Chapter 3 Chapter 3

CELIA’S POV

The classroom felt like a cage after the final bell. Everyone else had scattered, off to practice or parties or whatever privileged people did with their free time. I was just trying to finish my notes, the scratch of my pen the only sound. The assignment for Professor Arden’s class was due tomorrow, and I’d worked on it for days. It was perfect. It was my armor.

A shadow fell across my paper.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. His scent hit me first—crisp autumn air and something sweet, like burnt sugar. Kaiden. My stomach tightened.

“Still scribbling, little omega?” His voice was a low melody, meant to be charming. It made my skin crawl.

I kept writing. “The assignment is due tomorrow.”

“About that.” He slid into the desk next to me, his body angled to block my exit. “You need to withdraw from what you signed.”

I finally looked at him. His expression was playful, but his eyes were flat. “Withdraw? From the student council forms? Krystal is handling that.”

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Not that. The other thing you signed. The camp forms.”

A cold trickle of dread started in my chest. “I didn’t sign any camp forms.”

“You did. You just didn’t read them.” He leaned closer, his arm brushing mine. A jolt, unwanted and electric, shot through me. “My advice? Go to the admin office. Tear them up. Say you made a mistake.”

“I don’t understand.” My voice was a whisper.

“You don’t need to understand. You just need to obey.” His finger traced a line on my notebook. “It’s for your own good. That camp… it’s not for omegas like you.”

“What camp?” The dread was solid now, a stone in my throat.

He just smiled and stood up, tapping my paper. “Think about it. We’ll talk more later.”

He sauntered out, leaving his threatening scent behind. I sat there, frozen, my notes blurring. What did I sign?

I packed my bag with trembling hands. I needed air. I needed to think. The hallway was deserted, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. I turned toward the east wing, where the old language labs were never used.

I pushed the door to an empty classroom open, seeking silence.

It wasn’t empty.

Ryker leaned against the teacher’s desk, his gray eyes calculating. Kaiden stood by the windows, blocking the light.

“Took you long enough,” Kaiden said.

I spun to leave, but Ryker was suddenly there, his hand flat against the door, closing it with a soft click. The sound was final. Trapped.

“We tried to be nice,” Ryker said, his voice a calm, smooth contrast to the panic screaming in my head. He moved closer, his predatory grace making the room feel smaller. “Now we need to be clear.”

“I don’t know what you want!” I backed up until my hips hit the edge of a desk.

“Yes, you do.” Kaiden approached from the other side. They circled me. “Withdraw from the Hockey Academy Elite Camp. You don’t belong there.”

“Hockey camp? I’m not in hockey! I’m a trainee, an academic scholar!” The pieces were there, but my mind refused to fit them together. Krystal’s forms. The signatures.

“Your name is on the roster. Our roster.” Ryker stopped in front of me. “It’s a brotherhood. A pack thing. Your presence is an insult.”

“Then get my name off it! I don’t want to be there!”

“You signed,” Kaiden singsonged. “Legally binding. Unless you withdraw, with a formal apology for overreaching, they’ll make you go. And it won’t be pretty.”

Tears of frustration burned my eyes. “This is a mistake!”

“Your mistake,” Ryker agreed softly. He reached out, not for me, but for a sheet of loose paper on the desk. He picked it up. It was a discarded flyer, the edge crisp. “You need to learn to listen.”

Before I could react, his other hand fisted in the front of my simple cotton t-shirt. I gasped. With a sharp, precise motion, he drew the paper’s edge down the center of the fabric.

It made a terrible, ripping sound.

Cool air hit my skin. I looked down, horrified. The shirt was slit from the collar to the hem of my sports bra. The two halves hung open, exposing the plain white fabric underneath and the swell of my breasts above it.

“No!” I cried, crossing my arms over my chest.

“The bra is next,” Ryker said, his gaze holding mine. He still held the paper. “Imagine that edge on your skin. Imagine it cutting through that thin cloth. Imagine everyone seeing what happens when a little omega forgets her place.”

The threat was vivid, obscene. My breath came in ragged pants. I could feel my nipples, tight and sensitive against the bra cup, painfully visible through the material. The humiliation was a living thing, coiling hot in my belly.

Kaiden moved then. His hand shot out, pushing my crossed arms down. I fought him, but he was too strong. He pinched my right nipple through the bra fabric—a sharp, sudden twist.

A sound escaped me—a choked gasp that was not entirely pain. A bolt of shocking sensation arrowed straight from my breast to my core, a hot, wet pulse of shameful awareness. My face flamed.

“Filthy bastard!” I sobbed, yanking backward.

Kaiden just smirked, bringing his fingers to his nose and inhaling. “Mmm. Fear smells sweet on you.”

Ryker made a sound of disgust. “Enough.” He shrugged out of his own tailored shirt, leaving him in a thin white undershirt that clung to the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. He tossed the shirt at me. “Cover yourself.”

I fumbled with it, my fingers numb. The fabric was soft, expensive cotton, and it carried his scent—clean linen and something sharp, like mint and ozone. I shoved my arms through the sleeves, pulling the torn edges of my own shirt together beneath it. The overshirt swamped me, falling to mid-thigh.

Ryker stepped close again, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He leaned down, his mouth near my ear. His voice was a seductive, dangerous whisper. “Stay away from our world, Celia. The camp, the team, the politics. You’re out of your depth. Time is running out to submit that withdrawal… and to submit yourself to how things are.” His breath fanned my cheek. “Or next time, we won’t use paper.”

He pulled back, his eyes tracing the tears on my face with detached interest. Then he nodded to Kaiden, and they left, the door swinging shut behind them.

I slid to the floor, the cool linoleum seeping through my skirt. I hugged Ryker’s shirt around me, his scent enveloping me, a confusing mix of violation and a strange, unwelcome comfort. My nipple still throbbed where Kaiden had touched it. The ache between my legs was a traitorous echo.

Move. You have to move.

The assignment. Professor Arden. I scrambled up, clutching my bag. I ran.

I burst into the classroom just as the final students were handing in their papers. Jasper Hale stood at the front, a collection box in his hands. The professor’s assistant. Of course.

Our eyes met. His dark brown gaze swept over me, taking in the obviously male, too-large shirt, my wild eyes, my tear-streaked face. A slow, knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t cruel like Xavier’s. It was worse. It was intimate, like he could see right through the fabric to the shame and the lingering physical thrill beneath.

I thrust my paper at him, not daring to speak. My hand shook.

He took it, his fingers brushing mine. A deliberate touch. “Cutting it close, Celia,” he murmured, just for me.

I snatched my hand back and fled to my seat, my heart hammering. The rest of the class was a blur. When Professor Arden began calling out names of those whose submissions were missing, mine was the first he said.

My head shot up. “I submitted it! I gave it to Jasper!”

Jasper looked up from his desk, his expression one of polite confusion. “I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t receive anything from Miss Thorne.”

The lie was delivered so smoothly, so convincingly, that even I almost believed it. The look in his eyes told me everything. This was planned.

“No assignment, no credit,” Professor Arden said sternly. “See me after class, Miss Thorne. And for disrupting with false accusations, you’re suspended from this class for the rest of the week.”

The world tipped sideways. Suspended. A black mark. I sat in stunned silence until the room emptied, the professor’s dismissal ringing in my ears. I walked out in a daze, the weight of their systematic destruction crushing me.

Somehow, I changed for swimming. The physical education requirement. The water might wash some of this away. The pool area was humid, echoing with shrieks from the other end where a swim team practiced. I headed for the isolated diving lake on the academy grounds, a deep, spring-fed pool surrounded by rocks.

I just wanted to sink into the silent, weightless blue.

I didn’t see Zaxer until his hands were on me.

He emerged from behind a rocky outcrop like a phantom, his black eyes utterly devoid of warmth. No words. He simply grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me toward the deep end.

“Stop! What are you—”

My protest was cut off as he shoved me under. The water was shockingly cold. I flailed, surfacing, gasping. “Zaxer!”

He was in the water with me, a powerful, dark shadow. His hand wrapped in my hair and forced me under again. Held me there. Panic exploded in my chest. I clawed at his arm, bubbles erupting from my mouth. The world was muted, green, and terrifying.

He yanked me up. I gulped air, choking.

“Why?” I screamed, water streaming from my face.

“For fun,” he said, his voice a monotone. And pushed me under again.

This time he held me longer. My lungs burned. Spots danced behind my eyelids. He’s going to kill me. The thought was clear and icy. I kicked, connected with something, and he released me.

I broke the surface, sobbing and retching, crawling for the edge. He watched me, his expression unchanged, before turning and swimming away with powerful strokes, leaving me to die or survive. I hauled myself onto the rough stone, trembling violently, vomiting water.

That was it. The last thread snapped.

A raw, guttural anger rose in me, burning away the fear. I got to my feet, dripping and shaking, and marched back toward the main building. I didn’t care who saw me. I didn’t care about the consequences. I needed answers.

I found them on the rooftop, all five of them, leaning against the ledge like kings surveying their kingdom. The wind whipped their hair. Xavier saw me first, his eyebrow arching.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Kaiden said, grinning.

“Why?” The word tore from my raw throat. “Why are you doing this? The assignment! The lake! The shirt! Just tell me why you hate me so much!”

They exchanged glances. Xavier stepped forward. “We don’t hate you, Celia. We’re indifferent to you. Or we were. Until you decided to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Where? Where?”

“The Hockey Academy Elite Summer Camp,” Jasper said, his tone clinical. “The competitive roster. You signed up to be a trainee with the elite team. My team. Our camp.”

The final piece clicked with a sickening thud. Krystal’s forms. The pages I didn’t read. She hadn’t signed me up for student council. She’d signed me up for this.

“I didn’t know!” I cried, desperation clawing at me. “Krystal gave me papers! She said it was for student council! She set me up!”

Xavier’s face darkened. “Don’t you dare blame Krystal for your own stupidity.”

“It’s true! She’s my roommate! She helped me! She—”

“She’s been my girlfriend for two years,” Xavier cut in, his voice cold steel. “She’s been tolerating you because I asked her to keep an eye on you. And you repay her by trying to worm your way into our world? A nobody omega, thinking she can compete with us?”

The betrayal was a physical blow, worse than any of their touches. Krystal. Her kindness. Her smiles. All a lie. A setup from the very first day.

“I’m not trying to compete!” I shouted, the wind stealing my words. “I just want to be left alone! I want to study!”

“But you’re better at it than us,” Ryker said quietly, his analytical gaze on me. “And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? A scholarship omega, topping the classes we barely pass. It’s an embarrassment. So you either learn your place, or we put you in your place.”

They began to circle me again, a familiar, terrifying dance. The rooftop edge felt dangerously close at my back.

“I’ll withdraw!” I babbled, backing up. “I’ll go to the office right now! I’ll apologize!”

“Too late,” Kaiden said. “The deadline was today. You’re coming to camp, little omega. And we’re going to make sure it’s the worst experience of your pathetic life.”

The circle tightened. Panic surged. I couldn’t breathe. I needed out. I darted forward, trying to slip between Jasper and Zaxer. Jasper moved to block me. In my blind flight, my hand shot out, grabbing for something, anything.

My fingers closed around a strong, warm forearm. Zaxer’s.

I looked up at him, pleading in my eyes. Please.

His black eyes met mine. There was nothing in them. No pity. No anger. Nothing.

He opened his hand.

He let my grip go.

My own momentum, my desperate pull, became my downfall. With nothing to hold onto, I stumbled backward, toward the low parapet wall at the roof’s edge. My feet tangled. The world tilted.

For a second, I was weightless, the sky and the distant ground swapping places.

My scream was lost in the wind. As I fell, my head twisted, my eyes scanning the rooftop one last time.

I saw Xavier. And I saw Krystal, stepping out of the rooftop access door, her honey-gold hair shining. She walked straight to Xavier, a brilliant smile on her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep and possessive.

Xavier’s arms went around her, pulling her close, his eyes sliding toward the edge where I’d just been. And over Krystal’s shoulder, as I fell into the void, I saw him smile against her lips.

Krystal turned her head slightly, her caramel eyes finding my falling form. And she laughed.