He can smell fear.
Of course he can.
They probably all can—Alphas with their enhanced senses, trained to detect weakness and vulnerability the way predators detect prey.
But I didn't give them fear.
Didn't give theassholewho threw the volleyball fear.
Didn't give anyone in this room the satisfaction of knowing they got to me.
"Fear doesn't help," I say quietly. "I learned that a long time ago. Being afraid doesn't stop bad things from happening. It just makes you easier to hurt."
Something flickers in Jett's expression.
Recognition, maybe.
Understanding.
His hand rises again—this time to my cheek, palm warm against my skin, thumb tracing across my cheekbone in a gesture that feels more intimate than it should.
"I'll be with the others," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Don't leave once class is done. We need to regroup as a pack."
As a pack.
The words send warmth flooding through my chest.
We need to regroup as a pack.
Like I'm part of them now.
Like I belong.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His hand drops.
He turns and walks away—fluid, silent, moving through the gymnasium like a shadow that's temporarily taken human form. The crowd parts around him automatically, students instinctively creating distance from something their hindbrain recognizes as dangerous.
I watch him go.
Watch him rejoin Sage and Blaze and Kai, the four of them forming a unit that radiates power and menace and the particular kind of unity that only comes from genuine connection.
My pack, I think, and the thought feels strange.
Foreign.
Wonderful.
The silence in the gymnasium finally breaks.
Voices start up again—cautious at first, then building as everyone processes what just happened. The gossip will be legendary, I'm sure. The Lawson pack defending their new Omega. The retribution delivered without hesitation. The statement made without words:
Touch her and suffer.
She's ours now.
Ours.
