Page 49 of Villainous Fate

“This one is from my brother, Luca. I needed him to keep an eye on her, and she mentioned in her last letter that she thought someone was following her. I’m still not convinced they weren't. Though I can’t imagine who would be bold enough to get on my bad side.” He laughs at that and nods.

We’ve talked about home several times over the last five weeks. I know he has a sister named Juliet, who is Ashley’s age, and both his parents are lower-ranked wolves without pack positions. They work as a teacher and a doctor but mostly stay out of pack affairs.

Sounds like an awesome life to me.

I’ve talked about Grace, how we met, when she punched Greg in the face, and even slipped up and mentioned our plan to move when I get back. It was a stupid mistake, but I trust that Marcus will keep his mouth shut. Even Luca doesn’t know about us leaving.

Marcus knows I don’t want to lead my pack, and that leading another pack is of no interest to me. I know he wants that life and is hoping to find a pack he can lead after his apprenticeship. He’s the only one who doesn’t know where he is going. Apparently, the pack Stone was supposed to be apprenticing with changed their mind when they found out he wasn’t the Alpha’s son.

Trust me. Stone’s the better choice.

Jonathan Barton’s a lazy, entitled brat. He’s never taken his role seriously. He wants the perks of being Alpha with none of the work. I would respect the absolute ‘fuck you’ to the system if he didn’t also try to wield its power.

All of us, even those eliminated, are supposed to complete a six-month stint with another pack. The purpose has historically been to establish stronger ties but it’s also is a way to form better leaders by seeing different ways packs are run. Maybe Stone will take Alvarez’s place now that he’s no longer able to complete the job.

Maybe I can see if Luca can mention something to our Alpha. He might be the only one who could sway him into taking someone on.

At formation the next morning, the tension was thick as we waited for news regarding the final challenge. Stickman was late, and the twelve of us stood quietly, ready to memorize every bit of instruction that would come from this briefing.

Saint and his crew of worshipers, at least the remaining ones, talk among themselves while the rest of us keep our distance. Other than the intentional slowdown during the blindfolded team competition, no one has made a move against me, and after ignoring both Megan and Veronica’s attempts to try and seduce me, they’ve even backed off.

Let’s get this over with.

My wolf’s restless. While we’re allowed to shift in the evenings, it’s never long enough, and it was never for a real chase. He’s ready for a challenge, and I’m hoping this final task will be that for him.

Stone always remains stoic in every situation. He’s very good at keeping his mask firmly in place and not allowing his true emotions to slip through, so I don’t know if he’s flipping out or completely calm.

As if I summoned his attention with the thought, his eyes lift to mine locking in a silent conversation. He subtly drops his chin in a single nod before turning his attention elsewhere. While he said no words, his message is clear.

We’re good.

The additional relief the small gesture gives me is still a bit surprising. Opening up and allowing others to know me isn’t my strong suit, but I feel like Marcus has proven his loyalty again and again.

Stickman walks out of the leadership tent and storms up onto the platform. The anger radiating off him sets me on edge as we move to line up on our assigned dots. Four lines of three. Ordered by rank. Stone stands in the number one spot, and I fall behind him to stand at number two. McCormick finishes our line at third. Next to Marcus is Saint in fourth followed by Sullivan, and Perkins in fifth and sixth respectively. The third line includes Moore, French, and Barlow falling seventh through ninth. The last line wraps up the tenth through twelfth spots with Clark, Lucci, and Kent.

“Tomorrow is the final challenge,” he begins, pulling all of our attention. “You will be randomly sorted into teams of three. This challenge will focus on your ability to work together toward a common goal. Each team will have an item they must retrieve and bring back to the starting point. You will not be told where the starting point is or what your team's item will be until the start of the challenge. For this trial, you will have three days to return, so pack your bags and be ready to face the winter’s cold overnight.” He pauses, allowing that information to sink in.

Three days? How far are we going to have to go?

“Additionally, at the first challenge, we had several teams answer the riddle that was posed. Three of you will begin with a disadvantage, and two of you will begin with an advantage based on those responses. Stone. Marlo,” he says our names with venom dripping from his tone, and the snarl pulled on his lip brings a grin to my face.

Someone’s a little butt hurt.

“You may choose a time advantage for your team or choose to switch teams, choosing a single player to trade places with. Decide now,” he orders, crossing his arms as if waiting for our choice is a waste of his time.

Marcus turns around, and I whisper my idea before he can speak.

“You take the time. I’ll take the swap. That way, we end up on the same team and have a time advantage.” He nods, turning back to face the podium.

“I choose the time advantage, Stickman,” he says, completely calm in his delivery.

“I choose the option to trade,” I answer, hoping this works. The only way I can see this being a problem is if we end up on the same team, and now I need to switch places. It’s a long shot, but it's still a possibility.

“Fine,” he seethes, turning his attention back to the group and motioning to the bowl at the center of the table in front of us. “You will draw a team in rank order. Cadet Marlo will decide his trade. Then, you will have today to strategize. Pebbles, you’re first,” he says, looking at Stone, a smile forming on his face at the nickname he chose.

Marcus steps up to the table, pulls a paper, and walks back down to his spot. I follow his lead, and one by one, each cadet pulls a piece of paper from the bowl until Kent takes the last slip. Holding my breath, I open the folded parchment to see the word ‘EAST’ on my paper.

“Move to your new team's corners,” Stickman yells, causing me to look around the space to see large flags distinguishing the compass directions at each corner.

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