse.

Pandora wasn’t finished, though. She drifted back into their circle like smoke, ignoring Sophie entirely as she laid a manicured hand on Jax’s arm. “You shouldn’t waste your evening with her,” she purred. “You deserve better.”

Before Sophie could even muster a response, Shiloh turned, her words slicing cleanly. “He deserves better than you.”

Pandora froze, stunned. Shiloh’s tone was flat, final. Around them, conversations stuttered as the meaning landed.

Pandora’s face flushed crimson, her lips pressed into a furious smile as she retreated, defeated for once.

Jax leaned closer to Sophie, murmuring, “Told you. She’s a bitch.”

Sophie smothered the flicker of a smile.

---

The night swelled with politics and posturing. And then, near the stroke of eight, the atmosphere shifted.

Lucian entered, black-clad and severe, his presence alone silencing the crowd. Rufus followed, booming laughter and a goblet in hand, while Rose drifted gracefully between them, her face unreadable.

“My dear Sophie,” Rufus declared, drawing her into the circle. “A prodigy among Hunters! Why wait until eighteen? With her excellence, she could join the squad now.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Rose’s smile was cool, indifferent. “She’s young. 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 calculation there. Indifference, or perhaps something deeper.

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. “Patience,” he whispered. “Your time will come.”

And then—

The floor shook.

A blast shattered the air, the chandeliers swaying violently as shards of crystal rained down. Screams erupted. Smoke billowed through the shattered doors, and through it—shadows moved.

Rogues.

The Ball was under attack.