Chapter 3 Recognition (Jaxon POV)
"This is going to be another lecture about vaping in the bathrooms," Garrett muttered beside me, slouching in his seat. "I'm calling it now."
"Shut up and pay attention." I kept my voice low, scanning the auditorium with practiced casualness. Old habit from years of pack training—always know your exits, always identify potential threats, always maintain situational awareness.
The assembly had pulled us out of lacrosse practice, which meant Coach Reynolds was going to make us run extra drills tomorrow. Worth it, though. These mandatory gatherings were perfect opportunities to observe the student body, identify which ones carried themselves differently, which ones might be hiding something.
My father's orders had been explicit: Monitor. Report. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary.
The Treaty Renewal Season made everyone paranoid, and Ashford Heights was supposedly neutral ground. But neutrality meant nothing if another pack decided to challenge Steelclaw authority, and my job was to ensure we had intelligence on every supernatural within a fifty-mile radius.
So far, I'd identified three wolves from the Riverside Pack, two from Greystone, and a handful of loners who kept to themselves. None of them posed a significant threat.
"Dean Whitmore looks constipated," Cole whispered from my other side, earning a few snickers from the guys behind us. "Think someone finally reported him for that toupee?"
"It's not a toupee," Garrett shot back. "It's a..."
"Gentlemen." I didn't raise my voice, didn't even look at them. Just let enough Alpha authority bleed through to make them both shut up immediately.
The lights dimmed. Dean Whitmore took the stage, and the room fell into that particular kind of silence that meant students sensed consequences.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice."
I half-listened to his opening remarks about violence on campus, my attention divided between the Dean's speech and the crowd. Most students looked bored or confused. A few seemed nervous. And then there was the girl sitting in the middle section, three rows back.
The one I'd literally run into earlier.
She sat rigid in her seat, hands gripping the armrests like she was preparing for impact. Even from this distance, I could see the tension radiating off her. Her roommate kept glancing at her with obvious concern.
Brynn Calloway. Scholarship student. Disgraced athlete. One year of mandatory counseling for an assault that went viral.
Human.
Except something about her had bothered me since our collision in the hallway. The way my wolf had perked up at her proximity, curious and alert in a way that made no sense. She was human. Humans didn't trigger instinctual responses.
"And to help us understand the consequences of unchecked anger," Dean Whitmore continued, "I've asked Dr. Reeves to present a case study."
The counselor walked onto the stage, and a presentation slide appeared on the screen: "Understanding Aggressive Behavior: A Cautionary Tale."
"Last year, this academy experienced a significant incident..."
Oh. Oh.
They were going to use her as an example. In front of the entire school. Without warning.
"Ballsy," Garrett muttered. "Think she knew this was coming?"
"Look at her," Cole said, leaning forward. "She had no idea."
He was right. Brynn had gone pale, her knuckles white against the armrests. This was an ambush.
The screen changed, showing grainy footage of a lacrosse game. Two players faced off, and then...
The attack was brutal.
"This student exhibited classic signs of aggression dysregulation," Dr. Reeves said, her tone clinical and detached. "The inability to control emotional responses. The tendency toward violent outbursts..."
"It wasn't unprovoked."
And then everything changed.
Brynn doubled over, gasping. The sound that escaped her wasn't quite human, a whimper of pain that raised every hair on the back of my neck. Around me, my packmates tensed. Garrett's hand went to his armrest, claws threatening to emerge. Cole's eyes began to glow.
"Hold," I said quietly, but my own control was slipping. Because I could feel it now, power building in the auditorium like pressure before a storm.
Colors shifted around Brynn, the air warping and distorting. Her hands curled into claws, nails extending into deadly points. Her jaw elongated slightly, teeth sharpening. And her eyes...
Glowing.
A transformation. Here. In front of everyone.
"Holy shit," Garrett breathed. "Is she..."
The scent hit me.
My wolf went absolutely insane, surging against my control with a ferocity I'd never experienced.
And I knew.
I knew.
"Bloodrose," someone whispered behind me.
The word detonated in my brain like an explosive. Bloodrose. The pack that betrayed us two centuries ago. The pack that owed us a blood debt so old it had become legend. The pack my father still hunted, still claimed dominion over, still insisted would pay for their ancestors' treachery.
And she was here. In my school. In my territory.
My wolf demanded I move, demanded I claim her immediately, pin her down and—
No. Not claim. Subdue. Bring her in. She belonged to Steelclaw by right, by law, by the blood debt her family owed mine.
I shot to my feet, my eyes already glowing gold, pack authority flooding my system.
Brynn's gaze found mine across the auditorium.
Our eyes locked.
And the world snapped.
It felt like someone had grabbed my sternum and yanked, like an invisible cord had just been tied between us, unbreakable and eternal. My wolf howled in recognition, in triumph, in possession.
Mate.
The word thundered through my consciousness with absolute certainty. Not just attraction. Not just instinct. The fundamental, biological, sacred recognition that this person—this girl who was supposed to be my servant, my property by pack law—was meant to be mine in every way that mattered.
My mate was a Bloodrose.
My mate owed me servitude.
My mate was meant to kneel before my pack until her family's debt was paid.
I forced myself to stand still, hands balled into fists, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.
"Jax." Cole's voice was low, urgent. "Tell me you didn't just..."
"Not here." I turned away from the exit, away from her retreating form, away from the mate bond that was currently trying to tear me in half. "We need to talk. Now."
We filed out with the rest of the crowd, but I steered my packmates toward the empty athletic building instead of back to the dorms. Once we were in the equipment room with the door closed, they all turned to stare at me.
"Bloodrose," Tyler said flatly. "We just found an actual Bloodrose."
"Your dad's going to lose his mind," Devon added. "This is what he's been waiting for."
"Yeah." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "I know."
"So we bring her in, right?" Cole's expression was calculating. "This is perfect. We present her to Alpha Hale, he decides her fate, and Steelclaw's authority is reinforced. It's a political goldmine."
"She's a student," Garrett said slowly. "And she clearly didn't know what she was until about ten minutes ago."
"Doesn't matter." Cole's tone was dismissive. "Blood debt is blood debt."
"She's also..." I stopped, unable to say it. Unable to give voice to the bond that was currently shredding my control.
Garrett's eyes widened. "No. Jaxon, tell me you didn't..."
"I felt it." The words came out rough. "The mate bond. It's her."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
"Oh, shit," Tyler breathed.
"Your mate is a Bloodrose." Devon sounded like he was working through a complex math problem. "Your mate owes your family servitude or death. Your mate is..."
"I know." The words came out sharper than intended. "I know exactly what she is and what it means."