Chapter 16 The Ice King's Test
POV: Mina (Age 17)
I'd barely made it back to my dorm room to wrap my cracked ribs when I found a note slipped under my door.
Private training session. Elite gym. 8 PM. Don't be late. - J.S.
Jax Sterling.
My distant cousin who ruled the Academy with cold calculation and barely concealed cruelty. The one member of the Elite Trio who didn't rely on psychological manipulation or brute force—he used strategy and authority to destroy people.
And he was summoning me to a private session in the elite gym, which was a privilege reserved for the highest-ranking students and their personal guests.
This was a trap. Obviously.
But I couldn't refuse. As family, Jax technically had authority over me. And refusing a direct summons from him would only increase his suspicion that something was wrong.
I checked the time. Seven forty-five. I had fifteen minutes.
I rewrapped my ribs tighter, wincing as the binding pressed against the cracked bones. Then I took another suppressant pill even though I'd already taken one three hours ago. I couldn't afford to have my scent give anything away during a private meeting with someone as perceptive as Jax.
At exactly eight PM, I walked into the elite gym.
The space was massive and empty, designed for personal training sessions away from the masses. High ceilings, reinforced floors, walls lined with every type of training equipment imaginable. And in the center of it all stood Jax Sterling, watching the door with those ice-blue eyes that seemed to see through every lie I'd ever told.
"Punctual," he observed. "Good. I hate waiting."
I pulled out my notepad.
You summoned me?
"We need to talk about your performance today." Jax's voice was perfectly controlled, revealing nothing. "That technique you used on Logan. Where did you learn it?"
Private tutors. Family training.
"Bullshit." The curse sounded strange coming from someone so controlled. "I've been trained by every Sterling combat specialist in our bloodline. None of them taught techniques like that. None of them move like you move."
He started circling me slowly, and I forced myself to stand still and meet his eyes.
"You're hiding something," Jax continued, his voice clinical and precise. "The way you fight. The way you move. Even the way you breathe. You're not who you claim to be."
Fear crept up my spine, but I kept my face neutral and wrote carefully.
I'm Rafe Sterling. Your distant cousin. Nothing more.
"Then explain why your fighting style is completely wrong for a Sterling. Explain why you take excessive amounts of suppressants. Explain why you avoid all social interaction and shower when no one else is around."
My blood ran cold. He'd been watching me. Closely.
"I could report you," Jax said, stopping directly in front of me. "Have you investigated by the Council. They're very thorough with suspected frauds. Very painful too, I've heard. But I'm curious. What secret is worth risking everything?"
I wrote nothing. There was nothing I could write that wouldn't make things worse.
Jax studied my face for a long moment, then moved so fast I barely had time to register the attack.
His fist came toward my face in a perfect straight punch, textbook Sterling technique. I blocked automatically, my arm coming up in the defensive stance Rafe had taught me.
Jax immediately followed with a kick to my ribs. I twisted away, protecting my already injured side, and countered with a strike to his shoulder.
He blocked it easily and pressed the attack, his movements precise and calculated. He wasn't trying to hurt me like Logan had been. He was testing me. Watching how I moved, how I defended, looking for inconsistencies between what I should be doing and what I actually did.
I tried to stick to Rafe's fighting style. The Sterling techniques I'd learned by watching my brother train. But Jax was relentless, forcing me to adapt and improvise.
And when I improvised, the forbidden arts slipped through.
A deflection that was too fluid. A counter-strike that came from an angle no Sterling would use. A footwork pattern that belonged to ancient Oracle combat techniques, not modern pack training.
Jax saw it all.
He stopped mid-strike, his fist frozen inches from my face. His ice-blue eyes were narrowed with intense focus.
"That technique," he said slowly. "That's not Sterling style. That's not even pack style. What are you?"
Before I could respond or write anything, his wolf surged forward.
His eyes flashed golden, his Alpha dominance exploding outward in a wave that made every instinct in my body scream to submit. His wolf was trying to force mine to show itself, to respond to the challenge.
But my wolf was still sealed. Still trapped behind the spell our mother had cast. It couldn't answer his call.
Instead, something else happened.
My Oracle power flickered to life, responding to the threat. Silver light sparked across my hands for just a split second before I shoved them behind my back.
But Jax had seen it. I watched recognition and confusion war across his face.
For a moment, he looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Anger mixed with something else. Something almost like hunger or fascination.
His wolf was reacting to my Oracle power in a way that clearly disturbed him. I could see it in the way his body tensed, the way his breathing changed, the way he took an involuntary step toward me before stopping himself.
He wanted to either kill me or something else entirely. And he didn't know which impulse was stronger.
"Get out," he said suddenly, his voice harsh. "Get out now before I do something we'll both regret."
I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my bag and practically ran from the elite gym, my heart pounding and my hands still tingling with residual Oracle power.
Behind me, I heard Jax slam his fist into something, the sound of impact echoing through the empty gym.
I made it back to my dorm and locked the door, then collapsed against it, trying to catch my breath.
That had been too close. Way too close.
Jax had seen my power. Had watched my hands glow silver. Had felt his wolf react to something it recognized as dangerous and wrong.
He knew I wasn't normal. Knew I was hiding something significant.
The only question was what he planned to do about it.