BOUND TO THE BULLIES

5 | On Your Knees

Darcy

"Royal?"

Ronan spits the word out like it’s poison. He stares at my violet eyes, his face twisting between disbelief and fury.

"Don't be stupid, Damon," he snarls, though he takes a cautious half-step back. "The Royal bloodline was wiped out during the Great War. They are extinct. She is nothing. Just a genetic freak."

"Look at her eyes, Ronan!" Alastair argues, his voice rising an octave. He pushes his glasses up, staring at me as if I were a rare specimen in a jar. "That color doesn’t exist in normal packs. And the resistance... no Omega has ever resisted a Prime Command. Ever."

I stand there, breathing heavily. The strange, bubbling power inside me is calming down, settling into my bones like molten lead. It feels heavy. It feels ancient.

I don't know what a "Royal" is. I don't care. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I am not shaking.

"I am leaving," I state. My voice is steady. Cold.

I turn toward the door. Amos is still blocking it, but he looks pale, sweat dripping down his temple. He looks at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"Move, Amos," I say.

He flinches. He actually flinches. He starts to step aside, his body reacting to my voice before his brain does.

"Stay where you are, Caine!" Ronan roars.

Amos freezes, caught between two commands. The conflict makes him grunt in pain.

Ronan turns his rage back to me. His golden eyes are wild. His pride has been wounded, and a wounded Alpha is a dangerous thing.

"You think a parlor trick changes anything?" Ronan growls, stalking toward me. "You think because your eyes changed color, you are suddenly above me? Above us?"

He closes the distance in two strides. The heat radiating off him is suffocating.

"You are a scholarship rat," he hisses, looming over me. "You are poor. You are weak. And you belong to my pack whether I want you or not."

He reaches out. His hand wraps around my throat.

It’s not enough to choke me, but it’s a threat. A claim.

"I am going to break you, Darcy," he whispers, his face inches from mine. "I am going to make you beg for scraps. I will make you wish you had never..."

SNAP.

Something inside me breaks.

It isn’t fear this time. It isn’t sadness.

It is pure, unadulterated wrath.

My wolf snarls. She doesn’t whine. She doesn’t cower. She stands up in my mind, massive and white as snow, and she bares her fangs at the King.

How dare he touch us.

The power surges up my throat, burning like acid. It demands release.

I grab Ronan’s wrist. My grip is iron.

His eyes widen in shock as he tries to pull away—and fails. I am stronger than him. Me. The weak Omega.

I lock my violet gaze with his gold one.

"I said..." I begin, and my voice is not my own. It layers over itself, a chorus of ancestors speaking through my vocal cords. It vibrates the glass in the windows.

"KNEEL."

The word hits the room like a shockwave.

It isn’t a request. It is a Law of Nature.

THUD.

Ronan doesn’t just kneel. He crashes.

His legs fold under him instantly, his knees hitting the hardwood floor with a bone-jarring impact. His hand falls from my throat as his body is forced into submission.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Behind him, Damon, Alastair, and Amos drop.

It happens in a split second. One moment, they are the four most powerful predators in the academy. The next, they are on the floor, heads bowed, bodies trembling with the strain of fighting a command that cannot be fought.

Silence. absolute, terrifying silence.

I stand alone in the center of the room. The only one standing.

I look down at them. My tormentors. My bullies. My... mates.

Ronan is shaking violently. His face is red with exertion, veins popping in his neck as he tries to lift his head. He fights it with everything he has. He is an Alpha Prime; submission goes against his very DNA.

Slowly, painfully, he manages to lift his chin.

His eyes meet mine.

There is no arrogance left in them. Only shock. Fear. And a deep, burning humiliation.

"What..." he chokes out, saliva dripping from his lip because he can’t even control his jaw properly. "What... are... you?"

I look at my hands. They are glowing faintly.

I realize then that I could kill them. Right now. I could command them to stop breathing, and they would have to obey. Their lives are in the palm of my hand.

The thought is intoxicating. Terrifying.

I look back at Ronan. I step closer to him, until the toes of my worn-out sneakers touch the expensive fabric of his trousers.

He flinches, expecting a kick.

I don't kick him. I lean down, invading his space just as he did mine.

"I am Darcy Allen," I whisper, my voice echoing in the silent room. "And if you ever touch me without my permission again, I won't just make you kneel."

I let the threat hang there.

"I will make you crawl."

I straighten up and look at the door.

"Amos. Open it."

From his position on the floor, Amos drags himself toward the door. He can't stand up—I haven't given them permission to rise yet—so he crawls. He reaches up and unlocks the handle.

I step over Ronan’s legs and walk out.

I leave them there, trapped on the floor of the Student Council room, bound by my voice.

I walk down the hallway, my head held high. But the moment I turn the corner and am out of sight, my legs give out.

I slide down the wall, gasping for air, clutching my chest.

What have I done?

I just declared war on the four most powerful wolves in the country.

And worse...

I remember the look in Ronan’s eyes right before I left. Beneath the hate and the humiliation, there was something else. Something dark and twisted that made my own skin prickle with heat.

He didn’t just look angry.

He looked... obsessed.