WILLA
"The greatest wolf weakness is what?" Professor Marcus bood, his voice carrying across the field.
I dragged my attention away from Kol and Eric with reluctance. Even then, I could still feel their eyes on .
My gaze dropped to my shoes instead. Anything to ease the pressure building under their stares.
"No one?" Professor Marcus barked.
"Wolfsbane and silver!" soone shouted.
"Incomplete mate bond!" another student yelled.
"The shewolves!" a third voice hollered.
Laughter exploded around the field.
A snort escaped before I could stop it. I looked up just in ti to see the idiot getting slapped on the back by his friends.
Felix.
Not only was he stupid and painfully unaware, he was also misogynistic.
It was not the first ti he had made comnts about won like we were fragile creatures waiting to be protected.
Even history, a subject I barely survived, had enough powerful won to prove him wrong a hundred tis over.
"Your mother is a woman," Professor Marcus said flatly. "Show so damned respect."
Felix only shrugged.
Professor Marcus muttered sothing under his breath before continuing.
"Wolfsbane, silver, the mate bond. Those answers are correct." He paused, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. "But sothing is still missing."
Confusion spread across the students’ faces. When no one answered, Professor Marcus stepped forward.
"Hesitation," he said. "That is the greatest weakness."
Silence settled over the field. Professor Marcus stopped directly in front of us.
"Hesitation can kill even the strongest warrior on the battlefield."
He paused again. Every student watched him, waiting for whatever ca next.
"Today, we are working on breaking restraints. Escaping dominant grips. Shifting balance. Redirecting force. Defensive reflexes under pressure," Professor Marcus rattled off.
Then he turned toward Elliott and .
"Show them how to break free from an Alpha restraint," he ordered with a sharp gesture.
What?
I blinked hard, my throat tightening. A second later, I realized he was talking to Elliott.
That did not make it any better. I still had no idea what I was doing.
"I want a full demonstration," Professor Marcus continued. "Slow first. Then live speed."
"Yes, sir," Elliott answered. He faced and stepped forward.
I stepped back imdiately. One of his brows lifted into a frown. My lips pressed into a thin line as I folded my arms across my chest.
"What the hell is she doing?"
"She should be grateful she got paired with him. Does she think she’s the only shewolf in this school?"
"I hate when she acts like this after throwing herself at other boys. She should be thankful he still speaks to her!"
Whispers spread around from every direction. So low. So loud enough for to hear clearly.
Honestly, I did not even understand why I was hesitating.
Maybe it was the strange tension between Elliott and . Every interaction felt loaded with sothing I could not explain, and the last thing I wanted was to blur the line even further and ruin whatever existed between him and Elyse.
Or maybe it was because of Kol and Eric.
My eyes flicked toward them from the corner of my vision.
Eric looked irritated.
Kol looked terrifying.nHis expression was carved from ice as he watched too closely, like he was dissecting every movent I made and confirming every ugly suspicion he had ever ford about Elyse and Elliot.
Eric was worse. He stood near the edge like a coiled spring, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump beneath his skin. His eyes stayed locked on , raw with betrayal and anger, like I had torn sothing out of him in front of everyone.
When I did not move, their expressions shifted. Disappointnt. Anger. Then sothing close to satisfaction.
"Elyse," Elliott snapped, pulling back.
I forced my face into sothing like a smile.
"I am not going to hurt you," he said, stepping forward again.
I stepped back. Again.
A part of knew he would not hurt . I wanted to do the demonstration. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted to forget why being near him felt like a line I should not cross.
Kol and Eric made that impossible. I looked at both of them properly. The frown had returned to their faces.
"You have thirty seconds to decide," Professor Marcus said, impatience sharp in his tone. "Either you start, or your house loses two hundred points and sits out the next combat training for detention."
The warning landed hard.
"What is the bitch doing?"
"Can she be replaced?"
"I would gladly fight alongside my Alpha!"
"Twenty seconds, Elyse," Elliott said.
My throat went dry.
"I promised I would not force you," he added. "But think about how far we have co. Think about your wish to see the cup in our house."
My wish.
"We cannot afford to lose more points," he said.
"Ten."
The clock had started ticking in my head. I counted it without aning to. It was Elyse’s wish to win the cup. What would she have done in a situation like this?
They were not breaking any rules. The teacher had paired us. It was public. Parents would not object.
Right?
"She clearly does not want to," Eric said sharply. "Stop trying to project your thoughts on her, bastard..."
"Fine," I muttered.
The mont the word left my mouth, Elliott’s hand closed around my wrist.
The contact hit like a spark in dry grass.
Fuck.
His grip was hot. Too hot. His fingers tightened on instinct, thumb pressing against my pulse like his body was marking territory his mind had not agreed to.
For a second, his eyes flickered gold. His pupils dilated.
My heart stuttered. A slow, traitorous warmth spread from that point of contact, crawling up my spine and settling low in my stomach.
Nyra stirred beneath my skin. My thighs clenched. I shook my head hard, forcing the feeling down. I should hate him.
Elyse should hate him. This was wrong. Everyone was watching.
But damn it.
Heat rose in my cheeks. I tried to pull away. He did not let go.
Then he stepped in closer. His other hand caught my waist.
"Focus on ," he said, voice low. "No one else matters."
The words settled over , steadying, wrong and right at the sa ti.
Around us, the murmurs rose again. Elyse this. Elyse that. Words sharp enough to cut through the air.
I couldn’t look away, even when I forced myself to. For a brief mont, everything else faded. There was only Elliott.
The way he stood so close, like the space between us had stopped existing. The strain in his expression, the effort he was putting into holding sothing back. Sothing I didn’t understand but could feel anyway, like pressure building under skin.
Elliott Ashford. What are you doing to my body?
"High wrist lock," he said, voice rough. It sent a strange pull through my chest. "Most people rely on strength. Don’t. Use their montum against them—"
He moved in to demonstrate.
Our bodies ca too close. His scent hit like a wave. Storm and sea. Sharp, clean, impossible to ignore.
My pulse went wild.
Professor Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Ashford."
I flinched. So he had been watching the whole ti.
"Live speed."
Elliott moved again, faster this ti and aner. His grip tightened like a clamp. His breathing changed. Shorter. Ragged. Heavy. I felt the exact second his control slipped.
I didn’t think.
I dropped my weight, twisted, hooked my leg, and reversed him. Elliott hit the platform with a heavy thud.
My breath caught.
Yet, I knew that shouldn’t have worked. Not like that.
I stared at my hands. They were shaking. I had never trained for this. Not properly. Not enough to do that.
The silence on the field lasted only a second. Then the whispers erupted.
"No way she broke out of his grip like that."
"He must have let her."
"Her? Fight? Be serious."
"She is lucky she is pretty, and has a little brain. That is all she has going for her."
So this was unusual even for Elyse.
An uncomfortable weight settled in my stomach as the murmuring continued.
I looked up again just in ti to catch Professor Marcus watching . His eyes had changed. Interest now replaced boredom.
"Maddox," he said. "You have been sandbagging."
I did not know what to think anymore. Nothing about this felt familiar.
My gaze shifted to Elliott. He was still watching . His chest rose and fell once, slow and controlled.
For a brief second, the mask slipped.
Confusion. Intrigue. Sothing raw and strained flickered across his face before he shut it down. His jaw tightened. The coldness returned.
My cheeks burned in embarrassnt. I turned away. Ugh, he was impossible.
One mont he was hot, the next cold. He should fuckimg pick one!
I stepped back, wind brushing my face. I pushed my hair away, forcing myself to breathe through the tension building in my chest.
"Willa."
I froze mid-step. "Nyra?" I whispered.
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