Chapter 7 – Threesome, Not That Kind!

Rae

“Humans don’t move that fast.”

Linc’s voice was quiet, but the words struck harder than if he had accused me in front of the entire class.

I lowered my arm.

“I’m human.”

“I know.”

“Then apparently humans can move that fast.”

His pale-gray eyes remained fixed on me. “Not without training.”

“I don’t have any.”

“That’s the problem,” Julien murmured.

I looked between them. “You’re both making this much stranger than it needs to be.”

Julien glanced toward Mr. Calder.

The instructor had resumed correcting another pair, but his attention kept returning to us. Every few seconds, his gaze landed on my stance, my hands, or the wrist Linc had released.

“I don’t think we’re the ones making it strange,” Julien said.

Warmth threatened beneath the moonstone again, though the pendant remained still against my chest.

“Can we keep practicing?”

Linc did not immediately hold out his hand.

The hesitation irritated me more than his suspicion.

“I’m not going to break,” I said.

“That isn’t what concerns me.”

“Then what does?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Julien stepped between us before I could argue. “I’ll take the next round.”

He closed one hand around my wrist. His grip was firmer than Linc’s first attempt, but controlled enough for me to use the technique.

“Use the technique exactly as I taught you,” he said.

“I did before.”

“Humor me.”

I rotated toward his thumb, stepped back, and broke the hold.

Ordinary.

Julien caught my wrist again.

I repeated the escape.

Still ordinary.

By the fourth attempt, the strange burst of instinct had begun to feel less like something that had happened and more like a trick my memory had played on me.

“See?” I said. “Nothing unusual.”

Julien studied my feet. “That doesn’t explain the first one.”

“Maybe Linc loosened his grip.”

“I didn’t,” Linc said.

“You could be mistaken.”

“I’m not.”

Julien released me. “We’re not going to solve it in the middle of class.”

“There’s nothing to solve.”

Neither of them looked convinced.

Mr. Calder called for everyone to reset the drill with increased resistance. His gaze lingered on me as he gave the instruction.

“Controlled pressure,” he warned. “You are testing technique, not trying to tear someone’s arm from its socket.”

A few students laughed.

Mr. Calder did not.

Linc held out his hand again.

This time, I placed my wrist in his grip without hesitating.

His fingers closed around me carefully, but the earlier ease between us had changed. He was paying attention to every detail now.

The angle of my arm.

The position of my feet.

The moment my weight shifted.

I escaped at an entirely human speed.

Linc’s expression did not relax.

“You looked disappointed,” I said.

“I’m thinking.”

“That seems dangerous.”

The corner of his mouth moved.

Julien noticed. “Was that almost a smile?”

“No.”

“I saw it.”

“You were mistaken.”

“I’m never mistaken.”

“You thought Brax’s pizza connections were imaginary.”

“They are imaginary.”

From the opposite side of the arena, Brax’s voice rose above the scrape of shoes across the mats.

“My connections are deeply offended.”

I turned toward him.

Brax had been paired with a broad Beta from another pack whose arms appeared almost as large as my waist. They were supposed to be practicing wrist escapes. Instead, the Beta had Brax trapped in a loose headlock while Brax attempted to pry his arm away.

“You’re supposed to break the grip,” Mr. Calder called.

“I’m expanding the curriculum,” Brax answered.

“Into what?”

“How not to get bitten by someone who fights dirty.”

His partner laughed. “I haven’t bitten you.”

“You thought about it.”

“I really didn’t.”

“That’s exactly what a biter would say.”

Several students laughed.

Even Mr. Calder’s mouth tightened as though he was fighting a reaction.

The tension in my shoulders eased.

Linc followed my gaze. “Brax and I have a bet.”

Julien sighed. “That sentence never ends well.”

“What kind of bet?” I asked.

Linc nodded toward Grant and Quinn.

Grant stood near the edge of the mat with one hand around Quinn’s wrist, patiently correcting the same movement for what appeared to be the tenth time.

Quinn twisted, stepped in the wrong direction, and frowned when he did not release her.

“You said you were taking it easy on me,” she complained.

“I am.”

“This is easy?”

“Yes.”

She tried again.

Grant blocked the escape without visible effort.

“You’re turning too late,” he told her. “Rotate first, then step.”

“I am rotating.”

“You’re pulling against my hand.”

“You could let go.”

“That defeats the exercise.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I’m never going to need this once we take over the pack. I’ll have guards.”

Grant’s expression changed.

Barely.

I still noticed.

“You should be able to protect yourself,” he said.

“I’ll have you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll always be standing beside you.”

The words struck somewhere beneath my ribs.

Grant had once stood beside me.

Then one day, he hadn’t.

Quinn smiled as though he had said something romantic. “You worry too much.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. It’s one of your least entertaining qualities.”

I looked away before Grant caught me watching.

Unfortunately, Linc already had.

“I don’t see it,” he said.

“What?”

He nodded toward Quinn. “What Grant sees in her.”

My eyebrows rose. “You probably shouldn’t say that.”

“I agree with him,” Julien said.

“You too?”

“Completely.”

I lowered my voice. “Everyone assumes she’ll become your Luna.”

Julien gave me a bleak look. “Please don’t say that while I’m standing on a combat mat. I’d prefer not to lose the will to defend myself.”

Linc’s mouth twitched again.

I stared at them. “You’re serious.”

“Grant has endless patience when something matters,” Julien said. “He has been running out of it since breakfast.”

“But they’ve been together for months.”

“That is a current condition,” Linc replied. “Not a permanent one.”

I shouldn’t have found that funny.

After everything that had happened since arriving at Ravenwood, there was something absurdly comforting about Julien and Linc discussing Grant’s relationship like a tactical failure waiting to happen.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Julien looked satisfied.

Linc glanced toward Brax. “He thinks they’ll last until midterms.”

I blinked. “You’re betting on when they break up?”

“Brax is betting,” Julien said. “I prefer not to gamble on inevitabilities.”

“That still sounds like a bet.”

“It’s academic confidence.”

“I said they’ll break up sooner,” Linc added.

Brax looked across the arena as though he had heard his name through sheer instinct.

“Why do I feel attacked?”

“You are,” Linc called.

Brax pointed at him. “Rude.”

Mr. Calder’s voice cracked across the room. “Weston, if you have enough breath to comment, you have enough breath to train.”

Brax gave him a thumbs-up. “Absolutely, sir. I’m training my emotional resilience.”

His partner tightened the headlock.

“See?” Brax wheezed. “Hostile learning environment.”

More laughter moved through the arena.

This time, mine joined it.

For several minutes, I forgot about Mr. Calder’s suspicion and the impossible way I had escaped Linc’s grip. I forgot that so many of Ravenwood’s students had spent years treating me as though I barely existed.

I was simply standing between Julien and Linc, laughing while Brax turned a basic combat exercise into a personal crisis.

Then Quinn’s voice cut through the room.

“Funny how easy it is for some people to enjoy class when two future command wolves are doing all the work for them.”

The laughter died.

My smile disappeared with it.

Julien’s expression cooled.

Linc moved half a step closer to me. The shift was subtle, but I noticed it immediately.

Quinn stood beside Grant with her arms folded, her attention fixed on me.

“I mean, it must be nice,” she continued. “First you take Ashley’s place, and now everyone has to adjust because you can’t keep up.”

The room fell silent.

The hush was sharper than the one that had followed my abnormal escape.

It carried expectation.

Mr. Calder turned toward us. His gaze moved briefly to me before settling on Quinn.

He said nothing.

Of course he didn’t.

“Who is Ashley?” I asked.

Quinn’s smile widened. “The wolf who should be here instead of you.”

The unnamed student who had lost her academy seat.

Apparently, she had a face, friends, and enough influence to keep punishing me without attending Ravenwood.

“She failed the admission process,” Julien said.

“Because they gave her place away.”

“No,” he replied. “Because she failed.”

Quinn’s eyes flashed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“You were speaking loudly enough for the entire arena,” Julien said. “You clearly wanted an audience.”

Brax whistled from across the mat. “That was elegant.”

Quinn ignored him.

“She trained her entire life to attend Ravenwood,” she said. “Then Rae appears, and suddenly the academy lowers its standards.”

My hands curled at my sides.

Across the arena, Mr. Calder watched me with the same narrowed attention he had worn after the wrist escape.

He was waiting to see what I would do.

So was everyone else.

Linc’s voice remained quiet. “You’re repeating whatever Ashley told you to say.”

Rebecca and Stephanie exchanged a glance from near the weapons wall.

That told me enough.

If Linc was right, Ashley didn’t need to attend Ravenwood to influence what happened inside it.

I forced my fingers to relax.

“If Ashley wanted the seat,” I said, “she should have earned it.”

A ripple moved through the class.

Quinn stared at me.

Her expression emptied before anger filled it.

She stepped forward.

Grant caught her wrist before she completed the movement.

He did not position himself between us or offer me the protection he had denied me for years. He simply stopped Quinn with one hand and a look that made the entire arena feel colder.

“Enough.”

The word was quiet.

It carried anyway.

Quinn turned toward him. “You’re taking her side?”

“I’m stopping you from embarrassing yourself.”

Color drained from her face before returning in a furious rush.

“I was defending Ashley.”

“Ashley isn’t here.”

“Because of her.”

“Because she failed.”

The confirmation landed harder coming from Grant.

Quinn yanked against his hold, but he did not release her.

Mr. Calder finally clapped once.

“Back to your drills.”

No one moved immediately.

His gaze settled on me again.

The suspicion had not left his expression. If anything, the confrontation had given him another reason to watch.

Movement above the arena caught my attention.

An observation gallery ran along the upper wall, separated from the training floor by a wooden railing. Professor Mansfield stood behind it with one hand resting against the polished wood.

I hadn’t seen her arrive.

Her dark auburn hair was pinned neatly at the back of her head, and several folders were tucked beneath one arm. She might have been passing through.

She wasn’t passing now.

Her attention rested on the training floor.

On Grant holding Quinn back.

On Brax standing several yards away, his earlier grin gone as he watched me.

On Julien at my right and Linc at my left.

Finally, on me.

Mr. Calder followed my gaze toward the gallery. Something passed between the two instructors before he looked away.

“Reset,” he ordered.

Grant released Quinn.

She stepped back, humiliation and anger burning across her face. Rebecca and Stephanie moved closer to her, whispering too softly for me to hear.

Julien turned toward me. “That was a risky thing to say.”

“I know.”

“Do you regret it?”

I looked at Quinn, then at Grant.

His attention was still on me.

“No.”

Linc studied my face for another moment before nodding once.

“Good.”

The word settled inside me with unexpected warmth.

Julien held out his hand for the next drill, and I stepped back into position between him and Linc.

Above us, Professor Mansfield had not moved.

Her fingers tightened around the gallery rail as her gaze traveled over the four command heirs before returning to me.