"Ten minutes," Damon said, tossing his damp towel onto the equipment bench. "The trainer has a fresh ice compress waiting. Don't touch the sound system while I'm gone."
"I don't need your permission to adjust the tempo," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
A ghost of a smirk pulled at his mouth before he stepped out into the corridor, the heavy studio door swinging shut behind him.
The room felt suddenly hollow without his crushing cedar scent filling the air. My muscles burned from three hours of drills, every sinew in my calves singing with exhaustion. I needed air, and I needed water.
I grabbed my water bottle and pushed through the studio doors into the dimly lit hallway.
The corridor leading to the auxiliary wing was quiet, isolated from the bustling Grand Hall by two sets of heavy fire doors. The concrete floor cooled my bare feet through my thin dance socks. I took three steps toward the fountain before a shadow peeled away from the recessed alcove near the lockers.
Cole stepped directly into my path.
I stopped short, my grip tightening on the aluminum bottle. "Get out of my way."
He didn't move. He had discarded his charcoal suit jacket, wearing only a fitted black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His expression wasn't furious anymore. It was worse. It was calm, measured, and patronizingly patient.
"We need to talk, Ivy," Cole said, his voice dropping into that smooth, reasonable register he used when negotiating pack disputes. "Without your guard dog snarling in the middle of the room."
"Damon isn't my guard dog," I said, taking a step to the left to bypass him. "And we have nothing to talk about."
Cole shifted his weight, blocking the exit with his broad frame. "Stop running. You've made your point. You walked out, you threw a tantrum, and you paraded Black around to prove you could find a partner on short notice. Everyone saw. You've had your little rebellion."
The casual arrogance in his voice made my blood turn cold.
"My rebellion?" I asked. "Is that what you think this is?"
"What else could it be?" Cole asked, taking half a step closer. The scent of pine and fresh rain—the scent that had anchored my world for three years—drifted between us, but it no longer felt safe. It felt suffocating. "You're angry because of the roster announcement. I get it. I should have briefed you before the announcer took the mic."
"You didn't brief me because you're a coward," I said evenly. "You stole eighteen months of my choreography, handed it to my sister, and told me my biology was a liability."
"It's strategy, Ivy!" Cole pressed his hand against his sternum, his eyes searching mine with intense conviction. "The regional committee is stacked with traditionalist Beta judges this year. They hate Omega pairings. They see them as volatile. Vanessa gives us political leverage. She secures the pack’s standing, and she secures the Luna title beside me."
"Then enjoy your title," I said, my voice ice. "And let me pass."
"Listen to me," Cole urged, his voice softening into an intimate murmur. He stepped closer, closing the distance until I was nearly backed against the cold metal lockers. "Publicly choosing Vanessa doesn't mean I don't want you."
The breath caught in my throat. I stared at him, genuinely wondering if I had misheard.
"What did you just say?"
Cole reached out, his hand hovering inches from my cheek. "Vanessa is the political choice. She understands public appearances, she can manage council functions, and her scent won't stir up unrest among the elders. But she isn't you."
He lowered his chin, his dark eyes softening with a counterfeit tenderness that made my stomach heave.
"The tournament will end in a week," Cole continued, laying out his vision like a generous contract. "Vanessa takes the Luna mantle. We win the regional banner for Ashwood. But once the ceremony is over, you and I don't have to change anything. We keep our bond. We just keep it private."
The silence in the hallway felt suddenly razor-sharp.
"Private," I repeated, the word tasting like poison on my tongue.
"No one in the pack needs to know the details of our living arrangements," Cole said smoothly, entirely blind to the disgust hardening in my chest. "You'll have your own suite in the Alpha residence. I’ll make sure you have full access to the training facilities, whatever budget you want for your projects. You won't have to carry the stress of council duties. All you have to do is be there for me when the doors close."
There it was. Laid bare under the flickering fluorescent lights.
Vanessa got the crown, the respect, and the public glory of my work.
I was being offered the shadows. A hidden bed, private emotional labor, and the privilege of comforting the Alpha who had stabbed me in the back, all while curtsying to my sister in the daylight.
"And there's one condition," Cole added, his tone hardening slightly with habitual command. "You drop Damon Black immediately."
I didn't blink. "Drop him?"
"I won't tolerate another Alpha putting his hands on you," Cole snapped, his possessive jealousy finally breaking through his polished exterior. "I watched him touch your waist in there, Ivy. It made my skin crawl. He's a broken border rogue with no future in this pack. You letting him press his body against yours under the guise of dancing is an insult to me. Stop training with him. Today."
He paused, leaning in, his gaze burning into mine with terrifying entitlement.
"You can still be mine where no one has to see."
The words hung between us, vile and absolute.
I stood perfectly still. For three long seconds, I didn't breathe, didn't move, and didn't speak.
Cole watched my silence, and a small, confident smirk began to form at the corner of his lips. He took that stillness as surrender. For three years, whenever he had pushed me into a corner, I had gone quiet, swallowed my pride, and found an excuse for his cruelty. He thought the quiet girl was still inside me, waiting to be managed.
He reached his hand out, his fingers curling to cup my jaw.
I took a sharp, deliberate step backward.
His fingers caught empty air.
Before he could recover, I brought my left arm up, driving the flat of my forearm against his reaching wrist and shoving his hand violently out of my space. The sharp slap of skin against skin echoed down the concrete corridor.
Cole stumbled half a pace back, his smirk shattering instantly. "Ivy—"
"Don't you ever reach for me again," I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal register.
"Ivy, be sensible—"
"Sensible?" A humorless, razor-thin smile touched my lips. "You really stood there and thought I would thank you. You actually believed I'd spend my life sneaking through back hallways, waiting for Vanessa to fall asleep so you could slip into my bed."
"It's a compromise!" Cole hissed, his face flushing dark red. "I'm offering you a place by my side!"
"You're offering me a cage in the dark," I said, holding his furious gaze without flinching. "You took my routine because you thought I was weak. You gave my sweat to my sister because you thought an Omega had no voice to fight back. And now you want to keep using me behind closed doors so you don't lose the comfort you never earned."
I took another step back, creating a gulf of cold air between us.
"There are no secret meetings, Cole. There is no private bond. And there is no 'us.' The second you put your hand in Vanessa's on that floor, you forfeited every right to my life."
Cole’s chest heaved, his Alpha aura flaring with desperate, wounded rage. "You belong to me! You can't just give three years away to a broken—"
Heavy, unhurried footsteps sounded against the concrete behind him.
Cole choked on his words, his head whipping around.
Damon stood ten feet away, emerging from the dim corridor. His black shirt was still unbuttoned, a thick ice pack strapped securely over his right clavicle with wide elastic wraps. His dark hair was damp, his scarred face unreadable.
He didn't yell. He didn't demand to know what Cole was doing. He didn't even look at Cole.
Damon’s dark, lethal eyes moved past the Alpha and locked entirely onto me.
He waited. He didn't assume I needed saving, and he didn't bark orders to drag me away. He simply stood his ground, offering his presence as a choice, waiting for my signal.
The knot of tension in my ribs loosened.
I looked at Damon, meeting his steady gaze, and gave him a single, clear nod.
Only then did Damon step forward.
He closed the distance in two long strides, bypassing Cole as if the pack's golden Alpha were nothing more than an empty locker. Damon stopped directly at my side, his shoulder nearly brushing mine, his dark cedar scent completely washing away the bitter stench of Cole’s panic.
Cole stared at us, his mouth slightly open, his fists trembling against the seams of his trousers.
"Ivy," Cole whispered, the command entirely drained from his voice, replaced by raw, frantic disbelief. "Don't do this."
I didn't answer him. I didn't even look his way.
"Come on," I said quietly to Damon, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. "We still have the reverse spin to finish."
"Lead the way," Damon answered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
I turned on my heel and walked down the hall toward the studio. Damon fell in beside me, matching my stride beat for beat, his solid, unyielding frame anchoring my left side.
Behind us, Cole stood frozen in the middle of the empty corridor, suffocating in the silence, watching his chosen mate walk away at the side of another Alpha.