Right in that precise, ticking second, something anomalous occurred.
All four Alphas simultaneously felt a bizarre, phantom sting ripple through their veins.
An abrupt, disorienting silence blanketed their minds.
Deep within their consciousness, their apex beasts unexpectedly took a collective step backward, releasing a faint, profoundly confused whine in the face of this human’s freezing gray stare.
It felt like an instinctual, hereditary hesitation a genetic block they could neither comprehend nor explain but it forcefully anchored their hands, preventing them from ripping her apart despite the white-hot rage burning in their chests.
Damian froze completely, his gaze locked into hers.
Zane Alistair broke the tension, letting out a low, thoroughly entertained laugh.
He sauntered forward a few steps and lazily threw his weight against the back of an adjacent chair, his fingers twisting a silver ring on his hand.
His eyes gleamed with intense curiosity and malice as he remarked sarcastically: * “Oh, Damian…
it looks like we’ve finally found a creature who doesn’t give a damn about your stern speeches or your terrifying aura.” Zane turned toward Cayden, waving a dismissive hand with an amused grin.
“This redhead possesses a truly fascinating brand of suicidal courage.” Additionally, Asher Frost remained entirely motionless at the final step of the pavilion.
His arms were tightly crossed over his chest, his icy, silent gaze meticulously reading every micro-expression.
He offered no comment and made no move to intervene, but his pitch-black eyes were carefully analyzing Roxy’s uncanny stillness and the inexplicable stability of her human body, which flatly refused to buckle under the crushing weight of the Alphas’ combined pressure.
Cayden slammed his fists down onto the black marble surface so hard the timber beneath it groaned with his fury.
He moved his face an inch closer to hers, placing his other hand firmly on the armrest of her chair to trap her completely.
He spoke through tightly grit teeth in a low whisper vibrating with absolute menace: “I warned you in the attic just a moment ago…
I told you that sharp tongue of yours wouldn’t protect you from claws.” He dropped his voice to a lethal hiss, his face bare inches from hers.
“Yet here you are, publicly putting your own neck under the guillotine in front of the entire academy.
You know damn well that no one is going to save you.” Roxy smoothly adjusted her posture, completely unaffected by his proximity.
She pulled a linen napkin to wipe her fingers with a meticulous, agonizing slowness designed to shred the nerves of every werewolf watching her.
She tossed the used napkin carelessly onto the table.
Then, she raised her head, locking her gaze directly into the eyes of all four Alphas.
A wicked, supremely confident smile spread across her face, completely translating her unyielding desire to challenge them to the absolute limit, her steady voice echoing through the quiet.
“Right now, I am enjoying my dinner,” she murmured.
She picked up her fork again, calmly taking another bite of her food before finishing her thought: “…If my presence here fractures your royal pride to such a miserable degree, you are more than welcome to wait until I finish my plate and clear the space for you.” The crushing pressure of the four Alphas’ combined auras wavered for a single fraction of a second, punctured by absolute, raw disbelief.
Every scathing word that had just rolled off her tongue was nothing short of a direct declaration of war against the ancient centuries of the academy’s hierarchy.
The dead silence rushed right back to fill the void, but this time it was a toxic, suffocating quiet a ticking bomb that thousands of students below watched with racing pulses and wide, frantic eyes.
The silence didn’t last long.
Suddenly, Asher Frost moved.
The fourth Alpha stepped forward, his strides slow, deliberate, and entirely unbothered as he cut across the open space separating the leather chairs from the dark marble table.
His boots were uncannily quiet, leaving no heavy thuds in their wake, but his sharp, frozen features and pitch-black eyes radiated an absolute, unbended finality.
Cayden and Zane lazily shifted their weight outward to give him room, their brows arching in silent curiosity at his sudden, rare intervention; Asher was a creature who almost always chose the shadows of absolute silence.
He halted right at the flank of Roxy’s royal chair.
Bending his towering frame over her with agonizing slowness, he didn’t utter a single syllable.
Instead, he locked his sub-zero stare into her steady gray eyes for a heartbeat a gaze utterly barren of anger, yet heavy with an absolute, hard-wired superiority that viewed Roxy as nothing more than a passing insect whose fragile pride needed to be broken to realign the pack’s balance.
Without warning, his thick, powerful hand shot out toward the table, his solid fingers clamping tightly onto the rim of her golden plate which was still heavily laden with seared meats, dark gravy, and thick, blood-red chili sauce.
Roxy didn’t possess the supernatural reflexes required to read his speed.
Before a single microscopic muscle in her slow human body could flex, Asher forcefully hoisted the heavy plate high into the air and flipped it completely upside down over her vibrant red hair.
The entire contents of the dish rained down at once.
The thick, steaming gravy and viscous sauce aggressively penetrated the strands of her red hair, the dark liquid pooling across her forehead before tracking down over her gray eyes.
It cascaded down her cheeks and the column of her throat, instantly ruining and staining the crisp fabric of her brand-new navy blazer, while chunks of meat and sodden vegetables tumbled off her shoulders to settle heavily in her lap in a horrific, degrading display.
In that exact split second, a massive, collective gasp punctured the air of the Grand Dining Hall, immediately followed by a roaring, savage wave of mocking laughter and venomous jeers.
It erupted from the Beta and Omega tables alike.
The scene was the definition of absolute humiliation; the arrogant human girl who had dared to mock the kings just seconds ago was now sitting there with food dripping down her skull like a common beggar, exposed to thousands of eyes dripping with pure contempt.
Asher took a slow step back, his expression entirely unbended.
He carelessly tossed the empty golden plate onto the marble, the metal unleashing a sharp, ringing chime as it rattled to a stop.
He spoke in a low, dry voice that was as sharp and cold as a razor blade: “Bon appétit.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Z_Hira What do you think of what Asher Frost did?