CHAPTER 64: _ AWAKENING CEREMONY (AMIAS)

Chapter 64

~Amias’s Point Of View~

Amias has seen plenty of girls dressed for the Moon Blessing ceremony. He’s endured a parade of silks, satins, lace stitched to suffocate necklines, and colors so violently bright that his retinas practically begged for mercy. But when Heidi steps into the courtyard with Daphne, time doesn’t so much stop as it jerks. It jerks the way a horse pulls back when it realizes there’s a snake in the grass. It does it violently, abruptly, impossible to ignore.

She’s wearing emerald green, the shade of moss after a fresh rain, the kind of green that belongs to forests and secrets. And the sunlight... curse the damned sunlight—it slides over her shoulders like it knows it has a job to do. Nature itself seems in on some private joke: look, here’s the girl you’ve been pretending not to notice, wrapped in green and gold like the Moon Goddess handpicked her.

Amias grips the door of his car so hard the metal groans. His first coherent thought is: no man should be allowed to look at her like that. His second is far less dignified: mine.

Of course, the bond has been there all along, humming under his skin like a warning drum. He’s felt it since the first moment they stumble on her in the academy hallway with her head ducked, smelling faintly of jasmine and something he refuses to name because naming it would make it real. He thought he could smother it, bury it under arrogance, under disdain, under the fact that she’s an omega. But this—this vision in green... blows that illusion into dust.

He falls, not gently, not romantically, but like a boulder off a cliff: fast, unstoppable, bone-shattering.

And damn it, even Lira notices. Her eyes flick to Heidi, then to Amias, then back again, calculating. She doesn’t say a word, but her silence is loaded. If Heidi makes her feel threatened, then Amias knows it isn’t just him. How about how the world shifted when Heidi walked into the hallway? Only fools would pretend otherwise.

When Lucan... that asshole, too-pretty Lucan offers his hand to Heidi and escorts her over to his row, Amias nearly snaps the armrest clean off. Of course, it’s Lucan. Of course, the NAY boys would try to make a show of it.

His jaw locks, a muscle ticking there. The rivalry between the Bellamys and the NAY boys has been simmering for years in a stew of insults, stolen victories, and the kind of testosterone-fueled posturing that could power an entire city if harnessed properly. Tonight, Amias decides, is the night the stew boils over. He’s long overdue to plant Lucan’s smug face into the dirt.

And now Lucan dares to touch her.

Mine, Amias thinks again, with the stubborn ferocity of someone carving the word into stone. He makes a vow then and there. There will be a fight, and when it happens, the NAY boys will learn that they are not, and will never be, the true rulers of this academy. The Bellamys are. Always have been. Always will be.

But then Heidi glances toward him when she is about to head to the stage. It is just a flick of her eyes, but enough to send a ripple through him. She looks nervous, uncertain, like she’s searching for something—anything that might anchor her. And in that fleeting gaze, she places something in his hands he wasn’t prepared to hold: her trust.

It undoes him.

He doesn’t smile or move. He only nods, giving the smallest dip of his chin, the kind that says, Go on. You’ve got this.

Why? Because if he’s going to claim her—and oh, he will, then she has to be more than a pretty girl in a green dress. He will not drag his mother’s name through the mud by claiming an omega who stumbles her way into his life. His mother has already ruined her own life, and while Amias plans to make her stew in the consequences of her actions, he doesn’t intend to make things harder for her either. Claiming an Omega will only sully their reputation further.

Heidi has to work, to bleed, to prove herself worthy of standing beside him. After all, he also worked hard to retain his reputation. It’s one thing to be born an Alpha’s son, and another entirely to live up to that name.

It’s only fair of him to desire a worthy partner. It’s totally fine for him to set a standard for himself and also fine to reject anyone who doesn’t meet those standards. Heidi must fight for their union.

And gods help him, he wants her to. He wants to see her fight tooth and nail until she can look him in the eye without flinching. So when he nods, it isn’t just encouragement. It’s a promise.

Prove yourself, Heidi, and I’ll be there. I’ll make sure you’re ready. You won’t fight alone, not if you belong to me.

His plan crystallizes quickly, with all the precision of a general mapping out a battle. He’ll let her face the striker tonight. Then, no matter how she fares, he’ll find her afterward, drag her into the shadows if he must, and prepare her for the labyrinth. He’ll push her until her knees shake, until her wolf claws to the surface, until she’s ready to spit in the labyrinth’s face. If she fails, she fails. If she rises... then she’ll rise as his equal.

But then...

Then she fumbles.

He’s ready for many outcomes: average strength, surprising strength, or even humiliating weakness. What he isn’t ready for is the mess.

One second, Heidi grips the striker with white-knuckled determination. The next, her feet betray her. Her grip slips. Her balance wavers. Instead of a clean hit, the striker clatters like a drunk trying to find the bathroom in the dark. It barely grazes the mechanism. The machine creaks like it’s dying of laughter.

And oh, how everyone laughs.

The hall erupts, not with cheers but with jeers. Laughter crashes against the walls, sharp and merciless. Someone hoots. Someone else whistles. A chant nearly starts up in the back. Amias’s stomach drops, then spikes with heat. He can’t breathe for a second. He’s... speechless.

Her. His. The girl in green, the girl who just set his world ablaze, is standing on the stage looking like the lowest of the lows. An embarrassment.

It’s a gut punch.