Chapter 6 The Rival’s Game

Kael POV

I hate being told what to do, but when Instructor Noir gives an order, you listen. That man has a way of making your intuitions crawl, like he already knows what you're thinking.

So, yeah. I followed the kid.

Elias Quinn. The name had been repeating itself in my head since yesterday. Instructor Noir wanted eyes on him, and apparently, I was it. Not that I was complaining. Watching people is… a skill. And I liked experimenting with limits.

I found him in the sparring hall first thing in the morning. He was barely awake, rubbing his hands like he’d just woken from a nightmare. Or maybe he was calm because he’d already planned for this. That thought alone made me grin.

“Morning, Quinn,” I called out, leaning lazily against the wall. “Ready for a lesson?”

He glanced up, looking calm and unshaken. “Depends,” he said quietly. “Are you planning on teaching me, or embarrassing yourself?”

I blinked. Then I laughed. That was cute. Not many had that kind of courage….or stupidity. Either way, it was perfect.

“Let’s see how much control you really have,” I said. “Form up.”

We squared off. Wooden swords, nothing lethal, but enough to test speed, reflexes, and nerve. I’d seen recruits crumble under pressure before. Some panicked at the slightest hint of Alpha dominance. Quinn… I had no idea what he was going to do.

I lunged first, aiming to push him off balance immediately. His response was fluid, almost lazy, but precise. Every block, every step, measured. Not weak. Not sloppy. Just… perfect enough to frustrate me.

“Not bad,” I muttered. But my grin was sharp, predatory. “But not good enough.”

I pushed harder. Faster strikes, feints, sidesteps. I could feel the energy in the hall shift slightly, the pheromone traces of stress, excitement, something else. Something… strange.

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

And I smelled something, a burst of pheromones, barely detectable. But enough. Enough to make my muscles tense, my chest tighten. The kind of signature that should not exist here.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

“Everything okay?” he asked innocently, his eyes narrowing. “You’re… distracted.”

I blinked. Focus. That’s all I needed. But no. Something about him just… unbalanced me. Something sharp, subtle, like a murmur under my skin.

I lunged again. Faster, angrier. I had to push, had to show dominance. But as our swords clashed, I caught movement in the corner of my vision. Ronan Vale.

His presence hit like a tide. It was cold, sharp and heavy. I felt my chest tighten instinctively, and my fists hugged my sword tighter.

“Kael, step back,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

“Ronan…” I didn’t step back. Not because I wanted to defy him. Because I couldn’t. The pheromone flare from Quinn, it wasn’t just there. It was… affecting Ronan too.

Ronan’s shoulders stiffened. His eyes flashed with control, dominance, that familiar Alpha command that normally made everyone flinch. But… not complete control.

I almost laughed. Almost. Because no one ever faltered around Ronan. No one.

Elias. The kid.

He barely noticed the tension he’d caused, moving almost lazily, precise as ever. And in doing so, he made Ronan falter.

“Step aside,” Ronan said again, sharper this time. His gaze locked on Quinn, protective, possessive, like he wanted to claim what had stirred him.

I stared, skeptical. Protective? Possessive? Over a new recruit?

“Easy, Vale,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “It’s just sparring.”

Ronan didn’t jerk at my comment. He didn’t even acknowledge me. His focus was entirely on Quinn. And I realized then, this kid had… an effect. On the unshakable, untouchable Ronan Vale.

I smirked. Fine. I’d test him more. Make him push back. See if he could even control the chaos he brought.

I moved in again. Harder, faster, striking with calculated aggression. But the moment I did, Quinn’s stance shifted subtly. Nothing dramatic, almost polite, almost unconscious.

And Ronan tensed.

“You’re… aware,” Ronan muttered under his breath, voice low enough only he could hear. A trace of something unguarded passed through his eyes. Fascination? Confusion? Desire? Maybe all three.

I laughed softly. This is exactly what I wanted, chaos in control.

Quinn blocked my strike and countered with a precision move I hadn’t seen coming. Simple, clean, effective. No wasted motion.

“Not bad,” he said quietly, almost as if apologizing for his skill.

I blinked. “Not bad? That’s all you have?”

He shrugged, unshaken, teasing almost. “Not trying to impress you.”

Ronan moved then. Quick. Too quick. He stepped between us, authoritative, dominant, like a living barrier.

“Kael,” he said flatly, eyes never leaving Quinn. “Enough.”

“Ronan….” I started.

“Now,” he said, sharper, colder, final.

I stepped back, a smirk still tugging at my lips, but I knew I’d lost the round. In fact, everyone had lost, except Quinn. Even Ronan, who normally doesn’t flinch, shifted, visibly thrown.

Quinn glanced at him. Neutral. But… there was something there. A subtle acknowledgment. A softening in his eyes, almost unnoticeable, but I saw it.

The air was thick. Charged. Something changed in the room. And I realized then, Ronan wasn’t just intrigued. He was… affected.

I studied Quinn again, trying to place the feeling, the subtle dominance shift. Not mine. Not mine, but… his.

I wanted to test it. Push him more, see if he’d crack, see if the effect was consistent. But I couldn’t. Not while Ronan was watching him like that.

Quinn turned toward me, expression unreadable, and said quietly, almost to himself:

“Control… always control.”

I froze. The words repeated in my own head. And I realized… he knew exactly what he was doing.

Ronan’s gaze softened slightly, involuntarily. Protective. Even… gentle.

I narrowed my eyes. Damn it. Damn him. Damn both of them.

Quinn smiled faintly, that subtle, knowing kind of smile. Not cocky, not arrogant. But it is dangerous. Calculated.

And I knew then, without question, that this wasn’t just a sparring session. This was the beginning of a game. A game Quinn was already winning, and I was just a pawn watching it unfold.

Ronan exhaled slowly, shaking his head, trying to regain composure. But the effect lingered, his usual dominance faltered, and I swear, I saw a hint of something I hadn’t before: curiosity. Something personal.

“Kael,” Ronan said finally, voice low, almost warning. “Watch him closely. He’s… not ordinary.”

I smiled inwardly. That was rich. I had my orders, but I didn’t need them. I’d been watching him since yesterday. Quinn was trouble. But now I knew why.

He moved like a shadow, calm, controlled, untouchable. Yet he left trails of chaos in his wake. And Ronan Vale, the untouchable, was caught in it.

I stepped back, letting the moment settle. Quinn returned to his corner, posture perfect, calm, unaware of the storm he’d stirred.

I watched him, silent, calculating, planning my next move. And I knew this game had only just begun.