Chapter — Kael (Lisa and Me)
Lisa never just walks.
She occupies space.
I'd noticed that long before any touch, long before any word that crossed the line of what's acceptable. She enters a room as if she knows she'll be watched — and she likes it. What drew me to her most wasn't her body or her face. It was the awareness she had of herself.
She knew what she was worth.
We were sitting outside the pack's academy, near the oldest trees, where the weaker ones avoided passing because they could feel the weight of the hierarchy in the air. Lisa sat down beside me as if that bench naturally belonged to her. As if it always had.
"You see the way she walked by today?" Lisa remarked, leaning a little closer to me.
I didn't need to ask who.
I never did.
Luara always arrived the same way: head down, steps restrained, trying not to draw attention. As if disappearing were a skill she'd been practicing for years.
"I did," I replied. "She always walks like that. Looks like she's apologizing for existing."
Lisa laughed. A low, beautiful, dangerous laugh.
"That's exactly it." She crossed her legs with ease. "You know what irritates me? She thinks that inspires compassion."
"It inspires pity," I corrected. "And pity doesn't sustain anyone."
Lisa glanced at me sideways, wearing that crooked smile that always appeared when she agreed with me. Our shoulders touched. The contact was casual, but neither of us pulled away.
The chemistry between us never needed an announcement.
"You notice the others too?" she continued, watching the movement around us. "Those two over there—" she pointed discreetly with her chin — "they keep messing up in training. And that girl, the one with brown hair… she still hasn't awakened."
"The pack's gotten weak," I murmured.
"Not weak," Lisa corrected. "Poorly distributed."
I liked that.
She didn't talk like someone resentful. She talked like someone who judges. Like someone who already saw herself above it all.
"They think effort makes up for a lack of talent," she went on. "It's almost cute."
"Almost," I repeated, smiling faintly.
Luara passed by us at that moment.
I felt it. I always did.
She didn't look directly, but her body reacted. Her shoulders stiffened. Her breathing changed. Her gaze tried to flee and yet it came back. It was as if she were tethered to something she couldn't touch.
Lisa noticed too.
"Look at that," she murmured, amused. "Her eyes."
"Always following me," I answered, without even glancing over. "As if I were something she could reach if she just believed hard enough."
"Does that bother you?" Lisa asked, propping her elbow on her knee and staring at me.
I turned my face slowly toward her.
"It irritates me," I replied. "Because she knows who I am. And she still insists."
Lisa smiled.
"Maybe she thinks suffering is a virtue."
"Or that playing the victim earns some kind of reward," I added.
She laughed again. Louder this time.
"If it did, half the pack would be worthy of something," she said. "But they're not."
The wind swept between us, carrying the scent of the forest and the distant murmur of younger wolves training. Lisa leaned in once more, now clearly invading my space.
"You're never going to look at her, are you?" she asked, without a single trace of insecurity.
"No," I answered without hesitation. "Because I know how to recognize strength."
She held my gaze for a few seconds too long to be casual.
"Good," she said. "Because I don't share what's mine."
It didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded like a fact.
When Lisa stood, she extended her hand to me without even checking whether I'd take it. I took it. I always did. We walked together across the courtyard, aware of the stares, aware of the whispers.
Behind us, the heavy silence of those who'd never be chosen.
Luara stayed behind. As always.
And in that moment, I didn't think of her with guilt.
I thought of her the way you think of something out of place.
Something that exists…
But should never have dared to look up.
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