Zane let out a loud, boisterous roar of laughter that filled the rafters, while Damian stood by with a rigid, severe expression that silently confirmed justice and the natural order had finally been executed.
Roxy’s entire body went completely static.
She felt the searing heat of the gravy stinging against the bare skin of her face, while the mocking laughter and high-pitched jeers battered her from every corner of the hall like a violent, rising tide.
Her pride had been publicly defiled, exposed to the most severe humiliation of her life before the entire pack.
She tightly squeezed her eyelids shut for a single beat, keeping the burning chili sauce from stinging her eyes, while the gears in her mind whirled with a black, catastrophic fury marrying into a lethal, burning desire for a vengeance that would make them pay for this second tenfold.
Slowly, Roxy opened her gray eyes.
Despite the thick gravy clinging to her eyelashes and tracking down her cheeks, the fierce spark in her gaze hadn’t fractured; it had hardened into a cold, metallic ash that carried a promise of violence far more lethal than the growls of their inner beasts.
She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry, and she didn’t even reach up to wipe her face a weak movement that they could interpret as a plea for mercy.
She gripped the armrests of her chair and pushed it back with a slow, deliberate force, the wooden legs letting out a sharp screech that sliced cleanly through the fading roars of laughter shaking the hall.
She stood up with an incredibly straight, unyielding posture.
With absolute, spine-chilling detachment, she casually flicked a few stray vegetables off the shoulder of her ruined navy jacket.
She let her sharp gray eyes drift across the faces of the four Alphas, finally anchoring her gaze directly onto Asher Frost for two long seconds.
Her left eyebrow slowly arched upward, and a faint, wicked, and thoroughly provocative smirk pulled at her sauce-stained lips as if she were the one who had just claimed victory in this skirmish.
Turning with the poise of an absolute monarch, she began her descent down the towering marble pavilion, step by slow step.
She marched with a terrifyingly steady, balanced stride, utterly ignoring the hundreds of mocking taunts, the sneering looks thrown by the Betas, and the wide eyes of the Omegas watching her with a mix of pity and fear.
She crossed the immense length of the hall with food actively dripping from her hair, never accelerating her pace and never bowing her head for a single millimeter.
She planted both palms against the giant wooden double doors, shoved them open, and exited, leaving the fading echo of their laughter behind her as her eerie stillness settled over the room.
She climbed the long flights of stairs leading to the Elite Wing, and from there, she continued up the narrow, twisting wooden steps until she reached the isolation of her abandoned attic.
The door clicked shut, plunging her into a luxurious silence.
She marched directly to her small wardrobe, yanking out a clean white cotton shirt and a pair of comfortable black trousers.
She shoved her black, raging fury down into the deepest, coldest depths of her mind, where her thoughts immediately began constructing the blueprint for her next move.
Minutes later, she slipped back down to the Alphas’ private floor, navigating the sprawling corridors illuminated by the amber glow of crystal chandeliers and lined with thick crimson carpets.
She moved with a silent, rhythmic stride, her eyes scanning the grand hallway for a place to wash away the filth, until her gaze locked onto a massive double door at the very end of the corridor.
It was crafted from heavy black ebony wood inlaid with intricate gold leaf, bearing an elegant, polished brass plaque engraved with bold lettering: **”THE ROYAL ALPHA SPA”** This territory was the heavily guarded, strictly forbidden sanctuary of the academy’s four apex predators a haven of natural hot springs and private relaxation chambers where not even the highest-ranking Betas dared to dream of crossing the threshold.
Roxy didn’t hesitate for a single fraction of a second.
She didn’t care about crossing their red lines again.
She extended a clean hand, gripping the heavy golden handle and pushing inward.
The door yielded with a smooth, silent glide, and a wave of thick, pressurized heat rolled over her face, heavily perfumed with rising steam, fresh pine, and wild lavender welcoming her directly into the private den of the monsters who had humiliated her downstairs.
She slowly pushed the heavy timber shut behind her, the latch clicking into place to completely isolate her from the outside corridor as a luxurious, heavy quiet enveloped her.
Sprawling before her gray eyes was an immense sanctuary.
The soaring walls were constructed from highly polished black basalt stone that perfectly mirrored the amber flickers of aromatic candles strategically placed throughout the space.
Dense ribbons of white steam twisted into the air like magic, drifting lazily between towering marble pillars that ringed a massive, bubbling hot spring.
“Those bastards certainly enjoy their luxuries,” she murmured, a dry whisper cutting through the steam.
She glided across the warm marble tiling, neatly placing her clean change of clothes onto a plush black leather bench resting in a private lounge alcove.
She stepped in front of a giant wall mirror encased in an ornate gold frame, studying her face still heavily streaked with dried gravy and the sticky, ruined strands of her red hair clumping wildly together.
The evidence of her public degradation was absolute, yet her facial features remained completely unbroken.
Instead, her eyes flared with a lethal, freezing calm as she analyzed how much pathetic weakness these Alphas tried to mask with their manufactured dominance.
With slow, deliberate movements dripping with high-born arrogance, Roxy peeled off the stained navy blazer and unzipped her skirt, letting the ruined fabric drop to the floor, her mind whispering with biting sarcasm: *”They truly believe they possess the power to break my pride with a little gravy.
As if I haven’t spent my entire life surviving piles of filth far larger than this.”* She walked with a firm, unbothered stride toward the massive glass rainfall shower enclosure at the flank of the spring.
She twisted the valve, unleashing a heavy, roaring torrent of steaming water, and stepped directly beneath the spray.
She stood perfectly still, letting the downpour cascade over her red hair.
With absolute detachment, she watched the water turn a dark, murky red as the chili sauce dissolved and ran down into the drain, speaking to herself with rigid certainty: *”Asher Frost…
you thought you were teaching me a lesson, but in reality, you just put yourself at the absolute top of my hit list.”* She thoroughly scrubbed her hair until the last traces of grease vanished, washing away every microscopic remainder of the passing insult, converting the memory into pure, black fuel for her impending retaliation.
Once she was certain her hair and skin were completely pristine, she shut off the water and wrapped her frame inside a thick, snow-white silk bathrobe she found hanging on a nearby brass hook.
She turned toward a luxurious carved wooden table lined with ancient crystal decanters.
Her eyes instantly locked onto a dark bottle of heavily aged, premium wine a vintage reserved exclusively for the Royal Elite.
The corner of her mouth twisted into a cold, mocking smirk as she whispered wickedly to the empty room: *”Since I already paid the price of admission upfront, I have every right to partake in your finest assets without asking for permission.”* She extended her slender fingers, gripping the heavy crystal bottle and pouring a generous stream of the deep, blood-red liquid into a flawless crystal goblet.
She raised the glass with agonizing slowness, taking a measured, steady sip.
The rich heat of the vintage rolled down her throat, instantly restoring a profound sense of absolute control to her veins.
She walked with a fluid, relaxed stride toward the massive, circular jacuzzi built into the center of the basalt floor.
The churning water pulsed with a rhythmic, heavy warmth, sending thick plumes of lavender-scented steam spiraling into the rafters.
Roxy untied the belt, letting the white silk robe slide off her shoulders and pool onto the stone floor.
She stepped down into the bubbling heat with calculated slowness, sinking her frame deep into the pulsing currents, which immediately began to soothe the tight tension in her muscles and the dull ache in her back from where Cayden had slammed her against the wall earlier.
She rested her damp red hair against the smooth marble rim of the jacuzzi, raising the crystal goblet in her hand.
She closed her gray eyes, letting herself sink into a state of royal, stolen relaxation right in the dead center of the beasts’ private den.
She exhaled a long, deep breath, her rebellious mind returning to its calculations: *”A werewolf academy…
a territory for apex predators and Elites?
It looks like nothing more than a glorified cage full of volatile animals …..animals that will be incredibly easy to manipulate once I map out exactly where their breaking points hide.”* She took another slow sip of the rich wine, a wicked smile expanding across her face in the dark as she murmured: * “I’ll have every single one of you spinning around my little finger very, very soon.” The silence inside the spa was immense and heavy, punctuated only by the low, rhythmic churning of the bubbling springs and the quiet drift of the rising steam.
But right at the peak of her isolation, while she was deeply immersed in the blueprint of her vengeance, a sudden, heavy pulse altered the air pressure of the room.
Roxy’s eyes snapped open.
Through the heavy hiss of the bubbling water, she clearly heard the distinct, metallic turn of the main ebony door handle.
The massive wood creaked softly on its hinges, announcing that someone had just walked inside.