CHAPTER 7 - PACK INSTINCTS

Serena's POV (as interpreted by Kael)

I never felt right using the word "ritual." At Dravenhold, it had nothing to do with candles, chants,

and sworn oaths. Here, it meant teeth bared, blood spilled, and shattered pride until one wolf

stood tall enough to claim its dominance.

This morning, the circle for the dominance trials glistened with rain water, while countless boots

churned the dirt floor. Three names were called, and mine was the last.

"Kael Draven."

The courtyard noise in the dorms escalated the moment I entered the ring. Everyone loved

these rituals-praise moments-in their ideas, almost like watching wolves tear each other apart

was camaraderie.

In front of me, three second-years prowled into place. Bigger. Older. Smirks reflected on their

mouths. One knuckled his fist, loud enough so that it echoed. Another tore his disdainful gaze

over me, as if I were not worth the effort of him even wasting claws on.

"What are the rules?" I kept my voice steady.

A grin full of teeth appeared on the instructor's face. "Stay standing. That would be all."

The gong rang.

They came for me as one.

The first hit my chest, carried on his own speed. I was borne aloft; just before the twist came, I

ducked below his arm. My fist shot toward his ribs, hard and fast, but I pulled the punch. Too

hard, too unforgiving, too Serena.

Don't give yourself away.

The second wolf got a grip on my shoulder from behind, the claws scraping skin. Heat rushed

through my arm. I hissed and spun, my booted foot smashing into his knee. He staggered, but

remained on his feet. The third was well on me, fists swinging.

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

They pushed even harder, circling like vultures, forcing me to move faster than any boy my size

should. Fire burned in my lungs with the effort of limping, stumbling, bleeding, doing anything to

look less than what I was.

But the years of instinct begged me to give in. Move like Serena, not Kael. Fight like I had been

taught to before this disguise.

A solid hit across my jaw. Stars exploded behind my eyes. A second hit to my ribs, where

bruises had already begun to form from the Maze. All my strength gave way beneath me, and

for a terrifying heartbeat, the spell almost faltered.

Smaller frame. Softer face. A flicker of who I truly was.

No. Not now.

I clenched my teeth and forced the magic back into place, but the third wolf saw the slip in my

stance. His grin widened. "Weakling."

He lunged, claws outstretched for my throat.

Time froze for me. If he struck true, the spell would break. My secret would split open for all to

see right there in front of the entire academy.

Then Darius moved.

The shift was minute, but it was there. He stepped out impassively from the crowd. His voice cut

through the turmoil, cool and low.

"Careful."

The wolf didn’t quite recover, glancing up instinctively. That flash of hesitation allowed me to

twist, grab his wrist, and use his momentum to throw him into the dirt. The gasps from the circle

were audible.

The other two kept coming without pause. One slammed shoulders into me; the other went low

for my legs. Pain flared white as claws knifed through my side, blood warming the inside of my

tunic. I hit the ground hard, palms shredding through the mix of rain and sweat.

The weave danced again. My breathing was shallow, too quick, each exhalation a threat to the

illusory guise.

One more hit. One more cut, and they’ll see me.

The wolf raised his fist overhead, claws reflecting the light. I braced for the strike that would win

it all for him—

And it never came.

A wall of presence crashed over the ring with an all-melting energy that froze every movement

in its place. Darius Blackthorn hadn't stepped into the fight, but it was as if he had. His

thunderous presence demanded obedience without ever uttering a word.

The wolf froze, fist still hanging in the air. His eyes darted to Darius, and for one trembling

second, he lowered his hand.

The instructor barked, "Match over!"

Cheers, jeers and, worst of all, whispers erupted in the stands.

"Did Blackthorn just shield him?"

"Why would he care about Kael?"

"Maybe they're.....together?"

That word spread poison through the air.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the sting at my side, the warmth of my blood slicking my skin. I

kept the mask of Kael plastered on my face, jaw set, eyes eerie flat. Anything to appear

unruffled.

But when I looked across the ring to Darius, my breath caught. His expression gave

nothing—storm-gray eyes unreadable, arms crossed as if he had not just saved me from

exposure.

The instructor dismissed us as the crowd wandered off in noisy clusters. I left quickly, ignoring

the way whispers followed me like smoke.

"Blackthorn's lapdog."

"Never saw him take interest before..."

"They must be close."

Close. If only they knew how close the truth had come to being discovered.

My legs trembled with every step as I got back to the dorm halls. I slipped into my shared room

and closed the door, leaning against it while the illusion flickered beneath my skin. For a blink,

my reflection in the narrow mirror rippled: Serena, followed quickly by Kael.

Blood smeared where the claw marks made deep cuts on my side. I pressed my trembling

fingers against the wound. The magic was thin and fragile.

Had it not been for Darius...

I sank onto the bed's edge, head between my hands. Tomorrow, the very next day, someone

would challenge me. Tomorrow, the academy would demand more blood, more dominance,

more strength.

One slip would ruin me.

Not when suspicions were already rising. Not when Darius Blackthorn was casting his shadow

so close next to mine.

"You all right?" Darius asked as he breezed in and sat beside me.

"Yeah..." I hissed as he rubbed the ointment on my wound.

"Good. Now about the whole couple thing..."He let the sentence hang, and I squirmed in bed.

The Hide That Binds

Gossip swirled around me like that second skin which, once added to a body, could never be

torn off without the most extreme of methods. Each corridor I walked, every training ground I

stepped into, told its tale in half-whispered tones as those of other wolves.

Darius and Kael.

Closer than brothers.

Protecting him…the favorite?

Or something else?

The words were all phrased differently, and each willing punctured into my ribs. Wolves thrive

on their hierarchy, dominance, and strength. We hear the word soft or weakness, and someone

is done in the heartbeat. I struggled not only to keep my cover but also to balance the

dangerous thread of attention that kept me tied with Darius Blackthorn.

Of course, the instructors grabbed their chance.

"Blackthorn. Kael."

Instructor Rovan's voice carried very clearly across the training yard, having apparently been

rehearsed for the moment all morning. "You have been paired together for the survival task."

The crowd rippled with the shock and expectation. I didn't need to hear the words shout

outward; I could feel them in the air.

"Perfect."

"Let us see whether they snuggle up out there."

"Darius will break him in half."

My jaw clenched, but I kept that cocky half-smile of Kael plastered on

.

The rules were simple: two wolves, one night in the Wraithwood Wilds. Survive the night; find

and kill one of the marked shadowbeasts that roamed the woods; bring its claw back as proof.

But then Rovan called us up and threw the added twist.

"You two will not, unlike the others, be working as a single unit. You will survive separately."

Gasps and laughs swept through the crowd. I stilled and tried to keep my expression neutral.

Darius had flicked an unreadable gaze toward me, but I caught the slightest twitch in his jaw.

Separate meant no buffer. Little excuse for staying close when things got bad. No reason for

him shielding me.

Exactly what they wanted.

By dusk we were dumped in the Wraithwood, canopy devouring the last streaks of sunlight, and

the air thick with earth and moss and predator scents. The hunters weren't alone among the

wolves.

The other pairs were swallowed by the trees, each self-supporting unit-the Darius and I could

opposite ways as instructed even though every nerve in my body screamed against it. My wolf

pressed hard at the edges of the spell, whining, restless.

Calm, begging silently. If you break, I break.

Hours passed in fragments of noise-rustling underbrush, the screech of a night hawk, the distant

snarl of another wolf parting company with prey. I kept going, light on my feet; Kael's form

behind me like armor. But the deeper I went, the more the wild seeped in, and the more

dangerous it was holding me back.

That's when it happened.

A shadowbeast lunged out of the thicket-black-furred, bone-spined-backed creature, glowing

eyes. It was bigger than I had imagined, easily twice my size. I twisted away from its snapping

jaws, claws raking for my throat. Too close. Too fast.

Instinct screamed at me to use my real strength. To move with the speed my body remembered.

But the spell tugged me down, weighed me with Kael's frame.

My grip slipped. Its teeth grazed my shoulder, and I knew I was seconds from being gutted.

And then-steel.

A blade whistled through the air, embedding into the beast's flank. The creature howled, reeling

back. And from the trees, Darius emerged.

"Careless," he said flatly, striding past me. His sword once, looked faintly under the moonlight,

yanked free of the beast by him. "You'd have been torn apart."

Heat rushed into my face, a tangled mess of fury and something I couldn't name. "I didn't ask for

help," I snapped.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes cool and cutting. "You didn't need to."

Before I could retort, he finished the beast with a swift strike, and with practiced ease, carved

the claw loose. He threw it at me. "Yours."

That token landed in my hands, yet warm with blood. My heart thudded violently. He had saved

me-and given me the kill.

For what?

Later, when the night bites cold enough to gnaw through my cloak, I crouched, trying to warm

my body against the tree trunk. Apparently, she-wolves burned hotter, and any slip into Kael's

spell might not go unnoticed.

Rustle. I jerked my head up-Darius again, stepping into the faint moonlight. He carried no fire,

no cloak of his own. Just him, calm as the night itself.

Wordless, he dropped a rolled bundle at my side. A cloak.

I stared down at it and then back up at him. "I told you-I don't need-"

"Shut up and take it," he said, voice low but not unkind. "You'll freeze."

He didn't wait for thanks, just sank down a few feet away, back against a tree, arms folded as if

nothing could touch him.

I pulled the cloak around me despite myself. It smelled like him-cedar smoke, steel, something

wild beneath it all. My pulse thundered as my wolf stirred violently, pressing against the spell.

He smells right. He feels right.

"No,"I whispered into the fabric, forcing the words past my lips like a warding. "He can't be."

But every time his scent drifted closer, every time his gaze slid over to me, steady and

unreadable, something inside me frayed. My disguise felt thinner. My control, weaker.

I risked one glance at him, where the moonlight cut sharp lines across his jaw. Strong. Steady.

Impossible.

My wolf howled against my ribs. And for the first time since I'd stepped into this cursed

academy, I began to wonder if I was indeed fighting the wrong battle.

Hiding from exposure? Or from myself?