Chapter 11
Jackson's POV
I closed the door of my private office at the dance society headquarters, leaning against it for a moment as I processed my encounter with Ellie.
Crossing to my desk, I settled into the leather chair that had remained unused during my semester-long absence. As an exchange student at Northwestern's medical program, I'd missed the fall recruitment period entirely. Today marked my first day back at Cedar View University, and already I'd stumbled upon something—someone—unexpected.
I picked up the folder labeled "New Recruits" that Taylor had left on my desk and began flipping through the profiles. Halfway through, a familiar name caught my eye: Ellie Green, first-year computer science student. Her application photo showed those striking amber eyes I'd just seen up close behind the music building, though here they lacked the pain and wariness I'd witnessed.
"Interesting coincidence," I thought, though as a werewolf—even one who'd suppressed his nature—I knew true coincidences were rare.
I set down her file and picked up the schedule for the upcoming anniversary performance. Ellie was listed as one of the featured dancers—a position typically reserved for experienced members, not freshmen. Her talent must be exceptional, or perhaps Taylor had been playing favorites again.
My mind drifted back to our encounter. The moment I'd approached her, I'd detected that unmistakable scent of pine and wildflowers—a werewolf's natural signature. More importantly, I'd felt that peculiar resonance, that soul-trembling connection that only occurs when a wolf encounters their destined mate.
She hadn't recognized what I was, of course. At fifteen, I'd made sure of that. The "Moon Shadow Ritual" had sealed away my wolf—the powerful gray named Orion—deep within my soul. To other werewolves, I appeared as nothing more than a human with perhaps a distant wolf ancestry, not worth a second glance.
It had been a necessary sacrifice. My parents—an Alpha and Luna pair respected throughout the region—had died in what was officially called an accident when I was barely seven years old. My uncle stepped in as the new Alpha, all sympathetic smiles and reassuring words. But even as a child, I'd sensed the truth beneath his kindness. He would never want me, the rightful heir, to claim the Alpha position once I came of age.
The ritual had been my protection. By sealing away Orion and appearing as a "failure" who never awakened his wolf nature, I became unthreatening. My uncle's interest in me waned, and I gained the freedom to forge my own path, safely removed from pack politics. If I hadn't hidden my abilities, I likely would have met the same fate as my parents before I ever reached adulthood.
I tried not to view my parents' "accident" as murder, but the possibility had shadowed me throughout my childhood. Too many coincidences, too many whispered conversations that stopped when I entered a room.
The irony wasn't lost on me that after five years of avoiding pack entanglements, I'd immediately recognized my destined mate the moment I met her.
Voices in the hallway pulled me from my thoughts. I recognized Taylor's exaggerated tone immediately, followed by a softer, more determined female voice that made Orion stir within me.
"Oh my god, Ellie, what happened to your shoulder?" Taylor's voice carried through the door.
Rising from my chair, I moved closer to listen.
"It's just a minor injury. It'll be better by tomorrow," Ellie's voice was firm and clear.
I smiled slightly. She wasn't exaggerating her abilities—werewolves healed remarkably fast, especially with the right treatment. If she made it back to her dorm and applied the proper salve, her wolf would accelerate the healing process. By tomorrow, she'd be perfectly capable of dancing.
But that wasn't the point. Someone had deliberately hurt her with silver, which meant they were specifically trying to prevent her from performing. Whether they knew about her werewolf nature or were simply using silver as a weapon, the intent was clear—keep Ellie off the stage. If she appeared unaffected, they might try something worse next time.
I heard Taylor's voice grow more insistent. "Ellie, that injury looks worse than you're letting on. Maybe we should find someone to replace you for the anniversary performance. We can't risk—"
That was my cue. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open my office door and stepped into the hallway.
"I'll take her place," I announced as I approached the dance studio, my voice carrying with quiet authority.
All eyes turned toward me. Ellie's expression shifted from determination to surprise as she recognized me from our earlier encounter.
"Mr. President! You're finally back!" Taylor's voice rose by several octaves, his face breaking into an exaggerated smile. "We really need your help!"
I acknowledged Taylor with a nod before turning my attention to Ellie.
"Hello, I'm Jackson Wilson, president of the dance society," I formally introduced myself, though we'd already met.
"Ellie Green, first-year computer science student," she replied cautiously.
"I think I should take your place in the anniversary performance," I said directly, my voice leaving no room for argument.
Ellie's eyes flashed with displeasure. "What? My shoulder is just a little injured. I can definitely—"
"I've reviewed the choreography," I interrupted smoothly, "and I believe I can perform your part without requiring significant changes to the overall piece."
I deliberately avoided any mention of silver or her true injury in front of the others. This conversation needed to happen privately.
Taylor practically bounced with excitement. "That would be amazing! Having the president perform will definitely elevate our showcase!"
Ellie's jaw tightened, and I could almost see her wolf bristling beneath the surface. She didn't appreciate being sidelined, especially by someone she barely knew.
"I've been practicing for weeks," she said, her voice controlled but with an undercurrent of frustration. "I don't think—"
"It's decided," I said firmly. "As president, I need to ensure the performance meets our standards, especially for such an important event."
She held my gaze for a long moment, clearly struggling with her pride. Finally, she relented with a tight smile.
"Fine. You're the president, so of course you get the final say."
I spent the next hour running through the choreography with the team, making minor adjustments to accommodate my style while keeping the essence of the original piece. Throughout the rehearsal, I could feel Ellie's gaze tracking my every move from where she sat on the sidelines, her expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
As the session ended and dancers began filing out, I approached Taylor.
"I need to discuss some association matters with Ellie. Could you make sure everyone else clears out?"
Taylor looked momentarily disappointed but nodded. "Of course, President! Anything you need!"
Once we were alone, Ellie wasted no time. "What was that about? I can dance perfectly well, and you know it."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Have you considered that whoever hurt you with that silver object had a specific purpose?"
Ellie's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"