The final whistle sounds like a death knell.
Grayson's wolves crush the Fangs by twelve points—two touchdowns in the final ten minutes while Rhys's defense collapsed around him.
I stood on the sidelines with my clipboard, pretending to be useful, watching the gold and black section erupt while the vampire prince stood alone at the fifty-yard line.
His teammates walked past him without looking and their faculty’s coach didn't bother with a consolation speech. He just stood there, shoulders rigid, staring at the scoreboard like he could change the numbers through sheer force of will.
Then the headmaster's voice boomed across the stadium.
"Grayson Imler will captain the combined team for the regional championship. Congratulations!"
Thunderous applause and I see my father beaming like someone handed him the sun. The golden wolf accepts his crown with humble gratitude that fools everyone except me.
I know that smile, know the satisfaction underneath it.
"The full combined team roster is as follows..." I tune out the names until the last one lands like a grenade. "Rhys Vance."
The crowd goes quiet for one breathless beat, then whispers erupt like wildfire.
The vampire prince made the cut—barely, probably—which means he'll be playing under Grayson's command, taking orders from his greatest rival, serving the wolf who just destroyed him publicly.
Grayson walks directly to Rhys and claps him on the shoulder like they're old friends.
"Glad the best vampire made the team." His voice carries across the stadium, pitched for maximum impact. "I look forward to teaching you what real leadership looks like."
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and Rhys doesn't move, doesn't flinch, but I see his hands curl into fists at his sides. I know that feeling—I've been living it since I arrived at this school.
The crowd disperses and I slip away before anyone notices the head coach's daughter isn't celebrating. My escorts are distracted by the victory chaos, probably assuming I'll stay glued to my father's side like a good little halfblood.
They assume wrong.
I find Rhys in an empty corridor near the training facility. He stands with his back to me, shoulders rigid, one hand braced against the wall like he needs it to stay upright.
The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his silver and crimson jersey—the losing team's colors, now just a reminder of everything that went wrong.
"Come to watch the fallen prince lick his wounds?" His voice is flat, directed at the wall instead of me.
"No." My footsteps echo in the silence as I move closer. "I came to talk."
"About what?" He still doesn't turn around. "My spectacular failure? My new position as your brother's trained dog? Or maybe you want to gloat—the halfblood finally gets to see the vampire prince brought low."
"About the elevator."
That makes him turn. His gray eyes are cold, but something cracks beneath the surface—something raw that he's trying desperately to hide. His hands are still curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white.
"What about it?"
"You helped me." I hold his gaze. "When I was breaking apart, when no one else would have cared, you talked me through it. You knew exactly what I needed."
"So?"
"So I watched you out there tonight." I take another step closer. "I watched your defense collapse and your teammates avoid your eyes and my brother humiliate you in front of the entire school."
His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "Your point?"
"I recognized that look on your face—the one where you're holding yourself together because breaking isn't an option."
I stop a few feet away from him.
"You were there for me when I was falling apart. Maybe I wanted to return the favor."
He laughs—a harsh, bitter sound that bounces off the concrete walls. "You want to help me? The halfblood mutt wants to rescue the vampire prince?"
"The halfblood mutt knows what it's like to be alone in a room full of people who hate you."
I don't flinch at the venom in his voice.
"My brother controls every part of my life. His pack follows me everywhere—you've seen them, my personal guard dogs. I have no one in this school. No allies. No friends. Just a family name that means I'm either a stain to be hidden or a tool to be used."
Something shifts in his expression. The mockery fades, replaced by something that looks almost like recognition.
"Sounds tragic." But his voice has lost its edge. "What does any of this have to do with me?"
"We're the same, Rhys." I let the words land. "Both of us pretending to be something we're not. Both of us are hiding what we really are because the alternative is destruction."
His jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek jumps once, twice.
"I want protection." The word hangs between us like a challenge. "From the bullying. From Grayson's control. From all of it."
"Protection." He steps closer, and I catch his scent—cold and expensive, mixed with grass and sweat and something darker underneath. "And what exactly are you offering in return?"
"I know what you are, Rhys."
He goes still. Completely, unnaturally still.
"I've figured it out on my own," I continue, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse is hammering against my ribs. "The amber in your eyes. The way you knew about hybrid transformations. The way you guided me through that shift like you'd done it a thousand times before."
"You don't know anything."
"I know enough."
I hold his gaze, praying he can't hear how hard my heart is pounding. The truth is I don't know—not for certain. I have theories, suspicions, pieces that don't quite fit together. But he doesn't know that.
"And I'm offering to keep whatever it is buried forever. No one will ever know. Not from me."
Something shifts in his expression—a crack in the ice, a flicker of something that looks almost like hope. He opens his mouth to respond when footsteps echo down the corridor.
Rhys steps back like I've burned him, and the mask slides into place so fast it's almost impressive—cold indifference, aristocratic boredom, the perfect vampire prince who would never be caught in an empty hallway with a halfblood.
A group of players rounds the corner, laughing about something from the game. By the time they notice us, Rhys is already looking through me like I'm made of glass.
"Congratulations on your brother's victory," he says, loud enough for them to hear. His voice is pure ice, every trace of vulnerability gone. "I'm sure the Imler family is very proud."
He walks past me without another glance, shoulder brushing mine just hard enough to feel deliberate.
I watch him disappear around the corner, silver and crimson jersey swallowed by shadows.
The players pass by with curious looks—the coach's daughter alone in a hallway with the vampire captain, that's going to start rumors—but I keep my face blank until they're gone.
My escorts appear at the end of the corridor, suspicious expressions already forming. "Where did you go?"
"Bathroom." I start walking toward them, keeping my voice steady. "The line was long."
They don't believe me, I can see it in the way they exchange glances, the way the taller one's nostrils flare like he's trying to catch a scent.
But they don't push—they're here to watch me, not interrogate me—and they fall into step behind me as I head toward the exit.
Rhys didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either.
He didn't laugh in my face or threaten to destroy me for knowing his secret.
For one unguarded moment before those footsteps interrupted us, I saw something behind his mask—something that looked almost like relief. Like he'd been waiting for someone to see him.
I'll find him again. And next time, I won't let him walk away without an answer.