The Invisible Boy
The sparring rings at Blackwood Academy always smelled the same: crushed pine needles, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of Alpha dominance. To Leo, it just smelled like another Tuesday on his hands and knees.
He dragged the bristled brush across the rubberized mats, scrubbing away the dried blood from the morning’s combat trials. A heavy boot suddenly slammed down on the mat inches from his fingers, intentionally kicking over his bucket of soapy water.
"Oops. Sorry, dud."
Leo didn’t look up. He didn't need to. The cloying scent of cheap cologne and unearned arrogance belonged to Miller, a mid-tier brute who made up for his lack of agility by tormenting anyone lower on the academy food chain. And at Blackwood, nobody was lower than Leo.
"Clumsy today, Miller," Leo muttered, keeping his voice carefully flat. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, letting his messy dark hair shadow his face. If he looked up, Miller might catch a glimpse of the silver-black voids of his eyes—the eyes the academy doctors had dismissed as a rare, degenerative blindness.
"What was that?" Miller growled, a heavy vibration rattling in his chest.
Before Miller could escalate, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the damp morning air.
"If you have enough energy to harass the janitorial staff, Miller, you have enough energy to run the perimeter again. Move."
The air pressure in the courtyard shifted instantly. Leo kept his head bowed, but the scent hitting his senses was unmistakable: crushed midnight blossoms and pure, suffocating authority.
Jane.
She walked past him with long, purposeful strides, flanked by two of her royal sycophants. She didn't spare Leo a single glance. She hadn't intervened to save him; she had intervened because bullying a "cripple" was beneath the dignity of her pack. She was a royal through and through—proud, untouchable, and fiercely protective of the hierarchy.
As Miller scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, Jane paused near the edge of the ring. Her golden eyes flicked down to Leo for a fraction of a second. There was no pity in her gaze, only a cool, clinical dismissal of a liability.
"Clean this up," she ordered briskly, stepping over the spilled water. "The Alphas need the ring in ten minutes."
"Yes, your highness," Leo murmured, letting his voice c***k just enough to sound submissive.
He waited until she and her entourage were completely out of sight before he finally stopped scrubbing. The oppressive weight of her royal aura faded, leaving the woods quiet.
Leo sat back on his heels and reached into the hidden inner pocket of his jacket, his fingers brushing against a jagged piece of scorched metal. It was a broken signet ring—the only thing he had found in the ashes of his mother's cabin three years ago.
He ran his thumb over the crest etched into the silver. It was the same crest stitched into the back of Jane’s academy jacket. The crest of Lord Alaric. Her uncle.
Leo’s grip tightened on the metal until his knuckles turned white. Let them think he was blind. Let them think he was weak. They were exactly where he needed them to be.
