The Scent of Lies
1056 Words
Riven’s POV
The first thing I noticed about the new boy was that he smelled wrong.
Not weak. Not sick. Not scared.
Just… wrong.
Like pine smoke and storm air — clean, sharp, wild — carrying a note I couldn’t place but couldn’t ignore either.
Shadowfang always smells the same: wet stone, sweat, blood. Fear. Every year it’s the same—fresh recruits arriving with their tails tucked, their scent screaming insecurity or arrogance. All of them desperate to prove they belong here.
But this one didn’t smell like fear.
He smelled like somewhere else.
Like he’d been made under a different moon.
And I couldn’t look away.
When he walked into our dorm last night, hood pulled low, his chin tucked like a criminal expecting the noose, I’d expected him to glance at me, test me like the rest do.
But he didn’t.
He barely looked up. Barely breathed.
Not out of submission. Submission has a scent — sharp and acrid, the stink of a belly-up pup waiting to be kicked.
No.
This was deliberate.
Like he was trying to erase himself.
To become no one at all.
That’s what caught my attention.
Everyone who comes here wants to be seen. Wants to be the loudest, the strongest, the last one standing.
But this one?
This one wanted to vanish.
And that made me want to watch.
---
I didn’t fight in the Pit that morning. Didn’t need to.
My place here was carved out years ago, paid for in blood and bones. I’ve already stood where those boys stood, already bled into that sand until no one dared question whether I deserved to be here.
Now, no one calls my name.
No one asks me to prove myself.
I am the test they don’t want to take.
So I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and tracked him with my eyes.
The new boy stayed low, kept to the edges, slipping through the chaos like smoke. A smart strategy, but in a place like this, hiding is the same as painting a target on your back.
And sure enough, someone noticed.
Grayden.
Of course it was Grayden.
Big, brutal Grayden, built like an ox and twice as clever. His scent was thick with bloodlust before the bell even rang. He went for the boy like he’d been waiting all morning for a reason to break something.
I expected the boy to take the hit, to fold under Grayden’s weight like a rabbit under a wolf’s paw.
But he didn’t.
He moved.
Quick. Sharp. Clean.
Like a blade.
There was no panic in him, no desperate thrashing. His movements were precise. Controlled. He caught Grayden’s wrist, twisted, used momentum instead of muscle, slammed him down and rolled clear before the next attack came.
Someone had taught him that.
Someone who knew how to fight to win.
Someone dangerous.
Interesting.
I felt my wolf lift its head inside me, the beast’s interest pricking like claws against my ribs.
When the bell rang, I was smiling without realizing it.
The boy was still standing. Bloody, panting, his hair plastered to his face, but standing.
Most pups would have stayed down and let the sand swallow them until the fight passed over.
But not this one.
This one had fire.
---
I waited for him outside the Pit, my shadow long across the stones.
I wanted to see what he’d do when he saw me.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
Didn’t bare his throat either.
Just met my eyes for a beat too long.
Another mark in his favor.
“Try to stay alive,” I told him, my voice soft, deliberate, meant to cut.
Then I left him there.
But I kept thinking about him long after I was gone.
---
When the bell called us back for the circle challenge, I was already waiting at the edge of the courtyard, arms folded, watching.
I wanted to see if he’d come back.
He did.
Slower this time. Favoring one side. His hood lower.
Most boys would have stayed in the infirmary, licking their wounds.
But not him.
He stepped into the courtyard like nothing could touch him.
Good.
I hate cowards.
---
The challenge began.
The air was a living thing — hot, loud, full of snarls and the sharp tang of blood. Chalk circles turned red as boys slammed each other into the stone. Some limped out grinning, some limped out broken.
Then it was his turn.
Grayden again.
Perfect.
The two of them squared off, and I saw it — the exact moment the boy’s control slipped.
His eyes.
For just a heartbeat, they glowed.
Silver.
Not the gold of an alpha-in-training.
Not the amber haze of a half-shift.
Silver.
Rare. Deadly.
And then it was gone.
Hidden so fast anyone else might have thought they imagined it.
But I didn’t imagine it.
My wolf growled low, a sound only I heard.
The boy moved like water, fast and unyielding. Grayden had the size, the strength, but the boy had the speed and the brain. Every strike was calculated, every dodge precise.
And then the hood came loose.
Silver hair spilled forward, catching the morning light like a blade catching moonlight.
Half the circle leaned in, nostrils flaring, catching that strange, sharp scent that didn’t belong.
And the boy froze.
Just for a breath.
Then he slammed Grayden into the stones so hard I felt the impact in my bones.
The whistle blew.
“Winner: Kade Thorne.”
The courtyard erupted — cheers, howls, jeers — but I barely heard them.
I was watching him.
Watching the way he scrambled to yank the hood back up, the way his chest heaved, the way his hands shook before he forced them still.
That wasn’t fear of losing.
That was fear of being seen.
And my wolf pressed against my ribs, pacing now, restless, eager.
For the second time that day, I smiled.
Because now this wasn’t just about a boy trying to survive Shadowfang.
This was about a secret.
A dangerous one.
And I wanted to know exactly what it was.
And how far I’d have to push him before it broke.
And when it finally did, whether I’d be the one to break him — or the one to put him back together afterward.
- Writer
