Chapter 12 – Initiation
Sam's POV
There’s a reason everyone in the dorm calls it “the gauntlet.”
The initiation. The hazing. Whatever you want to name it, it all means the same thing: if you don’t go through it, you don’t belong.
And if you don’t belong, you’re prey.
I’ve been prey before. I won’t be again.
It starts in the lounge, after dinner, when Declan and his pack sprawl across the couches like kings surveying their kingdom. I know the look in their eyes. That spark of cruelty itching for a target.
Tonight, it’s me.
“New blood,” Declan calls, and the room stills. Even the upperclassmen lean forward, hungry for entertainment. “Time to prove yourself.”
My stomach clenches, but I force a smirk, one I hope looks cocky instead of terrified. “What kind of proof are we talking about?”
Declan’s grin spreads slow and sharp, like a knife slicing skin. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep it fun.”
Fun. Right.
The first test is shots.
They line up little glasses of liquor on the table, smuggled in from God knows where. The smell alone makes me gag, sharp and burning, but I shove it down.
“Bottoms up, Hale,” one of the boys jeers.
I’ve never been a drinker. Lily wasn’t either. But I can’t hesitate. Hesitation is weakness, and weakness is blood in the water.
I tip the glass back, the liquid scorching down my throat. My eyes water, chest burning, but I slam it down like it’s nothing.
Declan’s smirk deepens. “Not bad. Again.”
They keep pushing. One, two, three. My head swims, but I grit my teeth, pretending it’s easy. Pretending I belong.
Elias sits on the arm of the couch, watching silently, flicking his lighter open and closed. He doesn’t join in. He doesn’t stop it either. His eyes meet mine once, and there’s something there—warning, maybe. Or pity.
I don’t want pity.
I want revenge.
The second test is worse.
“Take off your shirt,” one of them says.
My blood goes cold.
“What?” My voice is too sharp, too defensive. Stupid.
“You heard me,” the boy sneers. “We gotta see if you’re hiding any ink. Gang rule.”
Gang rule. More like humiliation.
My mind spins. My binder is tight under my hoodie, crushing my ribs. If I strip down, even halfway, it’s over. Everything’s over.
Declan leans forward, eyes glittering. “What’s the matter, Hale? Got something to hide?”
Every muscle in my body screams to run, but I can’t. Not now. Not here.
I yank my hoodie over my head in one sharp move, leaving only the loose t-shirt underneath. My heart hammers as I spread my arms. “Happy?”
They squint, leaning in, searching for weakness. I keep my shoulders squared, daring them to look closer.
One of the boys whistles. “Scrawny. He’ll never last.”
Laughter ripples through the room. Relief floods me, shaky and thin, but I don’t let it show. I shove my hoodie back on before anyone can press further.
Declan smirks, leaning back. He’s not convinced.
I can see it in his eyes.
The third test is the worst.
“Truth or dare,” Declan says.
I should have known it would come to this.
He tosses a coin, flips it in his palm. “Truth first. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”
The boys laugh, throwing out their own examples—puking in class, crying in front of a girl, stupid crap that doesn’t matter.
But Declan’s eyes stay locked on me. He doesn’t care about the game. He cares about cracking me open.
My mouth is dry. Every answer feels like a trap. If I sound too polished, too careful, they’ll smell the lie. If I’m too raw, too honest, I risk exposing myself.
So I shrug, force a laugh. “Pissed myself in third grade. Whole class saw. Never lived it down.”
The boys roar with laughter, pounding the table. Declan smirks, but it’s thin. He’s not satisfied.
“Dare,” he says next.
I brace myself.
He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Kiss him.”
He jerks his chin toward Elias.
The room explodes in laughter, hoots, shouts. “Do it, Hale!” “Come on, don’t chicken out!”
My blood turns to ice.
Elias freezes, lighter snapping shut in his hand. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes—his eyes sharpen.
I can’t. I can’t do this. If I lean too close, if my body presses against his, if he feels even one wrong line under my shirt—
Declan’s grin widens. He knows. He’s testing me, pushing me to the edge.
“Unless you’re scared,” he taunts.
The laughter grows louder, crueler, pressing in from all sides.
My hands shake. My throat burns. I force myself to move, step by step, every nerve screaming.
Elias watches me, still and unreadable.
I stop inches from him, close enough to feel the heat of his skin, smell the faint smoke on his clothes.
My heart slams against my ribs.
I lean in—
And the door bursts open.
A senior barges in, face flushed, shouting, “Ward, you’re wanted upstairs. Now.”
The tension snaps. The room groans, boys cursing at the interruption. Declan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue. He stands, throws one last smirk at me, and follows the senior out.
The others scatter, grumbling.
And then it’s just me. And Elias.
He hasn’t moved. He hasn’t spoken.
His eyes are locked on me like he sees everything.
Like he knows.
I stumble back, hoodie clutched around me, chest heaving. “That was—” My voice cracks, too high, too sharp. I clear my throat, force it lower. “That was nothing. Just a stupid game.”
Elias doesn’t answer.
He flicks his lighter open, flame sparking between us. His gaze cuts through me, calm, steady, too sharp.
“You almost cracked,” he says softly.
My heart seizes.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
He leans back in his chair, letting the lighter snap shut. “Careful, Hale. They’re looking for weaknesses.”
The words hang heavy in the air.
Warning. Or threat. I can’t tell.
All I know is one thing.
Next time, I might not get so lucky.
And Elias Cross is watching.
Always watching.