The crisp morning air bit at Trinity's exposed skin, doing little to settle the knot of unease coiling in her gut. She stood in the vast, open field behind the Warrior House, its neatly mown expanse a stark contrast to the wild unknown that lay ahead. Around her, a buzzing murmur of voices filled the pre-game tension. Teams were loosely assembling, their members sizing each other up. Trinity's gaze drifted across the field, searching for an anchor, a familiar face, but found only the vague outlines of strangers. The sting of Thomas's maneuver, splitting the Defectives and forbidding them from grouping, still stung. Yet, despite the rules, an unspoken gravity pulled all the Defectives together, their eyes meeting in a silent, shared question: Now what?
Jess, however, didn't share the collective apprehension that clung to the other Defectives like a shroud. Her focus was singular: Noah. Trinity's dramatic outburst had been Jess's opportunity, a chance to deepen the connection she'd been meticulously cultivating with him. That night, she'd sought him out, finding solace in his quiet strength and a peculiar charm that, in its own Wolfie way, she found utterly endearing. Throughout the relentless tasks and challenges of their training, Noah had been her silent protector, subtly guiding her, offering a helping hand whenever he could. Today was no different. Her glances towards him were almost imperceptible, a quiet plea for direction amidst the forming chaos.
Noah, on the other hand, felt a familiar smirk tug at the corner of his lips. His careful machinations were blossoming precisely as he'd planned. This was his final day assisting Thomas with the class, the last hurdle before his punishment concluded and he could reclaim his own rigorous training schedule. If he intended to make a move on Jess, time was fleeting; she wouldn't be so easily swayed once he was no longer a constant presence in her immediate vicinity. He fixed his gaze on the first group to fully form, the one he'd less-than-subtly nudged towards choosing Jess. His eyes landed on Caldera, the group's designated leader, and Noah offered a mockingly innocent smirk.
"Hey you, black-haired defective, you're with us," Caldera intoned, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. The forced nature of the Defective selection still rankled him; he hadn't even had the chance to choose. If he was to be saddled with dead weight, he at least wanted it to be tantalizing. Rumors of Mona's "soft lips" had reached him, and he yearned to discover just how wide her mouth could stretch.
Both Trinity and Jess looked up in unison. Trinity recoiled internally; she knew nothing of this wolf, and his demeanor certainly wasn't inviting. Jess, however, hesitated, wondering if this was the group Noah had orchestrated for her. She hadn't asked for kindness, she'd demanded victory. She wanted to win, to prove her worth, to rise above the mediocrity of her peers, to show them she was truly different.
"You!" Caldera pointed directly at Jess, his brow furrowed in question.
A bright smile bloomed on Jess's face as she strode confidently towards her new team, a prickle of smug satisfaction warming her. She was the first chosen, even if her ascent had been paved with subtle, underhanded maneuvers.
As more groups solidified, a few began to circle the remaining Defectives, a spirited, almost predatory discussion ensuing over who would be picked next. Trinity felt a humiliating resemblance to a trading card, a commodity to be exchanged and bartered for. She was at the center of it, and, to her dismay, most of the groups seemed to want her.
"She's with me!" Lucas growled, his voice a possessive rumble as he seized Trinity's wrist in a firm, unyielding grip, pulling her towards his waiting group. He inhaled deeply, drawing in her natural pheromones, a scent that stirred both him and his inner wolf. It wasn't the heady, overwhelming fragrance of heat, but it was no less intoxicating. The other wolves in the vicinity raised their eyebrows in shocked confusion. Lucas wasn't merely stating his team's choice; he was staking a primal claim, demanding that any other wolf with ideas of pursuing Trinity back off. At least until he was finished.
Trinity bristled at being manhandled. She yanked her wrist, trying to free herself from Lucas's iron grip. The name clicked then; she vaguely recognized him. The Alpha's son. The "crazy one" who'd lost his composure during dinner.
"Get off me!" Trinity hissed, her voice laced with anger, as she continued to struggle, unsuccessfully.
Lucas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his chest. It was enticing, dark, weighted with unspoken meaning, but Trinity stubbornly ignored it, attributing the sensation to her own paranoia. Once Lucas reached his group, he finally released her wrist. Trinity spun around, glaring at him, while meticulously inspecting her wrist for any damage. His grip had been unyielding, yet surprisingly lacked painful pressure.
"I don't want to be on your team," Trinity spat, wanting nothing more than to run to any other group, anyone but this unhinged wolf.
"Trinity, the other teams are full," Lucas stated with unnerving confidence.
She glanced around, and indeed, every other group had fallen into formation, their ranks complete. She was trapped. A slow, triumphant smirk spread across Lucas's lips. He leaned down, his voice a low whisper in her ear. "I guess you're all mine."
"Your disgusting." Trinity seethed, her voice laced with venom. He clearly believed his actions were charismatic, that being the Alpha's son somehow excused his possessive behavior. He acted like an overgrown toddler clutching a forbidden toy, completely oblivious to how unappealing he truly was.
"Don't mind him, he's a bit... much sometimes," Johnny interjected, a nervous laugh escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Seeing Johnny, a flicker of ease softened Trinity's expression. She moved to stand beside him, hoping his presence would somehow shield her from Lucas's unsettling intensity.
"So you've met Lucas. This is Simon, and Dylan," Johnny said, gesturing to the other two, who had remained silent. Dylan gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. Before focusing forward.
Simon, however, regarded Trinity with thinly veiled suspicion. His family had issued stern warnings: stay far away from Defectives, avoid entanglement in their messy lives. His father had even explicitly reminded him that while Defectives might seem like convenient outlets for "sexual frustrations," the scandal wasn't worth it. He'd been told not just to avoid them, but to keep his "dick from slipping inside one of them." A challenging feat, he realized, after seeing the three Defective girls. They weren't overtly gorgeous, but the temptation was like dangling chocolate before a starving man. He was famished, and that unexpected hunger was already warping his behavior. He lacked Johnny's restraint, the understanding forged from having a Defective sister (though even Johnny seemed to show a budding interest in Trinity). And he certainly wasn't Lucas, whose bloodline insulated him from scandal. Simon's family wasn't the lowest on the totem pole, but their status wasn't high enough to dismiss the whispers of ignorant minds.
"Hi," Trinity offered them.
Simon felt his breath catch in his chest. The soft lilt of her voice, the faint blush dusting her cheeks, her petite stature—she seemed so small, so breakable, so easily controlled. So easily broken. Everything about her, everything about her kind, was alluring to him. His very presence felt overpowering, dominating something so fragile.
He could only grunt in reply, words failing him.
Trinity found herself wondering if Johnny was the only "normal" wolf in their class. Lucas was clearly unhinged, Simon was intensely silent, and the others she'd encountered had been angry, stubborn, or just plain rude. Perhaps there was some inherent gene that made them all so irritating.
Mona found herself on a team comprised solely of boys. It wasn't entirely unexpected, given the male-to-female ratio in their class, but a tremor of unease still ran through her. Barely ten seconds had passed before a crass comment was made. She knew she invited the ridicule; her arrangement, trading sex for a semblance of peace, was hardly anonymous. But in that moment, she longed for absolute obscurity. She tried to channel her inner Trinity, to stand tall and proud, repeating a mantra in her head: You owe them nothing. They can all eat shit. You are amazing.
Ryan felt a nervous flutter for his friends. If they proved to be a liability to their teams, he knew the other wolves would retaliate with unforgiving vengeance. Grudges, once formed, were held forever. He was less concerned about himself. Among the Defectives, he was a standout. Trinity was sought after for her intriguing defiance and undeniable beauty. But for him, it was different. The groups that desired him knew he could hold his own. His ego had swelled during the course, even though Johnny was Jess's brother, Ryan refused to be perceived as the weakest link, or for their success to hinge solely on Johnny's strength. Ryan knew he could contribute his own power to the team.
He glanced at Mona, offering a quick thumbs-up, a silent query of her well-being. She returned a faint smile and a nod. He repeated the gesture with each of the Defectives until his gaze landed on Jess. A flicker of confusion, then conflict, stirred within him. Jess had been chosen so quickly, an anomaly. She was capable, yes, but also notoriously lazy, always seeking shortcuts.
Most wolves considered her an absolute slacker, making her swift selection incredibly odd. It made him wonder if she was being used, like Mona. Though Mona hadn't spoken of it, Ryan had heard whispers of her arrangement with a second-stager. Now, he wondered about Jess. Was she doing the same? Was it Noah? Ryan forcefully quelled the rising tide of unease. Jess wasn't his anymore. She was a friend. He had drawn that line, and he couldn't walk it back simply because he disliked what he saw.
Against all odds, Trinity felt a burgeoning excitement. The original purpose of the Defectives' presence in the Warrior House had been humiliation and punishment, yet, surprisingly, she was enjoying herself. The turn of events had caught her off guard. In a strange way, this felt like the summer camp she'd never experienced.Noticing that all the Defectives had been assigned to teams, Thomas cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.
"Your next task is Shifting Sands. It's simple enough. This is a battle roulette. Each team will need to choose one of their members to be the Prize. Choose wisely. Everyone will be hunting that part of your team."
He watched as each team deliberated, a low murmur of reasoned arguments filling the air. Some argued for choosing their strongest member, believing they could best defend themselves. Others, however, leaned towards making their Defectives the Prize, deeming them least useful in direct combat. Unsurprisingly, almost every team opted to make their Defective the Prize, save for a couple who selected their strongest members instead.
"Get familiar with the people who have been chosen to be the Prize."
Trinity, sensing an underlying complexity to Thomas's seemingly simple game, successfully convinced her team that she should be the Prize. She watched as wolves from other teams took deep, scent-gathering breaths, committing the unique aroma of each Prize to memory.
"Team leaders, step forward." A single individual from each team stepped forward. "You will have five minutes to direct your team on how to proceed. What you discuss is up to you."
The groups scattered, moving towards their designated starting points within the large, dense forest. The trees, impossibly tall and thick, created a dense canopy overhead, plunging the interior into a perpetual twilight. Massive, gnarled tree limbs, thick as a person's thigh, snaked across the forest floor, ready to trip an unwary foot. The sheer density of the vegetation meant that visibility was almost nil; no team could see another once they entered the oppressive depths. There were only five groups in this first round.
Trinity, propelled by an innate urgency, sprinted to her team's section, leaving some of her slower teammates to walk. Upon arrival, she quickly surveyed the designated area. A small cache of supplies lay waiting: swords, what appeared to be paintball guns, and a bandana emblazoned with the number "3" – their team's identifier. She registered the supplies, but her eyes snagged on something else: silver wire and a folded map.
"Begin!" Thomas's voice echoed through the trees, somehow amplified despite the dense foliage. He stood at the perimeter, a tablet in hand, its screen displaying feeds from small, discreet cameras hidden throughout the forest. Each section was visible, their unfolding strategies laid bare to his scrutiny. The timer on his tablet began its silent countdown.
Lucas snatched the map, unfolding it. Teams two and four were closest, but team one was directly ahead. Each team was roughly a kilometer apart, and Lucas suspected Thomas had riddled the forest with traps and obstacles.
"Alright, I think we should go ahead and attack team two." Lucas picked up a sword, testing its weight, executing a few cursory swings.
Johnny and Simon followed his lead, each grabbing a sword. Trinity, recognizing the disparity in brute strength, picked up a paintball gun, assuming it was meant for the Defectives, a meager attempt at leveling the playing field. She waited for Lucas to elaborate on his plan, but that seemed to be it. Trinity's gut screamed that it was a terrible idea, but she wasn't the leader.
Refusing to be dragged down by an inefficient leader, she grabbed the silver wire. With quick, deft movements, she wrapped sections of it around her arms, legs, and torso, carefully ensuring it touched only the fabric of her clothing, not her skin.
"What are you doing?" Johnny asked, curiosity piqued.
"Just a backup plan," Trinity replied, though in her mind, it was the only plan. Rushing in blindly was never a viable option. "What would I do to not smell like myself?" she asked them.
"I mean, I could put my scent on you," Johnny offered, a touch of awkwardness in his voice.
"How?"
Johnny cleared his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. "Rub myself on you. To transfer the scent."
Trinity took a decisive step forward, stopping him. The other teams would have Defectives too, and if any of them paused to listen, if they were hunting her and smelled Johnny's scent twice, they'd know it was her.
"Simon, right? You do it."
Simon knew he shouldn't. His family's warnings had been abundantly clear. But all reason fled the moment she spoke his name, commanding him. He stepped closer, feeling as if he were bathing in the most alluring scent imaginable. He tried to keep the act from feeling sensual or seductive, but it was proving difficult. He gripped the back of her neck, his thumb caressing the soft skin just below her ear, his palms tracing the delicate curve of her throat, mesmerized by its fragility. He gave an unnecessary squeeze, a small assertion of his growing control. His fingers threaded through her hair, over and over, feeling its unexpected softness. He even wrapped the thick strands around his fist, inhaling deeply, and held it at the base of her neck, savoring the moment as his scent thoroughly coated her strands. All the while, he met her gaze. Her eyes, a startling blue, were wide and framed by thick lashes. He knew her stare as innocent, but to him, it was a profound temptation, pulling him deeper into an act he knew was wrong, yet felt so undeniably right.
Lucas watched, torn between fury and arousal, as Simon meticulously transferred his scent onto Trinity. There wasn't an inch of her he didn't touch. He watched as Simon's hands trailed over her arms, her back, her torso. Careful to avoid the silver she'd wrapped around herself. Simon's hands hovered over her breasts for a moment, as if debating, before he finally decided against it. He pulled her into a slow, deliberate embrace, pressing his body against hers to ensure his scent fully transferred to her front. His hands roamed her back, curious of the smooth, skin beneath the fabric. Then, with a possessive grip on her waist, his hands nearly encompassing its entirety, he smoothly flipped her around, eliciting a light gasp from her lips at the sudden movement. As she faced away, he pushed gently but firmly on her back, forcing her to arch against him as he continued the scent transfer. Each movement was deliberate, an assertion of his will, a silent claim. He had to fight back his predatory smile.
Johnny felt himself stiffen, a dark, unfamiliar urge to break his best friend's hands rising within him. He'd never felt such a surge of possessive anger before.
"That should do it," Simon's husky voice murmured, pulling away from Trinity with visible reluctance. His palm possessively poised over the small expansive skin on her midrift lingering suggestively.
A blush spread across Trinity's cheeks and neck. It wasn't an attraction to Simon, but the sheer proximity. And the way his breath dipped, the expert level seduction. It was thrilling and strangely hypnotic. Definitely erotic for him. Trinity had been entirely wrong about Simon; she'd thought him quiet, perhaps even shy. Now, she had the distinct impression that she understood him in an entirely new way.
She couldn't help when a laugh burst through her throat. She was a bit uncomfortable, which made her laugh awkwardly. It's one thing to be seduced, a whole another thing to do it in front of three sets of eyes.
"Uh, yeah, I'm ready," Trinity said, looking up at Lucas.
Lucas felt a peculiar sense of imbalance. He was supposed to be the leader, yet somehow, for the first time, without much effort, Simon and Trinity seemed to have taken control. He was supposed to be the one pulling her attention.
Author's note:
It's always the quite ones!