"You're disqualified, Reed. We're done here."
He steps closer. Close enough that no one else hears. "Or are you done pretending?"
For half a second, she forgot to breathe.
Then—
"I was sabotaged."
"The rules—"
"Two recruits tied a rope to my ankle in open water." She kept her voice low and male and steady even though she wanted to scream. "That's not losing. That's assault."
Rodrigo looked at her with the specific patience of someone who had made a decision and was waiting for her to finish before he walked away.
"Last two to finish are disqualified," he said. "No footnotes."
"They cheated—"
"Every trial has variables. Managing those variables is part of the test." He tilted his head slightly. "You didn't manage them."
"I nearly drowned."
"And yet here you are." He spread his hands. "You're welcome."
She stared at him.
He looked back. Completely calm. That small private smile she was starting to genuinely hate.
He knew. She could see it in every line of his face. He'd known since the lineup, since her scent hit him before she'd even spoken, and he was standing here running this whole performance because he wanted to see what she'd do.
She opened her mouth to try again.
Then from the group behind her — loud, carrying, designed to be heard:
"Accept defeat, little boy. Not everyone's built for this."
Laughter. A few of them. Enough.
She didn't turn around. She knew the voice. Vey. She'd been clocking it since the water, filing it away.
Later, she thought. Not now.
But then:
"Vey."
Zarek's voice. Not loud. Just landing.
She turned.
Zarek was standing with his arms crossed and his drink still in his hand looking at Cain Vey with an expression that was almost friendly. Almost.
"You seem to have a lot to say tonight." He tilted his head. "Come spar with me. Right now. Let's hear more of it."
Cain Vey looked at him. Then at the space between them. Then at his shoes.
"Didn't think so," Zarek said pleasantly.
He looked across at her for exactly one second — quick, almost nothing, just a check — and then looked away.
The group went quiet.
Rodrigo hadn't moved. Still looking at her. Still waiting.
"The answer is no, Reed," he said. Not unkind. Just final. "Pack up and—"
"The mating ritual," she said.
Everything stopped.
She didn't say it loud. Just at a volume for him and nobody else, and she watched the words land on his face and had exactly one second to decide if she was actually doing this.
She was doing this.
She stepped forward and her foot caught — or looked like it did — and she grabbed his sleeve on the way down.
He caught her automatically. His hand closed around her arm solid and sure and she used the momentum to get her mouth close to his ear before he could straighten up.
"Listen to me," she said. Low. Fast. Fake voice gone. "You can't disqualify me."
His grip tightened on her arm.
"I know you recognised me," she said. "I knew the second you looked at me in the lineup. You knew before I even spoke." She felt him go very still. "And here's the problem with that."
"Don't," he said quietly.
"I'm registered as your mate. Pack registry. Official record. The mating ritual we did at the castle — the one your wedding planners started and the goddess wolves completed — it's filed. It passed." She looked up at him through her lashes, keeping her face neutral for the crowd. "I know you tried to get it annulled. I know the priestess told you it was impossible without both parties present."
His jaw went tight.
She watched his face the way she'd watched targets for eight months. Waiting for the crack.
There it was.
"Imagine," she said, "your real bride coming back and finding out you already completed the mating ritual with someone else. That it passed. That it's in the registry under your name." She paused. "How does that conversation go?"
He said nothing.
"I know a way to fix it," she said. "Both of us. Together. I have a contact." She let that sit for one second. "So don't disqualify me. And I'll help you sort your little bride problem."
He looked at her.
She looked back.
Thirty recruits behind them thinking this was a trainer steadying a recruit. Neither of them moving. His hand still on her arm.
"You came to my training program," he said. Very quiet. "In a fake beard. To blackmail me."
"I came to your training program to become alpha," she said. "The blackmail is a bonus. And try to keep up. If the other wolves find out you're a woman, you're out."
Something moved in his face.
Not anger.
Something closer to — impressed. Reluctant. Like he didn't want to feel it and felt it anyway.
He let go of her arm. Stepped back. Turned to the group.
The fire crackled. Someone across the group laughed at something unrelated. The world kept going.
Rodrigo looked at her for a long time.
She held it. Didn't blink. Didn't look away.
He was not scared of her leverage. She could see that clearly. He was interested in her. In the fight. In the fact that she'd gotten this far and was still standing here negotiating in wet clothes and a peeling beard instead of walking away.
She had one card.
She was playing it like a full hand and he respected that.
"Fine," he said.
He straightened up. Looked at the remaining group.
"Pack up," he said. "Trial's over. Results posted tomorrow. Go home."
The recruits started leaving, still laughing and joking about the "weak boy."
Recruits moved. Grabbed jackets, found shoes, drifted toward the path. Cain Vey left without looking at her. She watched him go and added tomorrow to his name in her head.
When the beach was mostly clear Rodrigo turned back.
"You outswam twelve recruits in soaking clothes," he said. Not a compliment. A statement. "Got sabotaged by two more and still almost made it. And when you lost you didn't walk away. You found a different angle." He looked at her. "That's more useful than finishing first. In this program."
"So I'm in."
"You're getting a retest." He held up one finger. "Private. My terms. My trial. You pass, you're in. You fail, the leverage disappears with you and we never had this conversation."
"When."
"You'll find out tomorrow." Almost a smile. "That's also part of it."
"That's not fair."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
He turned to his brothers. Kruze had been watching the whole conversation with the focused stillness of someone who'd heard every word. Zarek was finishing his drink and pretending not to pay attention, which meant he was paying the most.
"Take her back," Rodrigo said. "She's freezing."
Zarek raised his cup. "Happy to—"
He turned and walked away a few steps, then stopped and turned back like he'd remembered something important.
"Oh, and for the re-test," he said, voice low and deliberate, "since I'll be using my ample time… have your little human boyfriend ready. Jayden, right? He's the perfect prey. Let's see if you can save him in time too. Prove you can be an alpha."
Zarek whistled low. "He's in a mood tonight. Jealousy looks good on him."
Kruze's thumb pressed his band harder than usual. "He's not the only one feeling it."
Daciana's stomach dropped.
Rodrigo gave her one last look — dark, challenging, almost amused — then walked off without another word.
Zarek and Kruze stepped up beside her.
Zarek whistled low. "He's in a mood tonight."
Kruze's thumb pressed his band. "Let's get you home. You're freezing."
Daciana stood there, soaked, shaking, the cold wind biting into her skin.
She had survived the night.
But tomorrow's re-test was going to be a whole different kind of hell — and Jayden was going to be the bait.