Chapter 3 Step 1: Rattling him
CHAPTER 003
RAVENNA
I marched through the Academy hallways, my black knee-high boots smacking the polished floor with every determined step. My biker gear felt like armor: tight black pants hugging my curves, a plain white top, and my favorite black leather jacket that screamed I didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. My red hair bounced with each stride, catching the light and drawing every eye in the corridor.
Samantha kept up beside me, her jeans and sweater making her look like she was trying to blend into the walls. Me? I wasn’t here to disappear.
Students lined the halls, staring like I was some exotic creature that wandered in off the street. Whispers followed us, sharp, petty, meant to be heard.
“The new human girl’s acting like she owns the place,” a guy muttered, loud enough to cut through the chatter.
“Seriously, that outfit on the first day of class? What does she think this is?” a girl with a high ponytail sneered.
“Bet she’s just here to flex,” another voice added.
I didn’t bother looking. Their words were noise. I wasn’t here to play their petty games. Sam glanced at me, her eyes silently saying let it go, but I kept my gaze forward, jaw tight. I didn’t care what they thought. Never had. I was here for one reason: Darius Pike. And making sure my mission stayed on track.
We reached our lockers—mine right next to hers. I yanked mine open, grabbed my English textbook, and slammed it shut with a loud clang that echoed down the hall.
Sam pulled out her book and leaned over to whisper, “They’re just jealous, you know.”
“Let them be,” I muttered. “I’m not here to kiss up to anyone.”
We headed to the lecture hall, weaving through the last stragglers. When we pushed open the heavy double doors, the room was already buzzing with the hum of a lecture in progress.
Heads turned as we stepped in. I felt the weight of their stares again—curious, judgmental, amused.
The lecturer, a tall guy with wire-rimmed glasses and a crisp shirt stopped mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re late,” he said, voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Names?”
“Ravenna,” I said, meeting his eyes without blinking. “This is Samantha.”
“Sorry, Professor Bonn,” Sam mumbled, sounding nervous. “We got held up.”
Bonn waved us off. “Find seats. Don’t make it a habit.”
I scanned the room and spotted two empty seats right up front. Perfect. I led the way, ignoring the curious glances. Sam slid in next to me as I dropped my textbook on the desk with a thud. I leaned back, crossing my arms, ready to zone out through whatever boring lecture was coming.
Bonn paced in front of the whiteboard, holding up a copy of Belladonna by Adalyn Grace. “Today we’re diving into a sensitive scene—chapter twelve. Signa confronts Death after learning his role in her family’s tragedy. Think about the emotional weight. Betrayal, loss, Death as a real, tangible figure. Let’s discuss.”
He flipped open the book and read aloud, voice steady: “‘Signa stared into Death’s eyes, her heart torn between rage and grief. He was no mere shadow but a force that had shaped her life, taken her family, and now stood before her, unapologetic. “Why?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Why did you take them?”’”
He closed the book. “What does this confrontation reveal about Signa’s relationship with Death? Anyone?”
The room went dead quiet. A few kids flipped pages, hoping for magic answers.
My hand shot up before I could stop myself.
Sam nudged me under the desk. “Ravenna, don’t,” she hissed. “You’re going to draw too much attention.”
I ignored her.
Bonn’s eyes landed on me. “You, the latecomer. Name again?”
“Ravenna,” I said, rolling my eyes just enough to make it clear I wasn’t intimidated.
“Alright, Ravenna. Shoot.”
I leaned forward, red hair spilling over one shoulder. “Signa’s confrontation shows she’s not just scared of Death—she’s pissed. But she’s also drawn to him. She hates him for what he’s done, but she can’t push him away because he’s the only one who truly understands her power. It’s messy, like she wants to punch him and needs him at the same time.”
Bonn nodded, face neutral. “Interesting. And what does Death’s response—or lack of one—tell us about his character?”
I opened my mouth, but a voice cut in from the back. It was smooth, confident, and annoyingly familiar.
“It’s not just about mortality,” the guy said, tone hurried like he was claiming the spotlight. “It’s about control. Signa’s trying to take control of her life, but Death represents everything she can’t control.”
I turned. Darius. Of course. The guy who’d made me come to this academy in the first place. Asteria never mentioned he was brilliant. I smirked as realization dawned on me, he was feeling rivaled.
I turned back to Bonn, ignoring him completely. “It’s both. Mortality and control are tied together. Signa’s fighting to understand why her family died, but she’s also fighting to prove she’s not just Death’s victim. She wants to rewrite the rules, but she’s learning she can’t always win.”
Bonn’s lips twitched impressed, though he tried to hide it. “Well said, Ravenna. Let’s go deeper. Why does Death’s presence feel so personal to Signa, rather than abstract?”
My hand went up again, but Darius jumped in first. “Because he’s not just a concept to her. He’s literally in her life, talking to her, shaping her choices. It’s personal because he’s made it that way.”
I spun in my seat to face him. “That’s only half of it.” My tone sharpened. “It’s personal because Signa’s tied to him through her own power. She’s not just dealing with Death as some guy who shows up—she’s dealing with the fact that she’s got a piece of him inside her. That’s what makes it feel like betrayal when he won’t give her the answers she wants.”
Darius’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. “That’s a stretch. She’s not part of him. She’s just caught up in his game.”
“No, she’s not,” I shot back. “Her power comes from the same place as his. That’s why she can see him, talk to him. She’s not just a pawn, she’s a player, and he knows it. That’s what scares her and keeps her coming back.”
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared, eyes bouncing between us like we were in a cage match.
Sam whispered, “Ravenna, stop,” but I wasn’t backing down. Not to him. Crawling under his skin was the perfect way to get closer.
Darius leaned forward, voice a low growl. “You’re giving her too much credit. She’s not on his level. Death’s untouchable, and she’s just a girl in over her head.”
I smirked, holding his gaze. “If she’s so outmatched, why does Death keep showing up? He’s not there for fun. He sees something in her—a threat. And he knows it.”
Darius opened his mouth, but Bonn raised a hand. “Enough. You’ve both made strong points. Ravenna got excellent analysis. Darius, solid counter. Let’s keep it civil.”
Darius leaned back, face stormy, fingers drumming hard on his desk.
I caught his eye and gave him a quick, taunting smirk. He looked like he wanted to snap my neck. I turned back to the front, unbothered. If he thought he could scare me off, he was in for a surprise.
Bonn moved on to the symbolism of Death’s cloak, but my mind was still on Darius. His glare burned into the back of my head. It only made me sit up straighter.
Bring it on, golden boy.
When the lecture ended, Bonn called me to the front. The room cleared out, but a few kids lingered, pretending not to listen. Darius and his buddies stayed in the back, whispering, throwing looks.
“Ravenna,” Bonn said, adjusting his glasses. “Sharp thinking today. You’ve got a real thing for this. I also oversee sports programs. Any extracurriculars you’re planning?”
A few snickers nearby.
Bonn shot them a look. They shut up.
I grinned, leaning against the desk. “Thanks, Professor. I’m from a biker family, been riding motorcycles since I was a kid.”
More snickers. Bonn silenced them with a glare. “Biking’s not an option here. Anything else?”
I paused. My eyes drifted to the back, Darius standing with arms crossed, glaring like I’d stolen his spotlight. His friends muttered, probably trashing me.
A spark of mischief hit me. This was one step closer to my mission.
I turned back to Bonn, smirk growing. “You know what? I think I’ll try out for the male hockey team.”
The room exploded with murmurs. Someone gasped. Another muttered, “She’s nuts.”
Darius’s eyes narrowed to slits, face a mix of shock and raw rage.
Bonn raised an eyebrow. “Hockey’s tough, Ravenna. The male team are competitive. Traditionally wolf-only—humans tend to struggle. Not discouraging you, but are you sure? You should reconsider and try the female team.”
I shrugged, voice calm and confident. “I’m sure. I’ll be at tryouts this afternoon. Trust me. I’m going to shock y’all with my performance.”
I met Darius’s glare across the room and held it, letting him see the challenge.
Game on.