The Gauntlet Run
1563 Words
The howl echoes through the courtyard just as I’m finishing lunch—low, commanding, impossible to ignore.
Then the bell tower chimes three times.
Mandatory assembly.
The field is already packed when I get there, the air humming with tension. Students cluster in tight little circles, whispering theories and half-truths. It’s too early for this much adrenaline.
At the front of the platform stand two men—Alphas.
Alpha Cassius, our pack’s leader, is broad-shouldered and cold-eyed, the kind of man whose silence says more than most people’s shouting. Next to him is Alpha Drake Kovak, leader of the Blood Vale Pack and father to the one person I least want to be paired with in anything, ever.
Koda.
Cassius steps forward. “As many of you are aware, this alliance is not just political. It is survival. To train together is to prepare together. And we will test that preparation.”
Drake picks up smoothly. “Four challenges. Four Fridays. No classes. You’ll compete in mixed teams—across packs, across ranks, and across ages.”
That alone earns a low ripple of murmurs.
“Each challenge will test a different trait,” Cassius says. “The first: instinct and endurance. The Gauntlet Run.”
A massive illusion flares to life behind them—shimmering terrain rendered in eerie detail: a forest maze, rocky climbs, sinkholes, shadowed rivers, what looks like a cursed cave, and—wait.
Is that lightning?
Drake gestures, and the image shifts. “Each team will enter with three flags. Lose them, and you’re out. Enforcers will be patrolling. If they catch you? They take one.”
Cassius adds, “The terrain will change. The course is enchanted.”
I blink. “Enchanted?”
Whispers break out around me.
Drake confirms it. “We’ve partnered with witches to embed illusion and disruption magic. Your eyes will lie to you. Your instincts may fail you.”
Witches. My skin prickles. They never involve witches unless they’re expecting something more than fun and games.
Tally leans in beside me. “Okay, did they mention magic when we signed up for this school?”
Benji huffs, half-laugh, half-growl. “They also didn’t mention we’d be stuck with Cece and Ari.”
Cece, standing a few feet away, flips her hair. “We can hear you, Benjamin.”
Ari just winks at Tally, who makes a quiet gagging sound.
They’re on the same team. I don’t know whether to laugh or apologize.
The illusion behind the alphas changes again—now listing teams. I scan for my name, heart thudding.
There.
Team Seven: Amelia Wild, Koda Kovak, Hale Lin, Maisie Kray, Lennox Vale, Rika Storm, Vaughn Elren, Mattis Rourke, Jude Harlow, Imari Rayne.
Koda. My stomach drops.
Like some cruel, cosmic joke, my name is paired with his. Again.
Across the field, I catch his eyes—dark, unreadable, and already locked on me. His mouth quirks up, like he expected this.
Of course he did.
Then I hear someone curse under their breath—low and sharp.
Boris.
He’s standing just behind the row in front of me, eyes glued to the board. His fists clench at his sides.
He’s not on my team. He’s with Dorian. I see both their names under Team Nine. Dorian smirks, leans in to say something to Boris, and Boris ignores him completely.
Great. That’ll be explosive.
Cassius raises a hand. “Team assignments are final. You will train with your team for one week. Use the time wisely. The Gauntlet begins next Friday at dawn.”
“Remember,” Drake adds, voice colder now, “every challenge earns points. At the end, the highest scoring team wins honor, rank, and coin. But second place? Still bleeds.”
With that, the illusion vanishes, and the crowd erupts into conversation. Some excited. Most anxious.
Tally groans dramatically. “Why are we always the chaos magnets?”
Benji grins. “At least we’re chaos together.”
Ari slings an arm around Tally’s shoulders. “Aw, come on. You might learn to love me.”
“I’d rather fight a demon bear,” she deadpans.
I barely hear them. My thoughts are tangled around one thing:
Koda Kovak. On my team. Again.
And this time, there’s no firelight. No rescuing. No secrets shared in the dark.
This time, we survive together.
Or we don’t.
⸻
We meet just after lunch in the east clearing. Team Seven, as it’s officially called. Unofficially? Probably the weirdest mix of shifters I’ve ever seen thrown together on purpose.
Koda’s already there when I arrive, standing with Mattis, Rika, and Jude—three students from his pack. I recognize them from orientation week, but we’ve never spoken. They stand with the kind of practiced posture that says we follow him. No questions asked.
The rest of us trickle in slowly. Hale, Maisie, Lennox, Imari. All older than me. All sizing each other up like the Gauntlet starts now.
Koda doesn’t wait for anyone to get comfortable.
“We’ve been assigned a 10 a.m. slot on the course every day this week,” he says, tone clipped and decisive. “Two hours to train. No exceptions.”
No one argues. Neither do I.
I’m not in the mood for power plays. Not today. Not with my head still foggy from the dream I barely remember—red eyes, shifting shadows, a voice I couldn’t place whispering my name like a threat.
Koda continues, “We’ll warm up together at nine. I’ll lead the physicals the first day, then hand off to someone else if needed.”
I nod automatically, but I barely hear the rest until—
“We’ve also been assigned a witch,” he says.
That pulls my attention back.
“What?” I say too sharply.
Koda glances at me, unreadable. “One per team. They’ll walk us through the enchantments used on the Gauntlet and teach shielding—mental wards, anti-hallucination focus, the basics.”
“Wait,” I say, blinking. “Since when do we train with witches? The elders haven’t approved inter-circle collaboration, have they?”
Rika shrugs. “Apparently they have now.”
“This isn’t normal,” I mutter, more to myself.
Koda hears it anyway. “No, it’s not. Which means we adapt. Fast.”
He lets that hang in the air for a moment before adding, “You don’t have to trust the witch. But you’ll need to trust me.”
That lands like a stone in my chest.
Koda looks around once more. “That’s it for today. Rest. Be at the clearing by nine sharp tomorrow. No one drags the rest of us down.”
The group disperses slowly, some grumbling under their breath, others already whispering strategy.
I turn to go, but—
“Millie.”
His voice stops me mid-step.
I glance back. Koda’s a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze trained on me like he’s trying to read my pulse through my skin.
“You prefer Millie, not Amelia?” he asks quietly.
My stomach flips. “Don’t call me that.”
A pause.
“Okay,” he says simply. “Millie, then.”
I should leave. But I don’t.
“I want to help you figure out what happened,” he says.
I stiffen. “What?”
“That night. After the bonfire. You were alone when I found you. And no one else knows.”
It hits me all at once—he’s right. No one else does know. Not Boris. Not Tally. Not even the Alphas. I never gave the full version, never said I woke up somewhere wrong. Somewhere watched.
“I don’t know what it was,” I admit, voice low. “But it wasn’t just rogues.”
Koda nods once. “I believe you.”
It’s stupid, but that undoes me a little.
“I can’t talk here,” I say. “Not with everyone around.”
“I know a spot,” he says. “Meet me tonight. My place. I’ll drive us.”
I should say no. I should question his motives. But there’s a calm in him, that still-burning intensity I don’t understand but feel tethered to anyway.
“Okay.”
Before he can say anything else, a familiar voice breaks the air between us.
“There you are.”
Boris.
He strides over and slips an arm around my waist like it belongs there. Drops a kiss to my temple. “Been looking for you.”
I smile, out of habit more than anything. “I was just heading back.”
“I’ll walk you.”
He nods at Koda, who doesn’t flinch or move. Just watches us like he’s filing something away for later.
Then Ari appears—of course she does—looping her arm through Koda’s like they’ve been close for years.
“Koda, babe,” she purrs. “We still sparring tonight?”
He doesn’t look at her. Just says, “No.”
Her smile falters.
She doesn’t even glance my way. Still hasn’t. No apology. No acknowledgment of what she did. Probably too scared of being expelled.
Or maybe she just doesn’t care.
But I don’t have time to hate her. I’ve got enough on my plate just trying to figure out what I am—and why something out there knows my name.
- Writer
