The Advanced Pack Tactics classroom was built like an amphitheater, with stone tiers that made every seat feel like a stage. Elara, Miri, and Tobias took their usual places in the far back corner, hoping the shadows of the heavy rafters would offer some protection.
It was a vain hope.
Sarina sat three rows down, surrounded by her "inner circle"—daughters of the Gamma and Delta lines who moved in a synchronized pack of silk and arrogance. As the instructor, a scarred veteran named Commander Horen, turned to write on the chalkboard, Sarina leaned over the back of her chair.
"I heard the Beta spent the morning in the treasury," Sarina said, her voice carrying easily through the quiet room. "I suppose he's checking to see if he has enough gold to bribe someone into claiming Elara tonight. Since fate clearly isn't going to do the heavy lifting for an Omega."
The girls around her snickered, their eyes darting back to Elara with clinical coldness.
"Maybe he can buy her a personality while he's at it," one of the sidekicks whispered. "Though no amount of gold can fix an Omega's scent. It's so... flat."
Miri's hand tightened around her stylus until the wood creaked. "Keep talking, Sarina," she muttered under her breath. "Eventually, you'll say something smart by accident."
"Ignore them," Tobias whispered, though his jaw was tight.
But Sarina wasn't done. She stood up under the guise of sharpening a pencil, sashaying past Elara's desk. She leaned down, her perfume cloying and sweet. "Just a tip, Elara. When the moon reaches its peak tonight, try to stand near the back. We wouldn't want the Alpha's coronation photos ruined by a Beta who looks like a frightened rabbit. Try not to embarrass your father more than you already have."
The classroom door opened, and a sudden hush fell over the room. Jarrius and Jamin entered, late from a briefing with the Council.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Sarina's predatory sneer transformed into a dazzling, practiced smile. She didn't return to her seat; instead, she intercepted them in the center aisle, her eyes locked solely on the future Alpha.
"Jarrius," Sarina purred, her voice dropping into a melodic lilt. She reached out, her fingers grazing the sleeve of his jacket—a bold move, but she acted as if the space beside him was already hers by right. "I was just telling the girls how much we're looking forward to your speech tonight. The pack needs a leader who understands that power belongs with power."
Jarrius stopped, his expression as unreadable as a cliff face. He didn't pull away, but he didn't lean in either. He looked down at her with a cold, analytical gaze, as if she were a report he was skimming for errors. To him, she was a high-ranking asset, a box to be checked in the pack's future.
"The pack needs stability, Sarina," Jarrius said, his voice deep and devoid of warmth. "Everything else is secondary."
"Of course," she breathed, her eyes flashing with a competitive fire. She stood there, basking in the fact that he was standing with her, making sure every girl in the room saw her proximity to the throne. To Sarina, tonight was simply a formal confirmation of what she already believed: she was the only one in the room fit to stand beside an Alpha.
Throughout the exchange, Jamin stood a few paces behind his brother. He didn't join the conversation, and he didn't indulge the girls who were trying to catch his eye. He stood with his arms crossed, his gaze drifting away from the spectacle in the aisle.
He looked toward the back of the room, his eyes scanning the rows until they found the small group of outcasts. He watched the way Elara sat, her shoulders square despite the whispers, and then his gaze moved back to Sarina's hand on his brother's arm.
A small, almost invisible flicker of distaste crossed Jamin's face. He didn't say a word, but the way he looked on—detached and slightly weary of the performance—made him seem miles away from the theater of the classroom.
"Take your seats," Teacher Horen barked, tapping the board.
Sarina gave Jarrius one last lingering look before retreating to her desk, her head held high. Jarrius moved to the front row, his back a wall of indifference to everyone behind him. He didn't look back; he didn't need to. He was the center of the world, and everyone else was just background noise to be managed.
Elara looked down at her desk, her heart heavy with the cold reality of the pack's hierarchy. Under the table, the heat in her palms surged again. It was becoming harder to suppress, a rhythmic thrumming that felt like a drumbeat in her marrow.
Power belongs with power, Sarina had said.
Elara closed her eyes. You have no idea what power is, she thought. But you're about to find out.