Chapter 140
Caleb's POV
The "Spring Semester Teaching Quality Enhancement Workshop" began at 2:00 PM sharp.
Two. And. A. Half. Hours.
Dr. Harrison commandeered the projector, cycling through approximately four hundred slides of pie charts and bar graphs. "As you can see from this data visualization, student engagement metrics show a direct correlation with active learning methodologies—"
I sat ramrod straight—Alpha posture drilled into me since childhood—and felt my sanity slowly erode.
Forty minutes on classroom participation strategies. Another thirty on "sustainable campus initiatives" that mostly involved reducing plastic fork usage.
My father commands three hundred wolves. I've negotiated territorial treaties with the Romanian packs. I've sat through pack tribunals that determined life and death.
And I'm listening to humans debate recycling bins.
My enhanced hearing made it worse. I could hear everything: the coffee maker dripping in the break room, students laughing in the courtyard three floors down, a squirrel cracking open a nut on a windowsill outside.
Every sound was a reminder that I was wasting time, trapped in this performance, when I should be—
"Caleb?" Dr. Harrison's voice cut through my thoughts. "Would you mind sharing your perspective? I'm sure our colleagues would love to hear about teaching methodologies in European institutions."
Every face turned toward me expectantly.
Mierda.
I stood smoothly, forcing my expression into something appropriately thoughtful. "Of course. In my experience, European universities place particular emphasis on student autonomy and self-directed learning. We focus on creating frameworks that support individual development while maintaining rigorous academic standards. Cross-disciplinary collaboration is encouraged through—"
I spoke for three minutes, saying absolutely nothing of substance, and watched them all nod along like I'd delivered profound wisdom.
When I finally sat down, Dr. Harrison beamed at me. "Excellent insights! Thank you so much for sharing."
The meeting dragged on until 4:37 PM.
The door to my room closed with a satisfying click. I stripped off the constraining suit jacket, loosened my tie, and permitted myself a long, frustrated exhale.
Finally.
I poured two fingers of Rioja—the good bottle I'd brought from Barcelona—and stood at the window. Cedar View University spread below, campus lights beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk.
The tension that had coiled in my shoulders for weeks began to unwind.
No fated bond. No destined Luna strengthening his claim. Just a college romance.
I took a slow sip of wine, letting the implications settle.
All this urgency. All this elaborate planning. The careful infiltration, the tedious cover story, the endless preparations for what Father had called "the most critical challenge of your life."
And Jackson Wilson turned out to be... this. A boy playing house with his girlfriend. No mate bond to amplify his power. No destiny backing his claim to Alpha.
Pathetic.
A laugh bubbled up from my chest—low and genuinely amused. I'd been so careful. So serious. Treating this like a genuine threat to the Martinez line.
But looking at it clearly now, with the panic stripped away... what was Jackson, really?
A scared kid who'd run from his heritage. Who'd hidden at university, pretending to be human, dating a pretty werewolf girl because she was convenient and nearby. He had Alpha blood, yes, but he lacked everything that mattered: the mate bond that would cement his power, the pack loyalty his father had commanded, the ruthlessness necessary to actually challenge for succession.
He's no threat. He's barely worth the effort I've already expended.
I pulled out my phone and composed a message to Marcus:
M: Update from Cedar View. Target situation less critical than anticipated. E.G. unmarked—no fated bond with J.W. Relationship appears ordinary campus romance. Threat level significantly reduced. However, maintain surveillance. This could be... entertaining. Will provide updated strategy shortly. -C
I hit send and opened my laptop, but instead of the formal report I'd planned, I found myself smiling at the screen.
Why rush?
Father expected me back in Europe within two months to begin formal succession proceedings. But if Jackson wasn't a real threat... why not take my time? Why not enjoy myself a little?
The Martinez succession had been hanging over my head my entire life. Every action scrutinized, every relationship calculated, every moment of my existence devoted to proving I was worthy of the Alpha position that should be mine by right.
And here I was, on a beautiful American campus, with unlimited resources and a couple of foolish children who had no idea what was coming.
Why not play with them first?
I began typing, but not the serious tactical report Father expected. Instead, I opened a new document—"Campus Integration Strategy: Extended Timeline."
Jackson Wilson wanted to play at being normal? Wanted to pretend he could have a college romance and a nice simple life?
Fine. Let him have it. For now.
Let him think he's safe. Let him get comfortable. Let him get so wrapped up in his little girlfriend and his street dance club and his pre-med dreams that he forgets what he is. What I am. What's really at stake.
And then, when he's completely off-guard, when he thinks the danger has passed...
That's when I'll remind him.
Not through formal challenge—that would be over too quickly. Not through pack politics—too predictable.
No, this called for something more... creative. More fun.
I took another sip of wine, ideas beginning to flow.
What would hurt Jackson Wilson most?
His girlfriend, obviously. The pretty little werewolf who thought she could have a normal college life. It would be so easy to destabilize their relationship. A few well-placed comments, some strategic encounters, maybe a friend or two who suddenly starts questioning whether they're really right for each other...
Not to destroy them immediately. That would be crude.
But to introduce doubt. Stress. Little cracks in their perfect romance. Watch Jackson try to hold it together while the pressure builds. Watch him fail.
That's entertainment.