The Last Wildcard

CHAPTER ONE

The Wildcard

The helicopter blades cut through the fog, their thunder vibrating straight into Riven Ashcroft's ribs. She kept her hands flat on her thighs, fingers steady by force of will, as the island rose beneath them. From above, Elysian Isle looked like it was lifted from a luxury travel feed, with emerald canopy, white beaches, a ring of water so still it seemed painted on. Paradise curated for beautiful lies. Riven didn't trust still things.

The pilot never turned to look at her. The headset pressed tight over her ears crackled with static, then a smooth voice slid through. "Contestants, welcome to Elysian Isle."

As if the name could soften what everyone knew this place really was.

The helicopter descended onto a circular landing pad carved from obsidian stone. Floating lenses drifted into position the moment the skids touched down, red lights blinking alive in unison. The broadcast was already live. Somewhere beyond the clouds, millions of eyes were turning toward her.

The doors slid open. Heat rolled in, thick and humid, carrying the scent of wildflowers and blood beneath it. Riven stepped out last.

The instant her boots met the stone, the island reacted. Not with spectacle but with a subtle tightening, like a breath drawn too deep. The wind stuttered. The jungle went unnaturally quiet. Somewhere far away, something howled, then cut off mid cry. Riven ignored it. She lifted her chin and walked forward.

The dress production had given her was black, sleeveless, slit high enough to be deliberate. Elegant enough to make heads turn. She felt every stare snap toward her, felt the shift ripple through the gathered contestants. Wolves with eyes too bright. Witches with sigils faint beneath their skin. Shifters coiled tight with violence. Fae smiling without warmth. Conversations died as she approached, attention narrowing on her.

A notification ticker flared briefly across one of the floating screens.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

wildwatcher88: Wait-who is she? New girl alert.

moonhowl: She's human?? No way they're serious.

darkhearts: The black dress is a choice though...

fangirl_kay: Someone check her pulse, she looks too calm for this mess.

A woman in crimson stepped forward, her heels clicking against stone. Vivian Drake, Darling Supernatural's beloved host, her beauty honed to a sharp edge. Her smile bloomed wide as the cameras drifted closer. "Welcome, besties," Vivian purred. "Another season begins."

Applause broke out on cue. Some genuine, some hungry, some calculated. Vivian's gaze slid to Riven and lingered a fraction too long, like she was appraising merchandise. "And as promised," she continued, "we have a surprise."

The murmur that followed had a cutting edge to it. Riven felt a prickle crawl under her skin.

"Every season, we introduce a wildcard," Vivian said. "Someone who doesn't quite fit the rules." The cameras pivoted, framing Riven from every angle. "This season, we went further. Meet Riven Ashcroft."

There was a pause. The kind the editors loved.

"A human."

The word detonated quietly. Shock rippled through the semicircle. Riven kept her face blank even as the whispers broke loose.

"A human?"

"She won't last a night."

"This is a stunt."

"Who thought this was funny?"

The live feed spiked.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

aboc: HUMAN??? This show is insane this year.

princess: She's about to get eaten alive...

kay: Lowkey rooting for her. Underdog energy hits different.

derah: Why is the wolf staring at her like that??

Riven felt it then, a particular gaze that didn't slide away. She turned and met eyes the color of molten gold.

He stood slightly apart from the others, tall, broad shouldered, his presence bending the space around him as if the world made room by instinct. His stare wasn't just hostile; it was sharp, closer to recognition, as though her existence offended him on a personal level. His nostrils flared, jaw tightening, eyes raking over her like he was searching for a scent that didn't belong.

Something in her chest tightened in response.

He was Jace Draven, though she didn't know his name yet. Alpha in every line of him. Power wrapped in muscle and restraint. His lip curled, the faintest tell of anger, and the air between them seemed to thicken, charged and volatile. For one strange heartbeat, the noise of the set dulled. It felt as though the island itself leaned in to watch them look at each other.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

moonhowl: The wolf guy is NOT happy.

fangirl_kay: Why do I feel tension?? It's been two seconds.

darkhearts: Enemies to lovers calling it now

wildwatcher88: The way he's staring at her?? Sir, blink.

Vivian clapped once, breaking the moment. "Our human wildcard," she announced brightly. "No magic. No faction. No protection."

The words settled into Riven's bones like cold.

"She's here to compete like everyone else," Vivian went on. "To survive the trials, to form bonds, to win."

To survive. The jungle beyond the pavilion shifted, leaves whispering against one another. Stone markers along the path pulsed faintly, veins of light crawling like something alive beneath the surface. The gates groaned open.

"The island awaits," Vivian said, smile sharpening. "And remember... everyone is watching."

The contestants began to move, alliances forming in murmured clusters. Riven stayed still for half a second longer. The obsidian beneath her feet thrummed, a low vibration she felt more than heard. She told herself it was nerves.

As she stepped toward the jungle, she felt Jace's gaze follow her. Not like prey. Like a problem he hadn't decided how to solve.

The cameras tracked her every step. The island shifted again.

CHAPTER TWO

This love doesn't like weakness

Riven exhaled slowly. The jungle wasn't far from what she had imagined. The path narrowed almost immediately, stone giving way to damp soil layered with fallen leaves. The air thickened as she moved deeper, pressing against her skin and lungs alike, heavy with rot, green life, and older stuff that didn't bother hiding.

She walked alone. Not because she wanted to, but because no one had offered to walk beside her.

Clusters formed ahead of her. Wolves gravitated toward wolves, bodies angling instinctively into loose packs. Witches murmured in low voices, sigils dimming beneath the canopy. Shifters moved with restless energy, eyes scanning the shadows as if they expected the jungle to strike first.

No one slowed for her.

Good, she thought. Let them pretend I'm already dead.

The cameras followed. She felt the soft whirr above the treetops, drifting between branches like watchful insects. No matter where she turned, she was never unobserved. Not for a second. Somewhere beyond the island, millions of eyes were on her. She wondered if anyone she'd ever known was watching. The thought died quickly. There had never been anyone to care.

Her boots sank into the earth. The ground was warm. She focused on her breathing, on keeping her stride steady, on ignoring the way the jungle seemed to lean toward her as she passed...vines curling subtly, leaves shivering without wind.

Ahead, the path opened into a wide clearing carved unnaturally smooth, as though something massive had pressed the land flat. Stone pillars ringed the space, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, veins of light crawling beneath their surfaces.

The contestants slowed. Some stopped altogether. Riven did too.

The clearing hummed with pressure, like standing too close to a live wire. Her skin prickled. The back of her neck tightened.

A voice echoed across the space.

"This is the first trial."

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, layered and unnatural, as if the jungle itself were speaking. The forest fell silent in response. Even the insects stopped.

"Survival. Observation. Choice."

Stone shifted beneath their feet. The pillars brightened, the symbols flaring to life.

"You will not be told the rules," the voice continued calmly. "You will learn them."

A ripple of unease moved through the clearing. Riven felt the change in the way the others looked at her. They weren't just wary now. They were calculating.

Her gaze lifted, colliding with Jace Draven's across the clearing.

He stood apart from his pack, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. His golden eyes locked onto her, darker than hostility. Conflicted. As if his instincts were pulling him toward her even while his pride fought it. For a fleeting second, she felt seen not as a weakness, not as a joke, but as a threat he didn't yet understand.

The sensation unsettled her more than fear ever could.

Nearby, the shadowed man, Lysander studied the pillars instead of her, his expression unreadable. Thorne leaned casually against one of the stones, arms crossed, his gaze flicking to Riven and away again, as though she were an equation he hadn't decided to solve.

The ground trembled.

A low rumble rolled beneath them as the earth split open at the center of the clearing. Stone slabs slid apart, revealing a descending stairway spiraling into darkness. Cold air rushed upward, smelling of damp stone and something faintly metallic.

"Enter," the voice commanded.

No one moved.

Then someone laughed nervously. A wolf stepped forward, claws half extended, confidence radiating off him. He strode toward the stairs without hesitation.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the symbols on the pillars flared violently. The ground bucked. He vanished.

The stone sealed itself again as though nothing had happened. Silence crashed down. No scream echoed back. No body returned.

Riven's stomach dropped.

"Begin," the voice said, almost pleased.

Chaos erupted. Some contestants rushed for the stairs. Others recoiled. A witch screamed as the ground beneath her liquefied, swallowing her ankle before flinging her backward onto the stone.

Riven didn't move. She watched.

She watched the symbols on the pillars flicker in patterns. Watched how the ground reacted differently depending on where each contestant stepped. Watched how the jungle at the edge of the clearing remained untouched.

Her heart pounded, but her mind sharpened. She took one careful step forward. Nothing happened. Holding her breath, she took another step. The earth remained still beneath her feet.

A shifter darted past her and the ground surged, hurling him sideways with bone cracking force. Riven froze. Slowly, deliberately, she placed her foot back where it had been. The pressure eased. A wordless whisper brushed her awareness, raising goosebumps along her arms.

Across the clearing, Jace stared openly now. Thorne straightened. Lysander's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing for the first time.

Riven swallowed.

"Hey."

A girl stepped beside her, delicate and luminous, wings shimmering faintly in the filtered light. Her smile was pretty, her eyes far too sharp for comfort.

"How long are you going to look lost?" the fairy asked lightly. "There's no mercy in this jungle. Love doesn't find the weak here."

Riven forced herself to breathe. "I'm not lost or weak," she said. "Just paying attention."

The fairy's smile widened. "Smart. I'm Fantasy."

"Riven."

Fantasy's gaze flicked to the still, unshifting ground beneath Riven's feet. Interest sparked in her eyes.

"Well," Fantasy murmured, "this just got interesting."

CHAPTER THREE

Little Miss Scared

"Let's go," Fantasy said, fingers curling around Riven's wrist before she could protest.

Riven stumbled half a step as she was pulled forward, boots scraping over stone. "Do you usually kidnap people before introducing yourself properly?"

Fantasy laughed, light and musical. "Only the interesting ones."

Riven shot her a look. "So what's your power? Or is it a secret until you drown me in a lake or something?"

Fantasy's smile deepened, a flicker of something ancient passing behind her bright eyes. "You'll find out soon enough."

They emerged into the camp clearing.

Firelight bathed the space in gold and shadow. A massive pit burned at the center like an altar, flames licking upward, sending sparks into the night. Long wooden tables curved around it, already crowded with contestants. Witches in flowing dark fabrics. Wolves with alert, predatory stillness. Shifters whose casual postures radiated coiled violence. Sirens whose beauty shimmered unnaturally in the glow.

Laughter rang out, too loud in places, too careful in others. Riven recognized it for what it was: performance. The kind people put on when they knew they were being watched.

Because they were.

Floating cameras drifted above the clearing, lenses catching every smile, every glance, every calculated touch. Somewhere beyond the jungle, viewers were already choosing favorites. Already shipping couples. Already deciding who deserved to stay and who could disappear.

Riven halted at the edge of the firelight. She didn't move toward the tables. Instead, she sat on a low stone near the pit, hands resting loosely on her knees, eyes fixed on the flames. They twisted and reshaped endlessly, never settling into one form. She found herself studying the patterns without meaning to. Which sparks burned brighter. Which flames starved first.

Food was laid out in abundance. Roasted meat, still steaming. Bread that tore apart in soft clouds. Fruit gleaming too brightly, too perfectly. It all felt like a gift offered by something that would demand payment later.

She stayed where she was.

Around her, alliances were forming with quiet urgency. A cluster of witches leaned close, whispering behind their hands. Two wolves sat shoulder to shoulder, bodies angled outward, guarding each other instinctively. A siren laughed softly as a shifter bent closer, her voice curling around him like a promise.

This is a dating show, she reminded herself. Or at least that's what they call it.

It didn't feel like one. It felt like a hunting ground.

"Are you planning to sit there all night," a voice drawled, "or is that part of your strategy?"

Riven didn't flinch. She'd heard him approach long before he spoke. She turned her head slowly.

Jace stood beside her, the firelight carving sharp lines along his face. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Simple black shirt, dark trousers. No visible symbols, no flashy display of power. There was something restrained about him that felt more dangerous than the others' open aggression.

"Depends," she said. "Does watching people eat tell you anything useful?"

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Sometimes."

He sat beside her without asking, close enough that she felt his heat through the cool night air. She shifted just slightly, reclaiming a sliver of space.

"You didn't eat," he observed.

"You noticed."

"You're the only one acting like the food might bite back."

Riven glanced at the flames. "You're assuming I'm acting."

That earned a low chuckle. It wasn't mocking. It was...intrigued.

"I'm Jace," he said.

She didn't answer. Not because she was hiding but because there was no point. Everyone here already knew her name. The cameras made sure of that.

He studied her in silence for a beat. Then, "Riven."

Her gaze snapped back to him. "I didn't tell you that."

"You look like a Riven," he said. "Like someone who cuts through things instead of going around them."

Something tightened in her chest. "You've known me for less than a minute."

"And yet you survived the first trial by doing exactly that."

"So did everyone else."

His eyes flicked toward the firelit crowd, the laughter that felt just a little too brittle. "Not everyone."

The words settled between them. Heavy. Ominous. Riven didn't ask who hadn't survived.

After a moment, she asked, "Should I eat?"

Jace followed her gaze to the food, studying it like it might study him back. "I did. I'm still breathing."

"You're probably an Alpha or something," she said lightly. "Hard to poison a walking apex predator."

"Glad you didn't say Omega," he replied, a flash of teeth in his smile. "Eat. I'm not lying to you."

Honesty was rare here. That alone made her suspicious.

She stood, brushing ash from her palms, and moved toward the tables. The shift in attention was immediate. Conversations dipped. Eyes followed her. Some curious. Some predatory. Some calculating how she might fit into their plans or how useful she might be as leverage.

She took a plate. Not much. Bread. A small portion of meat. She chose a seat far from the densest clusters, half in shadow, half in firelight. Jace didn't follow right away.

She ate slowly, listening.

"...she looks terrified..."

"...human wildcard, what were they thinking..."

"...pretty, though. Shame she won't last..."

Riven kept her head down, counting her bites, forcing herself to swallow. She wondered when she'd stop being a spectacle and start being a player.

Someone slid into the seat across from her. Her pale hair caught the firelight, almost glowing. Her eyes shimmered an unnatural blue, depthless and bright at the same time.

"Mind if I join you?" Fantasy asked, already smiling.

"You're already sitting," Riven said.

Fantasy laughed softly. "I like you."

"That makes one of us." Riven hesitated, then asked, "Is Fantasy actually your name?"

Fantasy's smile didn't falter. "Does it matter?"

Riven glanced past her, catching Jace watching them from across the clearing, his posture casual, his attention anything but. "It tells me you're not here to be honest."

Fantasy followed her gaze, head tilting. "Stay away from him."

"That's your advice?"

"He's dangerous," Fantasy said lightly. "He can't be your love interest. Look else where."

Riven nodded, setting her plate aside. "I'm not looking for anything here."

Fantasy's lips curved. "Then why are you here? Well, that's why this place is fun."

She rose and melted back into the crowd. Jace approached the moment she was gone.

"She wanted something from you," he said.

"Everyone does."

"And you?"

Riven stood. The fire cracked, sending sparks into the dark. "I want to make it through tomorrow."

"Ambitious," he murmured.

She turned to face him fully. "Why are you really here, Jace Draven?"

His gaze sharpened at the sound of his full name on her lips. "Stay away from Fantasy," he said after a pause. "She's collecting things."

"That's vague."

"It's meant to be."

Riven searched his face for mockery. Found none. Only warning. And something else she didn't want to name.

"Stay sharp, Riven," he added quietly. "Dinner is the easy part."

Then he walked away, leaving her alone with the fire, the cameras, and the uneasy realization that on a dating show built to sell love, danger seemed far more honest than affection.