The Court of Judgment

POV: Selah

The ring of my burner phone sliced through the stale motel air, dragging me out of a restless slumber. I groaned, blindly smacking the nightstand until my fingers hit the cheap plastic casing. My eyes burned as the screen glared in the dark room. Seven in the morning. I had dragged cardboard boxes and trash bags into this rundown motel until three in the morning, desperate to relocate before anyone tracked my digital footprint. Every bone in my body ached.

"Yeah?" I mumbled into the receiver, my voice thick with sleep.

"Echo! That encryption system you built last night was brilliance!" Jace’s voice blasted through the speaker.

I winced, yanking the phone away from my ear. "Jace, it's early. Let me sleep."

"They are losing their minds over there!" he shouted, ignoring my exhaustion. "Cross Corporation’s security team is stunned. You blocked those cyber attacks like it was nothing. They are begging to set up an in-person meeting with Echo."

The irony hit my sleep-addled brain like a bucket of ice water. Kaelen Cross was tearing the city apart trying to find my hacker alter ego, while I was trying to stay off his radar in real life. I sat up in bed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Tell them Echo is taking a break," I ordered, my voice firming up. "And Jace? Not a single word about me to them. Do you understand? Not my real name, not where I live. Nothing."

"I know the drill, Echo. Your secret is locked down. Client confidentiality is sacred to me."

"Keep it that way."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the lumpy mattress. Sleep was gone. I stared at the water stains on the ceiling, dreading the day ahead. The walls were closing in on me.

Morning classes passed in a blur of half-open eyes and stifled yawns. By the time I walked into the gymnasium for afternoon volleyball practice, my caffeine crash was in full swing. The bright fluorescent lights glared down on the polished wooden floor.

Coach Graves blew his silver whistle. "Pair up! Drills start in two minutes."

Sneakers squeaked against the floorboards as students scrambled. Within seconds, the gym was divided into neat little teams. I stood stranded in the dead center of the court, gripping my water bottle.

Gemma Hayes made sure everyone noticed my isolation. She planted her hands on her hips, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, and projected her voice for the entire gym to hear. "No one wants to team up with someone who sleeps around and gets kicked out of packs."

Her clique erupted into high-pitched giggles. I stared at the net, feigning indifference. Let them talk. I was used to wearing my loneliness like armor.

"Hey. Need a partner?"

I looked up. Cleo Finch stood a few feet away, offering a bright smile. She held a volleyball on her hip, looking at me with zero judgment.

I narrowed my eyes, assessing the trap. "Why?" I asked cautiously.

"Because you don't seem like the terrible person they say you are," Cleo replied easily. She took a step closer, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "And I hate those gossiping girls just as much as you do."

As she invaded my personal space, a distinct aroma hit my nose. Pine, rain, and power. The rich scent of a noble wolf radiated from her skin.

"You're a wolf," I stated bluntly.

Cleo jumped, startled by my directness. She fumbled the volleyball, letting it drop to the floor. "How did you—" She leaned in, flaring her nostrils to catch my scent. A deep frown creased her forehead. "Are you? I can't smell anything on you."

My scent had faded over the years. A survival mechanism from living as an isolated rogue, hiding from alphas who wanted to use me.

"If you hang out with me in public, you will ruin your social reputation," I warned her, keeping my tone harsh. "It is better if you keep your distance."

Cleo grabbed the ball from the floor and tossed it back to me. "I don't back down just because of some mean girls. We're playing."

I caught the ball, secretly touched by her stubborn loyalty. "Fine."

We barely took our positions on the court before a heavy volleyball came hurtling straight at Cleo’s head. It moved with alarming speed, aimed to cause damage.

My instincts snapped into action. I moved in a blur, my hand shooting up to smack the ball away before it could smash into her face. The impact stung my palm, the sharp sound echoing loudly through the massive gym.

Gemma strutted over, flanked by her cronies. "Nice fast reflexes," she praised sarcastically. "Is that how you attacked that innocent human back in Portland?"

Whispers erupted around us. The gym grew tense as students stopped their drills to watch the drama unfold.

"Shut up and just practice your volleyball," I replied coldly. I tossed the ball away, refusing to engage with her petty baiting.

Emboldened by her captive audience, Gemma closed the distance. She stepped right into my personal space and shoved me hard in the chest.

Beneath my skin, my wolf snarled. She pushed against my mental barriers, furious at the physical challenge. My muscles coiled. My fangs ached to drop.

Cleo grabbed my arm tight. Her grip kept me grounded in the present moment.

Gemma sneered, mistaking my restraint for fear. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" She lunged forward to push me a second time.

I simply shifted my weight and fluidly sidestepped.

Gemma shoved nothing but air. Losing her momentum, she flailed, lost her balance, and hit the hard wooden floor with a heavy thud.

For a second, there was silence. Then Gemma began screaming hysterically.

"She pushed me! Look at her! She's crazy! She attacked me!"

Students swarmed us instantly. Cell phones popped up, recording my face from every angle. I squeezed my eyes shut for a fraction of a second, fighting a brutal internal battle to keep my irises from glowing their unnatural silver.

"What is going on here?"

The crowd parted. Professor Nadine Mercer—Gemma's mother and the assistant dean—rushed onto the court. Her face was pale with fury as she knelt beside her daughter.

Gemma burst into fake tears. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "Mom! She attacked me! I was just trying to talk to her, and she snapped!"

"She pushed me first," I explained, keeping my voice rational and calm. "I moved out of the way. She tripped."

Professor Mercer’s eyes turned cold. She didn't care about the truth. "To behave in this violent manner so soon after you've arrived on my campus is unacceptable. I will be officially recommending your immediate expulsion to the dean."

She sharply ordered me to follow her to the administrative office. The surrounding crowd parted, whispering about how dangerous I was.

I grabbed my duffel bag from the bleachers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cleo stepping away from the mob. Her face was pale as she frantically punched a number into her cell phone.

I focused my hearing, catching her panicked whispers over the gym's echoing chatter.

"Uncle Kaelen? I need your help," Cleo pleaded into the receiver. "No, not for me. It's a new friend. They're trying to expel her without cause."

I froze mid-step.

Uncle Kaelen?

My blood ran cold. The invisible puzzle pieces slammed into place inside my mind, forming a terrifying picture. Kaelen Cross was Cleo's uncle.