Chapter 158

XANDER

Staring at Zayne, I actually let out a laugh. Half in shock, half joy, half what-the-actual-hell—because he was supposed to be halfway out of Silverfang by now.

He wasn’t even on campus this morning. But here he is, standing over Liam like death in a hoodie, chest rising and falling like he ran all the way from wherever he was just to beat him senseless.

Liam groans. Zayne ignores him.

He turns to me, and the moment we lock eyes something in my chest unclenches. Relief. Pride. The kind of brother bond that doesn’t need talking.

“You’re... early,” I mutter as he walks over. He rolls his eyes. “You’re bleeding on your shirt. It's disgusting.”

“I’m bleeding because someone”—I gesture at Liam’s crumpled body—“forgot his place.”

Zayne lifts me by the arm like I weigh nothing despite the bruises across my ribs. Then the bastard immediately brushes at my shirt with his hand like I’m some toddler who spilled juice on himself.

“Stop fussing,” I slap his hand away. “You’re making it worse.”

“Please, I’m saving you from walking around like a crime scene.” He flicks a speck of blood off my collarbone. “Also, you fight like shit today. The fuck happened.”

“I WON until your dramatic ass showed up and stole my sparkle!”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, “and then you didn’t.”

I shove his shoulder. He shoves back harder. It hurts but I pretend it doesn’t but the asshole actually smirks because he knows it does.

The professor finally finds his voice, stepping forward with his palms up like he’s negotiating nuclear disarmament. “Mr… Zayne, violence outside assigned pairing is strictly—”

Zayne snaps his attention toward him so fast the poor man jolts.

“Get someone to clean up the bum on the combat class floors,” he says, jerking his chin toward Liam’s limp body. “There are students here who actually give a fuck about learning.”

The professor swallows so loudly I hear it from here. “Y—yes. Immediately.” He rushes toward the door, barking orders at two assistants who look like they’d rather drop out than touch Liam.

Around us, the students part like the Red Sea, whispering, staring, trying not to meet Zayne’s eyes. I try to find Milicent in the crowd but she's suddenly disappeared. I wonder when and why she left.

I wipe the corner of my lip where blood is drying and look at him again. “You know,” I mutter, “you really have issues.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, still glaring at the mess on the floor. “But they’re useful.”

I can’t even argue.

Because right now?

Yeah. They are.

Zayne’s knuckles were still stained with Liam’s blood, and it was kind of hilarious how he didn’t even bother properly wiping it off. Dude looked like he walked straight out of a gladiator pit. He had just straight up beaten someone into next week.

The hall smelled like sweat and fear, and someone’s water bottle rolling on the floor made an echo that felt too loud. Students hovered near the walls, whispering like pigeons scattering from crumbs. Typical Silverfang drama hour.

He turned to me again, eyes alert in the Zayne way, which meant intense, annoyed, but also weirdly soft because he’d literally torn someone apart for insulting me.

“Where’s Milicent?” he asked, brows creasing as he scanned the crowd. “She was right here.”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, stretching my neck that was already stiff from getting tossed around. “She was literally right here. And then she wasn’t.” Zayne’s mouth curved, that annoying older-brother smirk that always meant I was about to get roasted. And I did.

“Mmm. She probably didn’t want to see you looking like a smashed blueberry,” he teased, nudging my shoulder. “Can’t blame her. If I saw my mate get folded like laundry, I’d disappear too.”

I hissed, “Bro, shut up,” and shoved him, but it only made him snort. “Just saying,” he added. “You looked very… defeated.”

“Oh, go choke on air, Zayne.”

“That’s your comeback?” He laughed, deep and shameless. “Embarrassing.”

Before I could respond, Milo popped into our conversation like he’d been summoned by the universe just to add chaos. He had this flushed face from running and this dramatic sigh like he’d been suffering his entire life because of us.

“Wow. So this is what it is now?” he asked, throwing his hands up. “Just the two of you bonding over attempted murder without me? I swear, I feel left out this semester. Before, it was always us four, but Bishop is always missing and now it’s just you two making trouble. Princes of Lust has officially broken up. Damn. I thought we we're all closer than that.”

I blinked at him and grimaced. “Why does it sound so cringe when you say it out loud?” Milo pouted. “I’m being serious.”

Zayne didn’t even soften. “Yeah and you sound like someone mourning a boyband breakup.”

“Whatever,” Milo grumbled.

Zayne rolled his shoulders like he was shrugging off the conversation and slipped straight into his Alpha-brain mode, tone dropping. “Anyway—Milo, you’re still in contact with your rogue friends, right?”

I choked on nothing. “Milo has rogue friends?” Milo’s jaw dropped. “Okay first of all—don’t say it like I hang out with serial killers.”

Zayne raised a brow. “You kind of do.”

“They’re not all bad!” Milo argued, defensive but also guilty as hell. “Just because they come from rogue bloodlines doesn’t mean they’re evil. They’re just… chaotic. Questionable. They steal a lot. But they’re not—like—bad bad.”

Zayne narrowed his eyes. “Are they bad?”

Milo deflated. “Okay yeah—they’re kind of the worst influences ever. But they’re my people, so watch your mouth.”

Zayne exhaled hard through his nose, annoyed but focused. “Fine. Whatever. I need their help.” Milo blinked. “YOU Zayne needs help? Why?”

Zayne jerked his chin at Liam’s unconscious body being dragged toward the nurse’s office. “Him. Something’s off about that kid. And now there’s talk of a rogue spy somewhere in the school.”

Milo’s eyes widened. “You think he’s connected?”

“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Zayne said bluntly. “Ask your people. They know rogue networks better than anyone.”

Milo hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll try. But if they start asking for payment, I’m blaming you.” Zayne flicked his fingers. “Tell them they’ll get whatever they want if they don’t waste my time.”

Milo’s eyes sparkled. “Whatever? Like—anything?” Zayne gave him a stare that could peel paint. “Don’t test me.”

“Right right,” Milo said quickly. “I’ll keep it basic.”

Zayne rolled his eyes. “Good. Also check the school group chat. Someone must’ve uploaded photos of him already. Just in case he used a fake name.” Milo perked up. “Oh yeah, girls in this school post everything. I’ll look.”

While they talked, my stomach gnawed at me. Not from fear. From this weird unease that crawled under my ribs. “I’m texting Milicent,” I muttered, unlocking my phone. “Something’s off with her.”

Zayne stopped mid sentence and faced me. “What do you mean?” he asked. “She acted weird earlier,” I admitted. “She… wanted me to talk to Fiona. Out of nowhere. And then she dipped.”

Zayne’s brow furrowed, expression filled, practically drenched with worry. “Maybe Fiona didn’t tell her about being abused by Liam. And Milicent didn’t want to ask in case Fiona didn’t answer her still.”

I blinked at him. “Damn. That actually makes sense.”

“Obviously it makes sense,” Zayne replied. “I have a brain.”

“Debatable,” I said. He flicked my forehead. Milo’s phone buzzed loud enough for all of us to hear. He glanced down.

“Oh—Zephyr just texted back,” he said. “They’re gathering at their usual spot. But uh… you two aren’t invited.”

“What?” I asked.

“You two still have your Alpha aura,” Milo explained, waving his hand at the space around us like we were radiating radio waves. “If you show up, someone’s gonna throw hands. And I’m too pretty to die.”

Zayne shrugged immediately. “Good. I didn’t want to go.”

“Sure,” Milo muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll go meet them before they start arguing with each other.” He took a step back, paused, then pointed between us. “Don’t die while I’m gone. Or do. Actually, your choice.”

Then he left.

Silence settled around us for a few seconds, the kind that wasn’t awkward but heavy with the whole we-just-got-in-a-fight-and-now-stuff-is-weird vibe.

I turned to Zayne. “Why didn’t you follow me earlier?”

He glanced down at his bloodstained hands, then back at me. “Because I didn’t feel like it.”

“That is not an answer.” I argued. “It’s the only one you’re getting,” he said. “Now let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Back to Brooks Manor.”

I stared at him as he walked ahead, his shoulders rolling with that calm, powerful stride that made people get out of his way without even realizing it. He didn’t look back to see if I followed, didn’t slow down, didn’t explain a damn thing.

Just expected me to trust him. Like always.

And the stupid thing? I did.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and jogged after him, heart beating too fast, mind tangled with thoughts of Milicent, rogue rumors, and whatever the hell Zayne was planning next.

“Bro,” I called out, catching up. “You can’t just say ‘Brooks Manor’ like it’s not a forty-minute walk. Bishop's borrowing my car.”

Zayne snorted. “Then walk faster.”

“Annoying.”

“Love you too.”

MILICENT

Earlier.

I was already halfway across the hall, weaving through bodies and scattered training pads, ready to shove Liam off Xander myself because the idiot was pounding my mate’s face like he had any right. I couldn't help the urge to rip off the bracelet and let my wolf out. He was practically asking for it. I wanted nothing more than to tear into him and rip him apart.

Then the ground seemed to shift.

Zayne appeared in front of Liam like he’d been carved out of the air, like he’d been hiding in the shadows waiting for permission to ruin someone’s life. And the second Liam’s eyes flicked up in surprise—

Zayne grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the mat.

The sound echoed, loud enough to snap the scattered chatter in the hall into complete silence. Someone gasped. Someone whispered “oh my goddess.”

I swear the world fell into place for me in that moment.

A smile stretched across my face so vicious it almost startled me. Satisfaction buzzed through my bones as Zayne landed blow after blow, his fists became a blur, so was his movements.

Liam’s blood splattered across the mat in little dark droplets that soaked into the foam. My breathing evened out, steady and calm, like I’d just watched a sunrise instead of someone getting pulverized.

Zayne wasn’t holding back.

Good.

Let him bleed. Let him feel just a hint of what he deserved. And then... Movement in the doorway caught my eye.

Fiona?

She was half-hidden behind the wall, peeking in like a scared kid watching a horror movie she wasn’t ready for. Our gazes snapped into each other, and her whole body jolted. Her eyes went wide, her throat bobbed, and then she turned.

She ran.

“Fiona—hey!” I called, already pushing past two guys who were staring at Zayne like he was a monster out of legend. She didn’t stop.

I caught up to her eventually because Fiona was fast but not me fast.