The moment the words left my mouth, reality crashed into me as I finally registered what I had just said. I should have stumbled from the weight of all the stares in my direction, but somehow my knees did not buckle.
But it was Konstantin’s face that made my heart crash against my ribs. It went through an entire terrifying cycle of emotion: first shock, which slowly morphed into embarrassment that turned his ears a shade of crimson, then shifted into rage. His features hardened under the morning sun.
I bit my treacherous tongue, but who was I kidding? Even if I could turn back time, I would have said the exact same thing.
The thought quickly evaporated when Konstantin began to march toward me, his footsteps echoing like a warning across the cracked pavement.
My legs turned to jelly, my stomach churned. I wavered, taking a step back. My legs shook, every damned voice in my head screaming at me to flee while I still could.
In that moment, everything and everyone else dissolved into the background until only me and this hulking man made entirely of muscle remained. No shield. No place to run or hide. His glare withered every atom of bravery I should have been able to muster.
A cold finger wrapped around my wrist. My heart sputtered.
"Stand down, Konstantin." The voice came from a distant place, breaking through the fog of my fear.
Konstantin wavered, wrath wrapped in skin halting his steps, but his face remained contorted, every line and plane hard and unforgiving as he continued to glower.
"I will bite out your heart, you fucking—" His words came out like the slash of a blade, the snap of a whip on skin.
I flinched hard. Vladimir’s grip around my wrist tightened.
"Orlov." Vladimir’s tone was level as always, but it was enough for the words to die in Konstantin’s throat.
He gulped hard, as if trying to swallow his own burning indignation. When he spoke again, the anger had been reined in, though it still lurked beneath the surface. "Is she not a hybrid, High Alpha? She is of lower rank. How dare she even speak of my manhood?"
The bile that had never really gone away rose again. He knew exactly who I was.
"I am aware," Vladimir replied. "The insult will be addressed within the parameters of the trials."
My head whipped toward Vladimir. He deserved no such thing. He had been a dick to Dmitri; I had just given him a taste of his own medicine.
The anger on Konstantin’s face waned, his bunched shoulders relaxing. "What might that be, High Alpha?" The smug expression returned.
"You will advance to the last test," Vladimir announced.
Even his eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe his luck. "The character test?"
Vladimir nodded, and finally he met my gaze.
"Which will start now."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
I didn’t even know what that meant. My mind scrambled, trying to remember if Vladimir had mentioned it during one of his cold, clinical explanations of the trials. Combat. Strategy. And... what? Character?
What the hell was a character test?
How would he test that right now?
"Arlo," Vladimir called, his hand still wrapped around my wrist like a shackle. "Bring the equipment. For Lilith’s training."
Equipment. My training.
For a character test? How were they related?
The burly guard—Arlo—nodded once and disappeared into the ruins. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving only the thundering of my own pulse in my ears.
Konstantin hadn’t moved. He stood there, chest heaving, that murderous look still carved into his features. But now there was something else bleeding through the rage.
Anticipation. He had been given another chance to be the winner and become Beta.
My stomach dropped at the thought of Muscle McTantrum as Vladimir’s right hand. Veronique would be a mercy in comparison.
He looked at me like a predator that had just been told dinner was served.
"High Alpha," Sylvanna spoke up from her seat, voice carefully neutral. "I thought the character test would commence now, but you are talking about equipment for the hybrid’s training." Her eyes lingered mainly on Vladimir’s hand where he held mine. "I am confused, High Alpha."
"Your character test will involve you assisting in the training." His arm rested behind his back, his eyes sweeping over each of them.
Konstantin’s laugh was a bellow that shook the ground. "Anything you want, High Alpha. I will do my best to prove myself."
I tried not to tremble, tried not to look at Vladimir like he had lost his mind. He was High Alpha; he knew what he was doing.
"I look forward to it," Vladimir replied, revealing little of what was going on in his head. His thumb brushed once against my pulse point—whether to calm me or to feel how fast my heart was racing, I couldn’t tell. "Konstantin Orlov, Sylvanna Korvin, and Dmitri Kozlov will serve as throwers."
The word didn’t compute. Throwers of what?
Vladimir’s grip loosened, then released entirely. I swayed slightly, suddenly unmoored.
"And the target?" Sylvanna asked, though the way her eyes flicked to me suggested she already knew the answer.
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My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Just a strangled exhale that might have been the beginning of a protest or a scream or both.
Through the bond, I felt Vladimir’s presence: steady, immovable, and utterly indifferent to the panic clawing up my throat.
Konstantin’s face transformed.
The rage melted away like snow under a blowtorch, replaced by something so much worse.
Pure, vicious, triumphant satisfaction.
His lips curved into a smile—slow, predatory, and so goddamn smug I wanted to throw up right there on the ancient stone.
"A character test," he repeated, as if tasting the words. Savoring them. "How fitting."
Arlo returned, and my gaze snapped to what he carried.
A large canvas sack slung over one shoulder. A wooden crate in his arms. And coiled rope.
"The rules are simple," Vladimir announced, his voice carrying across the ruins like he was discussing the weather and not my imminent torture. "Lilith will be bound in the center of the arena. The three candidates will throw from marked positions."