Chapter 115: REACTION.

Maria.

My heart started beating loudly against my chest. Not the steady rhythm I was used to, but a frantic pounding, as though it were trying to break free from my ribs. Each thud echoed in my ears, drowning out every other sound around me.

The corridor seemed to blur.

And then...The academy.

The memories came rushing back without warning.

Images flashed across my mind so vividly it felt as though I had been thrown back in time. The smell of hay. The sharp scent of polished leather saddles. The wide training field bathed in afternoon sunlight.

I had been so blind back then.

So foolishly, hopelessly blind.

I loved him.

That was the truth I had refused to question.

I loved him enough to ignore the cracks, I loved him enough to silence my doubts, I loved him enough to keep quiet when I should have spoken.

I told myself it was loyalty.

I convinced myself it was patience.

If I stayed by his side...If I didn’t complain...If I endured quietly...One day, he would see me.

One day, he would look at me not as someone convenient, but as someone precious.

I had sworn to keep quiet.

Sworn to endure.

Hoping that in return, he would finally care for me.

But he didn’t.

The memory sharpened.

It was the horse-riding competition at the academy.

Everyone had gathered around the training grounds that day. The excitement had been electric. Three rounds were set to determine the winner. Three chances to prove skill, control, and endurance.

He had been confident at the start.

Too confident.

But during the first round, things didn’t go as planned.

He came third.

I still remembered the tightness in his jaw when the results were announced. The forced calm in his expression. The way his hands had clenched briefly before relaxing again.

They had taken a short break before the second round.

The contestants were resting, drinking water, and adjusting their gear, preparing.

And that was when I saw it.

Darren had moved casually, almost lazily, as though stretching his legs. No one paid him much attention. Why would they? He was one of the competitors.

But I saw him.

I saw the moment his hand hovered too long over one of the water bottles.

I saw the quick glance around him.

And then...he added something into it.

Something small.

Something deliberate.

My breath had caught back then, just as it did now at the memory. Before I could even process it fully, he crouched beside his own riding boots.

At first, I thought he was tightening them.

But he wasn’t.

He had added spikes.

Sharp.

Hidden along the inner corners.

Subtle enough not to draw attention immediately.The realization horrified me.

The outcome of it had been deadly.

I could still hear the scream of the horse as it lost control, the chaos that followed, the dust rising violently into the air, the contestant collapsing, people shouting.

Running.

The competition turned into panic within seconds.

And I had stood there.

Frozen.

My heart racing, my mouth dry.

I knew.

I had known.

And yet...I said nothing.

Oh no!

The present crashed back into me with suffocating force.

If he had done it before, If he had been capable of that...then what did "no matter what it takes" truly mean?

The only person that came to my mind instantly was Noah.

My chest tightened painfully at the thought of him.

Noah.

Innocent.

Unaware.

Would he become collateral damage?

Would he be in Darren’s way?

My breathing grew shallow.

I prayed,not softly, not half-heartedly, but desperately. I prayed that Noah wouldn’t get hurt, that whatever Darren was planning wouldn’t involve him.

That history wouldn’t repeat itself.

The urge to run to Noah right that second overwhelmed me. I wanted to see him. To make sure he was safe. To warn him, even if I couldn’t explain properly.

But then another thought stopped me.

Anabel.

Was she still with him?

The last thing I needed was to stumble into another confrontation. Another scene. I didn’t have the strength for it.

Not tonight.

Not with my body trembling and my thoughts spiraling.

I forced myself to breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slowly.

I needed space.

I needed to think.

I marched toward my room, my steps heavier than usual. Every part of me felt exhausted.

My body ached.

My legs felt like they were carrying twice their weight.

My head throbbed faintly, as though my thoughts themselves were bruising my mind from the inside.

And as if that wasn’t enough, another image forced its way into my consciousness.

Adrien.

Kissing Vanessa.

The memory was sharp.

Cruel.

It replayed over and over without mercy. The way his hand had rested on her waist. The closeness. The ease.

As though I had never existed.As though I had never mattered.I tried to push it away. I tried to focus on something else.But it clung stubbornly to my thoughts.

I couldn’t help it.

Frustration boiled inside me.

Pain mixed with anger.

And before I even realized what I was doing, I kicked at a small stone along the path.

It skidded forward with a sharp scrape against the ground. I kicked another. Harder this time. As though the stones were responsible for everything.

As though I could vent the storm inside me through the force of my steps.

But the ache didn’t lessen.

Not in my body.

Not in my heart.

Not in my mind.

I took the next turn toward the corridor of my room, my steps hesitant, my chest still pounding from the whirlwind of emotions that had plagued me all afternoon. The hallway stretched before me like a thin thread of safety, a quiet refuge away from the chaos that had erupted just moments ago. And then, almost as if summoned by my own longing for comfort, I saw a figure standing against the doorway, his posture steady, his presence grounding in a way that made my heart skip a beat.

I slowed my pace at first, unsure if I was imagining him, but as I drew closer, the outline became unmistakable. It was Daniel. Just Daniel. Calm, composed, and undeniably Alpha in his aura, yet there was a softness to him that made me want to collapse into relief.

A wave of calm washed over me, a contrast to the storm raging in my chest moments ago. Relief, sudden and warm, curled through me like sunlight cutting through a stormy sky. I quickened my pace without thinking, my feet eager to close the distance, my mind desperate to reach the safety of his presence. I hadn’t had the chance to thank him properly for what he did for me—not yet—and the thought of doing so made my steps lighter, despite the heaviness I still carried inside.

The moment I reached his side, I didn’t hesitate. Words tumbled out of my mouth, tripping over themselves in my urgency to express my gratitude. "Thank you so much, Alpha Daniel!" My voice cracked slightly, betraying the storm of emotion I had tried to keep at bay.

Without warning, he reached out and pulled me into a hug. The sudden contact made me catch my breath, and for a moment, I let myself feel the security it offered. His embrace was firm, protective, yet gentle, like a shield against the world and all its cruelty. And just as quickly as it came, he pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning me as if taking in every detail, measuring, assessing, making sure I was unharmed.

"Did Alpha Adrein hurt you?" His voice was low, steady, and edged with concern. I felt a jolt in my chest at the way he searched me, his hands brushing against my arms and shoulders lightly but purposefully, his gaze holding mine in a way that made me feel seen, really seen, for the first time that day.

My heart softened completely. How had I not realized how much I needed this reassurance? How much it mattered that someone, not a Quadruplet, not an enemy, but someone like Daniel, was willing to stand for me, to protect me, to care for me?

"I’m fine, Alpha Daniel," I said quickly, forcing a smile despite the lingering adrenaline in my body. "He didn’t hurt me."

His eyes softened at my words, though his hands lingered just a moment longer, as if making sure my lie—or truth—was genuine. Then he took a deep, grounding breath, and I could see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

"Daniel," he said firmly, yet gently, correcting the formal title I had been clinging to out of habit. "Call me Daniel. Not Alpha Daniel, not sir—just Daniel."

For a brief, golden moment, the world shrunk to just the two of us. The air between us felt lighter, charged with a quiet intimacy I had never felt before. I felt the corners of my mouth lift in a smile, shy but sincere.

"All right, Daniel," I whispered, almost involuntarily, my voice tinged with relief.

The smile that spread across his face in response was breathtaking. It was slow, genuine, warming every frozen corner of my chest, softening every knot of tension that had twisted inside me. I found myself staring at him, lost, captivated by the simple, unguarded happiness that his smile radiated. It made the world outside fade, Adrein, the Quadruplets, the chaos, all of it, and left only a quiet, delicate bubble of safety that I hadn’t known I needed.

Just as I felt I could finally breathe, a shadow crossed the threshold beside us. I didn’t notice her approach until she was almost upon us.

Galen.

She didn’t speak. No words, no warning. She simply passed by with a silent authority, her expression unreadable yet heavy with intention. And then, with a force that made my stomach tighten, she opened the door fully and slammed it with a loud thud, jamming it into the frame as though declaring her presence, asserting control over the room.

I flinched slightly, startled by the sudden movement, my heart stuttering in my chest. My eyes flicked from the door to her, then back to Daniel. His brow furrowed, though his hands stayed lightly on my arms, keeping me steady.

What was with her reaction? Why did she barge in and act like that? My mind raced through possibilities, each more alarming than the last. Was she angry at me? Or at Daniel? Was it a warning, a threat, or simply a display of authority?

I tried to hide my unease behind a calm exterior, pressing my hands together nervously, but the tension in the air was palpable. Even Daniel seemed to register the sudden intrusion, his gaze sharpening, alert, ready to react.

For a brief moment, I considered stepping back, giving space, but my feet felt rooted to the floor. I couldn’t move. Not while Daniel was here. Not while Galen was here. And certainly not while the memory of the Quadruplets’ accusations still lingered in my chest.

My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice amidst the clamor of confusion and relief swirling inside me.

And in that tense, fragile silence, I realized that despite the chaos, despite the fear and anger and humiliation of the past hours, I had never felt so acutely aware of Daniel, aware of his presence, his protection, and the strange, comforting certainty that perhaps, for the first time in a long while, I was safe.

But Galen’s abruptness reminded me that nothing here was simple. Not Daniel. Not me. Not any of it.

I forced myself to breathe, just a single, steady breath, and prepare for whatever came next. Because if Galen had intervened, it wasn’t just to be dramatic, there was purpose there, and I had to understand it.

And yet, no matter the tension, no matter the questions, no matter the chaos of the hallway just hours ago, I felt a fragile, precious thread of relief that wrapped around me like a shield. Daniel was here. He had come. And for a fleeting, golden moment, that was enough.