A flicker of anger surged, but I swallowed it down. I had no idea why she was hostile. It was hard to believe that, as gentle and kind as Lucian was, someone from his pack could be so acerbic.
I met her gaze calmly. “Jessica, I’m not here to compete for anyone’s approval. Not even
Lucian’s-and he wouldn’t want me to. My purpose at OTS is the mission. I’m here to prove that Omegas, outcasts, underdogs-anyone deemed ‘less than’-can rise, can be recognized, can show the world their worth. That’s what matters.”
Her smile twisted, disbelief and disdain mingling. “Hypocrite,” she hissed. “You’re Alpha- born. Your brother is an Alpha. Your ex-husband is an Alpha. You’re fucking an Alpha.
You’ve had advantages I’m not even worthy to dream of. And you waltz in here and dare to act like you’re one of us? Stealing chances from Omegas who actually need them?”
I tilted my head, studying her.
She wasn’t just aggressive-she was wounded, defensive, and desperate to maintain a dominance she’d never experienced.
In a way, it humbled me. As shitty as my life was, there were others who had it worse.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jessica. But I haven’t-“
She lunged, quick and precise, but I sidestepped with an instinctive grace I didn’t know ! had, the momentum carrying her forward harmlessly.
The sound of shuffling feet and whispered gasps drew my attention. More and more trainees were gathering around, forming a loose circle, eager to watch.
“Everyone here has suffered rejection,” I said, raising my voice enough to carry over the murmurs. “Every single one of us. Whether we’re Omegas, wolfless, packless, or… Alpha- born, we all know what it’s like to be told we’re not enough. We didn’t come here to outshine each other. We didn’t come here to prove our worth to anyone else but ourselves.
We came to get stronger, to rise above the tides that tried to drown us. To become queens in our own right.”
A hush fell. Eyes widened. Whispers stopped. For a moment, it felt like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response.
The quiet was thick, heavy, and yet electric. I could see nods among a few Omegas, hesitant smiles, quiet acknowledgment in the eyes of trainees who had never imagined someone would give voice to their struggle so plainly.
Jessica blinked, expression flickering between irritation and surprise.
“Cheap words,” she said finally, voice dripping with scorn. “You think you can win hearts- or respect-with speeches? Don’t be na?ve, Seraphina. On the tournament grounds, no one’s going to waste time listening to your rambling”
I straightened, meeting her stare head-on, unwavering. “Maybe not. But you should be careful, Jessica. Because if you try to undermine OTS’ mission, if you let your petty jealousy and entitlement turn this noble cause into a joke…Lucian won’t let you off easy?
The words hit her like a slap, and I could see the momentary falter, a spark of unease behind her steely facade.
She clenched her jaw, a muscle twitching there as her eyes narrowed. But she didn’t back down.
“You think you’re clever,” she hissed, her body coiled like a spring, “but words don’t win tournaments.”
I gave a small, controlled smile. “No, they don’t. But sometimes words remind people why they started, what matters. You seem like you need to be reminded of that, Jessica. You need to be reminded that here, there’s no such thing as hierarchy. We are unique in our problems, but equal in our worth.”
Her breath hitched slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that I had hit a nerve. She didn’t smile this time. She didn’t lunge. But I could feel the tension in her, the fire in her stance, the readiness for confrontation that hadn’t dissipated.
The murmurs of agreement, soft at first, began to ripple through the crowd. Some trainees clapped quietly, others whispered affirmations. It was subtle, but it mattered. Even if
Jessica couldn’t see it yet, the effect of speaking my truth was already spreading.
Jessica’s nostrils flared, and she tilted her head, lips pressing into a line. “We’ll see,
Seraphina,” she said, almost a growl. “We’ll see who comes out on top. And don’t think for a second Lucian’s approval-or your lineage-will save you.”
I nodded once, firmly, and allowed a small smirk. “I don’t expect it to. No one but me can fight my battles.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she finally stepped aside. The current of tension lingered, a live wire, but the crowd around us seemed to settle, whispers blending with the faint hum of the locker room.
As I walked past her, shoulders squared, pulse steady, I realized something vital. Strength wasn’t just about muscle, speed, or training.
Strength was conviction. Belief in your own purpose. And somewhere over the last tr months, I’d gained a lot of that in abundance.
Jessica might have tried to intimidate me. She might have tested me with her gaze and her words. But in doing so, she had only reminded me why I was here-and why I could not be shaken.
Before I left the room, I glanced back at Jessica one last time. She was watching, lips pressed tight, and I allowed myself a small, private victory smile.
Let the Trials come. Let every eye be on us.
And let the world remember that sometimes, the quiet, overlooked ones are the fiercest of all.
SERAPHINA’S POV
After that lovely interaction in the locker room, I threw myself into training.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think that would be the last I heard of Jessica or the whis, and I was determined to be able to put my money where my mouth was.
So I pushed myself, harder than usual. By the time we were done, every ounce of strength had been wrung from me, leaving my body humming with fatigue-but my mind was still taut with the restless need to keep going.
But as I pushed myself up, ready to go another round of drills, Maya the Tormentor disappeared, and I got my best friend back.
And then she suggested we go on a shopping run.
I was just happy to see a smile that wasn’t immediately followed by, “Good. Now run that again a hundred times,” so I didn’t hesitate.
She bounced on her toes as if she hadn’t just run drills in the sun all morning, her braided ponytail swinging like she was part of a commercial,
I envied that boundless energy. My own legs felt like lead.
“Retail therapy,” Maya declared. “It’s the only cure for aching muscles and bruised egos.”
I arched a brow at her. “There it is.”
She shot me a ‘who, me?’ look, and I rolled my eyes.
“Nothing happens in OTS without you knowing, Maya. I wondered why you didn’t bring it up during training.”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about”
I snorted. “Yep, sure.”
I stopped and pointed a finger at her. “But for the record, my ego is perfectly intac thanks.”
She grinned, patting my arm. “That’s my girl.”
We stepped out into the warmth of the evening air, and she took a deep breath. “Now, what store do you want to hit first?”
***
One thing about Maya: no matter what she did-whether it was training drills or gossiping or shopping-she did it thoroughly.
She tugged me through the mall like a force of nature, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think the trial had a shopping challenge and this was another form of training.
One minute she had me shrugging into a sequined jacket under too-bright lights, the next slipping oversized sunglasses onto my face, cackling when they slid down my nose.
We sampled lipsticks, debated handbags, laughed until our sides hurt at Maya wobbling in a pair of ridiculous boots.
By the time we flopped onto a bench near the food court, arms weighed down with more of Maya’s bags than mine, I caught my reflection in a shop window-a light sheen of sweat from exertion, cheeks flushed from laughter.
I looked…alive.
That was when Maya pulled out her phone, eyes sparkling like she’d been saving a secret all along.
“Yes! It’s finally out.”
I glanced over curiously. “What?”
She showed me the screen. It was a compiled list of “top contenders” for the tourname… their names ranked, their profiles written like celebrity athlete bios.
It was arranged in descending order, and my eyes skimmed over the first few until they froze on one name.
Seraphina Blackthorne
A sudden churn tightened my stomach, the pretzel I’d snacked on earlier threatening to claw its way back up.
“Maya,” I whispered. “Why am I on this?”
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