Chapter 7 Fissures

Ronan POV

The holo-screens blinked with the combat recordings, releasing the usual cold glow across the observation deck. I leaned forward, my elbow was  placed  on the console, and my eyes locked on Elias Quinn. Every move. Every breath. Every slight adjustment. It all repeated on loop.

He was suppressing himself. I could see it, his muscle tension, restrained energy, deliberate pacing. He wasn’t holding back because he lacked strength. He was holding back because he chose to. And that was dangerous.

I paused the footage of him and Kael sparring, leaning closer. The  twitch in his jaw, the micro-flare of his nostrils, everything was  subtle. Barely noticeable, except I knew what it meant. Restraint of that magnitude wasn’t natural for someone his age, not someone untested. And yet, he made it look effortless.

A flash of scent caught me, it was soft, almost sweet, mingled with musk. My stomach tightened. Irritation mixed with an unexpected… longing. I clenched my jaw. Focus, Vale. Discipline. Control. The scent shouldn’t exist here, yet it did. Lingering, teasing, pulling at something primal I hadn’t felt in years.

And his voice. Quiet, measured. Calm. Control… always control. The words weren’t loud, but they replayed in my mind as though whispered directly into my ears.

Damn it.

I slammed my fist against the console, making the holo-screen wobble. The mixture of anger and something darker was unbearable. He shouldn’t affect me. Not like this. Not ever. Yet there it was,  a swell in my command, a disturbance in my usually unshakable focus.

I scrolled through the feed again, scanning every angle. Each strike, each counter, each measured feint, he was precise, disciplined, untouchable. And yet, the tension he carried beneath the surface… it fascinated me. Enraged me. Conflicted me.

I pushed back from the console and stood. My boots clicked against the metallic floor, and my cape brushed the edges of the observation deck. Darkness swallowed the corridors beyond, but I didn’t hesitate. Something told me he wasn’t done for the day. Something told me he’d test limits even when rules forbade it.

I moved down the hall, my senses sharpening. The academy at night was quieter than expected. Shadows stretched like fingers, hiding everything while revealing the slightest movement.

I reached the training hall. Empty. Or so it seemed. Wooden swords lined the racks, polished floors gleaming faintly in the low lighting. The faintest vibration in the air, subtle, almost imperceptible, told me he was here.

Then the scent hit me fully. Elias Quinn. Alone. Moving silently, training with methodical precision. Every strike, every pivot, every stance radiated restraint and power beneath it. Coiled power, barely restrained, waiting.

I stepped into the doorway, letting the frame hide me in shadow. My pulse quickened. His presence filled the hall, steady and unyielding, yet underlined with something volatile. That faint, deliberate pheromone trace tugged at me like an unseen chain.

“Elias,” I said finally, my voice low, even, controlled.

He froze mid-strike, wooden sword raised, posture perfect. Calm. Alert. Curious. “Ronan,” he replied, voice neutral but measured. Eyes met mine evenly, unflinching.

“Training alone,” I said, stepping closer, my boots resounding softly. “At this hour. Against regulations.”

He lowered his sword with fluidity, resting it on his shoulder. “I have my reasons.”

I crossed the floor slowly, my gaze scanning every detail. Every micro-movement. His form had been perfect, fluid, deliberate. He wasn’t just practicing technique, he was practicing restraint. And that restraint wasn’t for show. It was… controlled suppression of something I couldn’t yet identify.

“What are you hiding, Elias?” I asked, firm, demanding. Alpha authority should have forced hesitation. He didn’t even blink.

He tilted his head,  a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hiding? Nothing. Just training.”

“Lies,” I said sharply. “I’ve seen enough to recognize suppression. Strength held back. Purpose masked. You’re not here just to train.”

He shrugged, casual, effortless. “Then you’ll have to watch closely.”

The scent hit again, stronger this time. Cedar, faint musk, and something soft, warm. My chest constricted. My control wavered. Desire and irritation tangled inside me, impossible to separate. I ground my teeth. He should not have this effect on me. Not now. Not ever.

I stepped closer, deliberate, careful. “You can’t fool me,” I said. “I know when someone restrains themselves. You’re not just holding back power, you’re hiding intent. Motivation. Plan.”

His eyes met mine steadily, unblinking, calm, measured. “Maybe I don’t need to explain to you.”

I exhaled slowly. Frustration rolled through me. He wasn’t afraid of me. Not in the slightest. That alone should have made me furious. And yet… I felt something dangerous. Curiosity. Fascination.

“You’re reckless,” I said. “Training at night, when no one’s watching. Do you realize the risk? Someone could intervene, report, punish you. And yet, here you are.”

He tilted his head slightly, faintly amused. “And yet, you’re here. Observing me.”

Anger flared again inside me, but beneath it… there was admiration. Irritation and fascination mixed like venom and honey. He challenged me effortlessly, and I couldn’t look away.

“What are you hiding?” I repeated, my voice sharper, and commanding.

Still calm, still poised, he answered, “I told you. Nothing. Why would it matter?”

The question scraped me deeper than I expected. Why would it matter? Instincts, training, authority, all of it screamed to dominate, to test, to uncover. And yet, he held a power over me I hadn’t felt before. Calm. Unshakable. Unyielding.

I closed the distance slowly, deliberately, and cautiously. “Because I can’t ignore it. You’re not ordinary. Not here. Not anywhere. I won’t allow instability.”

He met my gaze evenly, a faint, unbothered smile. “Instability? I’m in control.”

The mantra repeated in my mind. Control. Always control. His control was absolute. And yet, it affected me. Made me question. Made me falter. Made me… aware in ways I shouldn’t admit.

I exhaled, stepping back, letting the tension hang in the air. “Stay here,” I said quietly, low, intended only for him. “I’ll be watching. Always.”

He tilted his head slightly, acknowledgment subtle but deliberate. Calm, composed, unshaken. He knew the effect he’d had, and didn’t even need to act on it. That alone irritated me. Fascinated me.

I turned to leave, my boots resounding on polished floors, but I paused. And turned, one last glance. The hall smelled of sweat, wood polish, and him, distinct, lingering, impossible to ignore.

What are you hiding, Elias Quinn? I muttered under my breath.