The Predator and the Prey

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Elior moved like a ghost through the halls of the Academy, perfectly composed, face unreadable. But inside, his mind was a storm of calculations.

Someone was watching him.

Not just Damien.

Not just Kian.

Someone else—someone who moved in the dark, whose presence brushed against the edges of his senses like the memory of a nightmare.

He had been reborn to take back control. But now... the game board was more crowded than he’d anticipated.

---

Combat class wasn’t supposed to be interesting. Alphas flaunted their strength. Betas fought with technique. And Omegas—well, they were expected to sit out, or practice ‘defensive stances’.

Elior did none of that.

“Partner up!” barked the instructor.

Elior’s name was barely out of her mouth before Kian strode toward him, smug grin firmly in place. “Thought we’d try again.”

But before he could reach Elior, a voice interrupted, low and cold.

“He’s with me.”

The room turned to ice.

Damien stood at the edge of the training mats, arms folded, eyes fixed on Elior as if daring him to object.

Kian’s jaw tightened. “Instructor, I thought random pairing was—”

“Pairing stands,” the instructor said firmly, clearly not willing to challenge Damien. “Drex, find someone else.”

Kian stormed off.

Elior gave Damien a flat stare. “You don’t take orders well.”

“I don’t take chances either,” Damien replied.

Elior said nothing. He simply stepped onto the mat and dropped into position.

---

The sparring match was silent—eerily so.

No taunts. No mocking. Just movement. Fast. Sharp. Deadly.

Elior was precise. His strikes weren’t meant to overpower, but to exploit weaknesses—pressure points, blind spots. He danced around Damien like a blade wrapped in silk.

Damien countered with fluid control, matching Elior’s speed and anticipating his next move.

To the observers, it looked like a fight between predator and prey.

But it wasn’t clear who was which.

Until Elior feinted left, spun, and landed a kick that would have floored anyone else.

Damien caught his ankle mid-air and yanked him forward.

Elior’s body slammed into Damien’s chest.

The room collectively held its breath.

Their faces were inches apart.

Elior’s heartbeat roared in his ears. He should push him back. He should.

Damien’s voice was barely a whisper. “Still think you don’t need protection?”

Elior smirked, eyes glittering. “Still think you can chain me?”

In a flash, he twisted out of Damien’s grasp and landed lightly on his feet, the match ending in a standstill.

The instructor looked stunned. So did the class.

But Elior walked away like nothing had happened.

---

That evening, Elior sat in the private Caelum study, flipping through the Drex family files.

His fingers froze on a photograph—one he hadn’t noticed before.

A masked man, shrouded in black, standing beside Kian’s father. No name. No identification.

But Elior recognized the symbol on the man’s glove. A raven with blood-red eyes.

The Mark of the Void.

The underground organization responsible for multiple high-ranking Omega kidnappings. Ruthless. Untouchable. Supposedly disbanded years ago.

He remembered their symbol. From his deathbed.

His fingers clenched around the photo.

They were still active. They were working with the Drex family. And they might be after him again.

Elior stood abruptly, heart cold.

This time, they wouldn’t get the chance.

---

Later, he slipped out of the estate alone—despite Damien’s warning.

He knew someone would follow him. He needed them to.

He walked through the fog-heavy alleys near the southern border of the city, steps slow, deliberate.

And just as expected… footsteps behind him. Too light for an Alpha. Too quick for a Beta.

He turned into a blind alley and stopped.

The footsteps paused.

Then a whisper of wind—movement.

A figure lunged from the shadows.

Elior moved first.

The attacker slammed into the wall a second later, blade clattering from their hand.

Elior’s boot pressed against their neck. “Wrong Omega, sweetheart.”

But before he could question them—

A second assailant emerged. Silent. Fast.

This one was different.

Faster.

Deadlier.

They moved to strike, but were stopped mid-air—by a hand gripping their wrist in an iron hold.

Damien.

He emerged from the shadows like a storm. Eyes cold. Hands merciless.

In seconds, the second attacker was on his knees, blood dripping from a cut on his lip.

Elior didn’t speak.

Damien did.

“Who sent you?” he asked, voice low.

The attacker smiled—a broken, bloody thing. “Too late. You’ll never protect him forever.”

Damien’s hand twitched, but Elior stepped in.

“We don’t need him to talk,” he said quietly. “We already have what we need.”

He held up the blade the first attacker dropped.

The handle bore the same raven symbol.

A chill crept over them both.

Damien met Elior’s gaze. “You knew.”

Elior nodded. “I remembered.”

---

That night, back at the estate, Elior stood alone on the balcony, staring at the moon.

He didn’t hear Damien enter, but he felt him.

“Next time,” Damien said quietly, “tell me.”

“Next time,” Elior replied, “don’t follow me.”

Damien walked closer. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Elior’s eyes closed. Just for a second.

“You already did,” he whispered.

But he didn’t stop Damien from stepping beside him.

They stood together in silence.

Not lovers.

Not allies.

Not yet.

But bound.

By blood.

By fate.

And by the storm that was coming.

---

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