Her teammates snickered on cue, voices dripping venom.
“Had to have been luck.”
“They won’t last another round.”
“Losers dragging losers to the finish line-pathetic.”
I was used to condescending barbs, and they all bounced off my skin like rubber pellets. But I couldn’t say the same for my team.
For Talia, who shrank into herself. For Finn, whose expression shuttered. For Judy, who tensed like she was preparing to leap across the table.
And for Roxy, who slammed her palm down with a crack, rattling the dishes on the table. “Shut the fuck up!”
For an instant, pride surged in me as the Roxy I knew surfaced. But then Jessica’s eyes narrowed, cold and lethal, pinning Roxy in place.
And Roxy shrank. Shoulders hunching, glare faltering, her defiance withering under the weight of Jessica’s dominance.
“Yikes,” Jessica laughed. “Not you cowering. You’re spending too much time with the weak, Roxy; that shit rubs off on you.”
My chest burned as I rose, my chair scraping harshly against the floor. “That’s enough, Jessica.”
Her gaze snapped to me, disdain curling her lips. “Oooh, Seraphina.” She cocked her head to the side and widened her eyes. “Am I getting another lecture?”
Damn right, she was.
“You’ve completely forgotten the point of this trial,” I said, voice steady though my pulse thundered, “The
LST wasn’t made for us to claw at each other. It was made to raise OTS higher. To prove that the weakest of us can stand with-or against-the strongest in any pack. You’re an Omega,”-1 swept my hand toward my team-“just like them. Why you feel the need to lord over your equals is beyond me.”
Her smirk faltered, ever so slightly.
“You want to mock us?” I pressed, stepping closer. “Fine. But remember this: of all the OTS squads, only two remain. Yours. And ours. That means our duty isn’t just to ourselves-it’s to OTS. And I’ll be damned if I let you drag its honor through the mud because of your overinflated sense of self.”
For a moment, silence stretched taut as a bowstring. Jessica’s jaw tightened, and I could see anger bristling through her like a storm.
Her team shifted behind her, glancing at themselves uncomfortably. I arched a brow, waiting for a comeback.
Finally, she leaned in so close I could smell the mint on her breath. “The only team dragging OTS’s name through the mud is yours,” she sneered. “But don’t worry, OTS will win.”
She leaned back and folded her arms. “But it will be my team that leads us to victory.”
Judy snorted, and Jessica shot her a sharp look.
Judy smiled and gave her the middle finger salute.
Jessica rolled her eyes and, with a sharp turn of her heel, snapped, “Enjoy your tiny win while it lasts. The real victory will be mine.”
Her team followed in her wake, leaving the sting of her words behind.
None of us moved till the door swung shut behind them.
Then, I turned back to my squad.
“We made it this far,” I said quietly, shooting each of them a confident smile. “And we’ll go further. Together.”
Judy grinned fiercely, lifting her glass in the air. Finn met my eyes and gave a quiet, confident nod. Talia’s eyes glistened, and she blinked away tears, her smile wide.
Even Roxy, though silent, sat up straighter and met my gaze with a flicker of respect, her posture no longer withdrawn.
And despite Jessica’s taunts and barbs, my faith that we could win only grew stronger,
After all, winning wouldn’t be any fun if there was no one’s face to rub it in.
SERAPHINA’S POV
By the time I made it back home, exhaustion had sunk deep into my bones, and my body ached in all the familiar places.
But my heart felt light, and the excitement bubbling inside me refused to let me collapse straight into bed.
For a long moment, I lay staring at the dark ceiling, replaying the day like a reel I couldn’t stop.
The first rush of dread as we stepped into the Misty Woods. The icy spike of fear when we stumbled on Roxy, half-drowned in the marsh. The taut thread of tension with William’s team.
And then-finally-the dizzying relief of clutching that last moonstone in my hands, of realizing we had actually passed.
Not even the brief stint with Jessica could dull my happiness.
My hands instinctively reached for my phone, but a pang went through me when I realized that I could neither tell Maya nor Lucian about it.
Ugh.
So, instead, I dug out my encrypted phone and called the one other person I wanted to talk to that I actually could.
The screen lit up with Daniel’s name, and before the first ring even ended, his small, sleepy face appeared, framed by the dim golden glow of the lamp in his room.
“Mom!” His voice pitched high, his eyes lighting up with an energy that flooded me with warmth.
I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. “Hi, my baby! I have good news!”
“I already know!” He lifted up a paper, waving it so close to the camera that all I could see was a chaotic splash of blue and silver crayon. “Grandma and Grandpa told me when they heard the announcer say your team’s name! You won, Mom! You did it!”
I blinked. “Wait-you mean…you were watching?” Christian and Leona were watching?
Daniel pulled the paper back, finally revealing the entire picture to me.
It was a child’s sketch of five figures holding up a star-shaped stone, with messy letters scrawled across the top: Team 7 Champions.
Crayons filled the page with wild joy-blue for the mist, silver for the shard, yellow for the badges.
But what caught me most were the little additions in the corner-my son’s careful handwriting: Drawn by
Daniel, Grandma, and Grandpa.
I stared at the words. “They helped you draw this?”
“Uh-huh!” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as if we were trading secrets. “Grandma did the shiny part. Grandpa said the trees should be bigger, so he drew them. But I told them only I can draw you,”- his eyes twinkled-“cause you’re mine.”(1)
My throat tightened, the sting of unexpected tears pricking my eyes. “And…what did they say? About the competition?”
“That you’re amazing. That you’re… They said they’re proud of you.” Daniel leaned closer, his grin covering more than half the screen. “Me too, Mommy. I’m the proudest.”
For a moment, I was too busy reeling from the information to process the end of his sentence.
Pride. From Leona. From Christian.
The same Leona who had once looked at me like I was a stain on her family name.
The same Christian who had cornered me with cold disapproval at every turn.
It should have meant more. Maybe once, it would have. But I was no longer that affection-starved girl who’d been desperate for my in-laws’ approval.
So, tonight, I just nodded and tucked the thought into the quiet part of me, where I had started storing things
I wasn’t ready to examine.
Their pride didn’t matter, not anymore. Only Daniel’s did.
“Thank you, my love, and thank you for the drawing,” I whispered. I pressed my fingertips to the screen, wishing I could touch his warm little face through it. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Mom!” he chirped. “And I’ll keep rooting for you, okay?”
I nodded, blinking back tears. “Thank you, baby.”
His smile stretched wider, then a yawn swallowed it whole. “Okay. Goodnight, Mommy. Win the next round, too, okay? Then I’ll make an even bigger drawing.”
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