The Disciplinary Committee handed down a strict two-week suspension, effectively locking Jojo out of campus until regular lectures commenced a month later.
As they left the administrative block, Franco escorted them to the waiting sedan.
Breena and Jojo settled into the broad leather rear seat while Franco took the wheel, navigating the quiet paved roads toward the village of Hollwaney.
Jojo sat hunched in the corner, her thumb flying across her phone screen in a flurry of rapid taps.
The glow of the display reflected in her wide, fixated eyes.
“Jojo,” Breena murmured, leaning over.
Jojo didn’t flinch.
Her knuckles were white around the frame of the device, her fingers blurring over the keyboard as her brow furrowed in deep concentration.
“Jojo!” Breena repeated, reaching out to snatch the phone right out of her grip.
Jojo gasped, her head snapping up.
She instantly lunged forward, plucking the phone back from Breena’s hand and slamming the screen face-down against her thigh, locking it in a split second.
A nervous flicker passed through her eyes before she smoothed her expression into a tight mask.
Breena studied her friend’s defensive posture, her eyes narrowing.
She had never seen Jojo act so guarded around her.
“Is everything okay?
You look completely rattled.” Jojo swallowed hard, forcing a faint, hollow laugh as she squeezed the phone tighter against her knee.
“My…
my parents just found out about the suspension.
They’re absolutely furious with me.
It’s nothing to worry about.” A wave of guilt hit Breena.
She wrapped her arms around her friend, pulling her into a tight, comforting embrace.
“I’m so sorry, babe.
It’s all my fault.” Jojo leaned into the hug, holding her tight until Franco brought the car to a smooth stop at the edge of Hollwaney village.
She managed a small, reassuring smile as she stepped out onto the road.
“I’ll come visit you at the villa one of these days,” she promised softly, giving Breena one last wave before turning down the path to her house.
The sedan glided forward for another ten minutes, coming to a final halt at the dense, shadowed tree line marking the perimeter of the Black Forest.
Breena leaned forward, resting her arms over the back of the front seat.
“Sir Franco, I can easily take it from here.
You certainly aren’t planning to trek through a thick forest dressed like a wedding guest, are you?” Franco checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, adjusting his bow tie without a hint of amusement.
“Noa, Miss.
This forest is teeming with rogue activity.
My sole directive is to ensure your physical safety.” He opened his door, stepped out into the crisp air, and pulled open her passenger door with unyielding authority.
“There will be no negotiation.
Lead the way.” Breena sighed, stepping onto the damp earth.
Franco was turning into a persistent stain she couldn’t scrub off.
But she knew these woods like the back of her hand—every hidden root, hollow trunk, and pitfall.
If he insisted on dogging her steps, she would make him regret every single footstep.
Setting a brisk pace, Breena guided him down a narrow, overgrown trail.
Ahead, the thick layer of damp leaves covered a deep, mud-filled pitfall trap left behind by local hunters.
She stepped lightly along the firm rim of the ledge, her footwork nimble and practiced.
Franco stepped directly into the center of the path behind her.
CRACK!
The rotting branches beneath the leaves gave way under his heavy, muscular frame.
“Shit!” Franco barked as the ground vanished beneath him.
He plunged straight down with a heavy splash, disappearing into a deep shaft filled with stagnant, muddy water.
Breena turned around, creeping to the edge of the pit with a bright, triumphant grin.
Looking down into the dark hole, she could barely make out his slicked-back hair floating above the muddy surface.
“Did you really think you were cleverer than me?” Breena called down, her tone dripping with sweet sarcasm.
“I told you I don’t like being tailed.” The murky water reached all the way to Franco’s chin.
Even with his superior Lycan strength, the pit was too narrow and deep to leap out cleanly.
He unsheathed his thick Lycan claws, digging them violently into the dirt walls to haul himself up, but the earth was thoroughly saturated and slick, crumbling into mud under his grip.
Franco wiped water from his eyes, glaring up from the depths.
“This is childish, Miss!
Throw down a sturdy vine and help me out!” Breena leaned over the edge, resting her chin in her hands.
“Why should I?
Aren’t you a mighty royal enforcer?
You should be able to pop out of there in no time.” “You will not survive alone in these woods!” Franco growled, his voice echoing off the muddy walls.
“Get me out of here!” “I’ve been foraging in these woods alone for three years,” Breena countered smoothly, taking a step backward.
“Having you tromp around behind me will only draw unwanted attention.
You just sit tight and relax—I’ll come pull you out when I finish gathering the herbs.” Leaving Franco shouting curses into the muddy pit, Breena melted into the shadow of the dense canopy.
By the time he clawed his way through the collapsing mud walls, she would be long finished with her work.
With total freedom, she navigated the winding terrain, pulling wicker baskets and small shears from her bag.
She methodically harvested a wide variety of flora—selecting potent vascular stimulants designed to treat the King’s physiological blockage, alongside a generous handful of irritants meant to make his daily life miserable.
Deep in the heart of the forest, the distant roar of cascading water filled the air.
Breena followed the sound until she reached a rocky clearing overlooking a violent, sixty-foot waterfall.
Suddenly, a raw, terrified sob pierced through the sound of rushing water.
Breena froze.
Looking up toward the canopy near the crest of the waterfall, her heart leaped into her throat.
Suspended directly over the roaring drop was a young girl—no older than sixteen—tied securely by her wrists to a thick tree branch with a heavy rope.
Her small body dangled helplessly over the jagged rocks below.
Breena scrambled up the slick, mossy rocks surrounding the falls, reaching the ledge where the main trunk met the girl’s bindings.
“Hush, stay calm,” Breena urged softly, pulling out her pocket blade to work on the coarse ropes.
“I’m going to get you down from here.” The girl wept hysterically, her eyes wild with terror.
“Please…
don’t!
Run!
It’s a trap…
you’re going to die!” Breena slashed at the first thick knot.
“We’ll worry about that in a second.
Who tied you up here?” Before the girl could answer, a heavy, rhythmic thumping echoed through the damp earth behind her.
Breena’s fingers stilled.
She slowly turned her head, her breath catching in her throat.
Emerging from the thick brush was an enormous rogue wolf—its matted, scar-covered fur bristling with malice.
Drool dripped from its bared fangs, and its blood-red eyes locked onto Breena with predatory hunger.
Breena backed up until her heels hit the edge of the slippery cliff.
The drop and the jagged rocks of the waterfall raged right behind her, slamming the door on any retreat.
The paralyzing terror of heights gripped her chest, locking her knees in place.
The monstrous wolf crouched low, its muscles coiling as it prepared to lunge for her throat.
The young girl screamed.
Breena squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the bone-crushing impact of teeth and claws.
BANG!
A deafening gunshot shattered the forest silence.
Breena felt a heavy weight collapse right beside her feet.
She opened her eyes to see the massive wolf writhing in mud, blood pooling beneath its skull before it went completely still.
Across the clearing, a tall, cloaked man emerged from the shadows, a smoking rifle raised to his eye—and pointed directly at Breena’s chest.
CRACK!
A massive shadow burst from the high canopy above.
A colossal black Lycan—far larger and more ferocious than any ordinary wolf—landed directly on top of the shooter with bone-shattering force.
Razor-sharp claws slashed across the attacker’s throat in a single fluid motion, instantly silencing him.
The Lycan stood over the corpse, its chest heaving.
Slowly, the massive creature straightened, its bones cracking and shifting as the dark fur receded, revealing the towering form of King Dronti.
Breena tried to breathe, but a white-hot spike of agony flared through her torso.
She glanced down in shock to see blood soaking through her pink crop top—the gunman’s bullet had grazed across her rib cage.
Her vision swirled with dark spots.
Her legs buckled under her, and she crumpled toward the damp earth.
Through the hazy, fading twilight of her consciousness, she saw Dronti striding frantically toward her, his face pale with a look she didn’t know he could display on his grumpy face.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me, healer!” Dronti’s voice echoed through the dark abyss pulling her under.
“Stay with me!”