Chapter 4 The Rival's Smile

His smile was sharp enough to cut.

Elara stared at the hand Gideon Wicke extended toward her, studying the elegant fingers and perfectly manicured nails that spoke of privilege and power. She didn't take it, not at first. Something about the curve of his lips-practiced and predatory-and the way his dark eyes gleamed with knowing amusement made her stomach twist with warning.

Her wolf pressed against her ribs, hackles rising at his scent. Pine and leather, yes, but underneath lurked something wilder, more dangerous. Not the clean dominance of an Alpha, but something that whispered of secrets and shadows.

But Gideon didn't drop his hand or show any sign of offense at her hesitation. He simply tilted his head, that razor-sharp grin widening to reveal teeth that seemed just a little too white, a little too perfect. "What's the harm? A walk never killed anyone. Not here, anyway."

The way he emphasized 'here' sent a chill down her spine. As if other places weren't so safe. As if he knew things about danger that she didn't.

Her brows knit together. "I don't need company."

He gave a soft laugh, low and smooth as aged whiskey. The sound seemed to caress her skin in a way that made her wolf shift uneasily. "That's exactly why you should take mine."

Against her better judgment and every survival instinct screaming at her to walk away, Elara shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and started down the hall. Gideon fell into step beside her with fluid grace, his hand sliding casually into his pocket as if it had always belonged there. His presence was too easy, too practiced-like he'd perfected the art of being exactly what someone needed him to be.

Where Darius's dominance crashed over her like a violent storm, demanding submission through sheer overwhelming force, Gideon's was silk wrapped around a blade. Dangerous because it didn't demand attention-it lured it, seduced it, made you want to lean closer even as warning bells rang in your head.

The Academy's afternoon light streaming through the tall windows caught the gold threading in his uniform, marking him as from one of the older, more established packs. Not quite as ancient as the Fenrirs, but old enough to command respect and fear in equal measure.

He glanced sideways at her, taking in her plain uniform with its conspicuous lack of pack insignia, the way she held herself like someone expecting an attack. "So... the rumors are true. Rejected already?"

Her chest tightened as if someone had wrapped wire around her lungs and pulled. But she forced her voice to remain steady, emotionless. "If you're looking for entertainment, find someone else."

"Oh, I'm entertained." His smirk deepened, revealing the hint of canines that were just a fraction too sharp. "But not in the way you think."

The Academy's marble floors echoed with their footsteps, a rhythmic counterpoint to the whispered conversations of other students they passed. She caught fragments-her name, speculation about her bloodline, bets on how long she'd last before transferring out or worse.

Elara exhaled sharply through her nose, her wolf's agitation bleeding through to make her movements tense. "You don't even know me."

"Not yet." His grin took on an edge of genuine interest that somehow made her more nervous than his calculated charm. "But I'd like to."

Something in his tone-not quite flirtation, not quite threat, but balanced perfectly on the knife's edge between them-made her want to roll her eyes and laugh at the same time. The banter felt light and teasing on the surface, chipping away at the thick walls she'd built around herself since yesterday's humiliation. For one absurd heartbeat, she almost smiled. Almost allowed herself to believe that someone might actually find her worth knowing rather than worth rejecting.

Which was exactly why she didn't trust it.

Her wolf shifted uneasily inside her chest, its voice a low growl in her mind: Be careful. This one hunts differently.

Still, she found herself answering despite every instinct telling her to stay silent. "You've got some nerve, bringing this up so casually."

"That's my charm." He gestured elegantly with one hand, the movement drawing attention to the subtle strength in his shoulders, the predatory grace that marked him as more dangerous than his easy smile suggested. "I say what everyone else is whispering behind cupped hands and closed doors. Saves you the headache of wondering what they really think."

She bit back a laugh, catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep the sound locked inside. That unsettled her more than his words or his proximity or the way other students tracked their movement down the hall like they were watching a particularly engaging piece of theater. It shouldn't be this easy to talk with him, not when she barely knew him beyond reputation, not when her entire world was still reeling from the brutal rejection that had shattered something fundamental inside her.

The corridor opened into the Academy's central quad, where students lounged across perfectly manicured grass and ornate stone benches carved with pack histories. Ancient oak trees provided shade for study groups and informal pack meetings, their leaves rustling with the whispered secrets of generations. The late afternoon sun painted everything in shades of gold and amber, but the warmth didn't reach Elara-not when she could feel the weight of judgment following her every step.

Eyes turned the moment Gideon and Elara stepped into the open space together. Conversations paused mid-sentence, heads bent together as whispers flared like wildfire, quick and cutting and designed to draw blood.

"Is she seriously walking with him?"

"First rejected by the Alpha heir, now cozying up to Wicke?"

"She's shameless. Doesn't she have any pride left?"

"Maybe she's trying to make Darius jealous. Pathetic."

"Or maybe she's just that desperate for attention."

Elara's steps faltered as the gossip washed over her, each word designed to cut deeper than the last. Heat flushed up her neck in a wave of humiliation that made her wolf whine with distress, and she straightened her spine with military precision, pretending the whispers didn't slice through her remaining dignity like claws through silk.

Gideon leaned closer, close enough that his breath brushed her ear and sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. His voice dropped to an intimate murmur pitched just for her enhanced hearing. "Ignore them. They only wish they had my attention."

Arrogant. Bold. Infuriating in its casual confidence. But his words almost worked, almost made her believe that she was the one with power in this situation rather than the broken, rejected mate stumbling through her first real social disaster.

Almost.

Elara's wolf stirred restlessly, pressing against her ribs with increasing unease, and that was when she felt it-another presence cutting through the afternoon warmth like a blade of winter ice. Heavy. Dark. Achingly familiar in a way that made her chest constrict with phantom pain.

Her eyes snapped up, scanning the quad with predatory focus.

Across the open space, near the edge of the training grounds where combat practice had ended and equipment lay scattered like the remnants of battle, Darius Fenrir stood motionless as a statue carved from granite. He wasn't sparring now, wasn't moving at all-just standing with his arms folded across his chest, his shadow long and ominous in the fading light. His jaw was set hard enough to crack stone, his storm-gray eyes unreadable but burning with an intensity that made her wolf howl with confused longing.

His gaze locked onto her with laser focus, as if everything else in the quad had simply ceased to exist.

The atmosphere shifted instantly, charging with the kind of electric tension that preceded lightning strikes. The whispers grew louder, sharper, feeding on the drama unfolding before them like carrion birds sensing fresh prey. This was better than any entertainment the Academy's rumor mill could have manufactured.

Gideon noticed the change immediately, his predator's instincts honed to perfection after years of navigating pack politics and power plays. He chuckled under his breath, low and genuinely amused, like he'd just won a bet he'd been waiting to collect on.

"Ah. The proud Alpha himself."

Elara's stomach churned with a mixture of dread and something that felt disturbingly like anticipation. Darius didn't move, didn't speak, didn't give any outward sign of emotion beyond the rigid tension in his shoulders and the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. But his silent fury rolled across the quad like a storm front, dark and threatening and impossible to ignore.

Her wolf clawed inside her chest, confused and desperate, torn between pride that demanded she ignore him completely and instinct that still recognized him as mate despite his cruel rejection. The bond might be wounded, but it wasn't severed-she could feel it pulling taut between them like a wire under tension, ready to snap.

Gideon, however, seemed absolutely delighted by the development. He slowed his steps deliberately, angling closer to Elara until his shoulder brushed hers in a touch that appeared casual but was clearly calculated for maximum impact. The contact sent warmth spreading through her skin, her wolf responding to the comfort of pack contact even as her mind screamed warnings.

Her heart kicked hard against her ribs as she realized what he was doing.

The whispers turned into open stares now, dozens of pairs of eyes tracking every micro-expression, every subtle shift in body language. The rejected mate, walking beside the Alpha heir's known rival, under Darius's burning gaze while tension thick enough to cut with a blade filled the space between them. The scandal was writing itself in real time, and everyone present knew they were witnessing something that would be talked about for months.

Elara wanted to pull away from Gideon's deliberate provocation, to stop feeding the fire that was already threatening to consume what little reputation she had left. But before she could step aside, he angled toward her again, lowering his voice until only she could hear through the supernatural acoustics that every wolf possessed.

"Let him watch."

Her breath caught in her throat, trapped between shock and a dangerous thrill that she absolutely did not want to acknowledge.

Gideon leaned even closer, his lips almost brushing her ear in a gesture that would look intimate from any distance, his smirk sharpening to a blade designed to cut through every defense she'd erected.

"He'll regret rejecting you. I'll make sure of it."