3. Not Funny, Moses

3

Not Funny, Moses

Isobel wanted to kick something.

Callum Rowe had made her—had made all of them —feel two inches tall. She was accustomed to feeling unimportant, to being condescended to, to being put in her place, but this was on another level: this feeling of being a product on a shelf, wrapped in plastic, stapled with tags, and confined to the fine print on her packaging. The only thing that mattered was whether they would make money. That was it . It was more important than their hidden bond, than the fact they had lied, than the reputation of the academy.

The only thing that mattered … was money.

As soon as they got back to the dorm, she dove into the shower, stripping off her clothes and sinking onto the bench, her legs pulled up to her chest. The water wasn’t even touching her, but the steam and the sound were soothing, and she desperately needed a moment away from the cameras. Her face felt tight from controlling her expression, and a headache threatened to bloom behind her eyes.

She sighed, dropping her forehead to her knees, breathing in the scent of the dried flowers perfuming the bathroom. She was going to indulge in ten minutes of feeling sorry for herself, and then she would pull up her socks and woman up, like the guys seemed to have done.

It would be great if the world was different, but it wasn’t, and it wouldn’t change in a day. In their world, influence meant power, and power meant freedom. They were balancing blindfolded on a tightwire of popularity, the floor dropping further away with every tentative step, widening their stakes. Now wasn’t the time to declare war against the system, even if that was something they could safely do. They were only one misstep away from a fall they wouldn’t survive.

Cian stared at his phone, frowning slightly as he leaned against the wrought iron balcony railing.

Isobel: We don’t need to go everywhere as a group anymore, right?

Isobel: Coming after us would be a huge waste of time, resources, and planning now that we’ve signed the contracts.

Isobel: Right?

It was probably the most she had ever said all at once without anyone replying. He frowned harder, picking at the side of the phone with his nail. He didn’t need to text her to know how she was feeling. It had taken her two hours squirrelled away in the shower to get her emotions back under control, though she still wasn’t closed off from the bond despite what he assumed to be her best efforts.

He also knew she was about to flee the building before she sent the messages—that’s why he was on the balcony, staring out toward the front of Dorm A. His gift wasn’t always straightforward, but every now and then, he would just know when things were about to happen—usually useless things.

“Come on, Kalen,” he grumbled, glaring at the screen. His grip relaxed slightly when Kalen began typing.

Kalen: The officials aren’t the only ones you need protection from.

“She knows that,” Cian sighed out.

Niko: She knows that.

“This guy is honestly begging someone to punch him.” Cian poked at his lip piercing with his tongue, a restless, fidgety energy prickling through him.

He trusted his friends. The Alphas were his second family—closer than his real family, in some ways, but they were volatile. Volatile, possessive, and jealous.

It was hard enough to come to terms with the fact that their mate wasn’t theirs , alone, without taking into account all the people who wanted to hurt her.

Who had hurt her.

Isobel: Eve is dead. Crowe is dead.

Moses: Oscar is still alive.

Kalen: Not funny, Moses.

Oscar: Agree to disagree.

Kilian: That it was funny, or that you’re alive?

Oscar: Am I alive or is this hell?

Oscar: Daily conundrum.

Theodore: Why are you so emo?

Isobel: Back to the point?

“She needs space,” Cian muttered, agitatedly tapping his free hand against the railing.

Mikel: I highly doubt the officials will organise another attack on you, not when they want you focussed and producing music that will make them money.

Elijah: I think the students are more likely to sabotage you in other ways, now. Targeted, underhanded attacks on your reputation and image are now far more vital than bullying, threats, and intimidation.

Still, they didn’t give her permission.

This decision was up to Kalen.

Cian shifted from foot to foot until Kalen began typing again.

Kalen: The buddy system and the surveillance shifts through the night are no longer necessary. The danger has passed, for now. Still, I want everyone to continue sharing their locations with the group at all times.

A flood of relief poured out of him, and he bent at the waist, resting his forehead against the cool iron railing. “Thank fuck for that,” he groaned out, realising his agitation hadn’t entirely been on behalf of Isobel.

He was going stir-crazy. Privacy was already a luxury at Ironside, but never getting a full night’s sleep and always having to be attached to half or all of the group during every waking hour was slowly driving him insane, as much as he loved them.

“I’m trying not to be insulted,” a droll voice commented from the neighbouring balcony.

He picked up his head, glancing over at Gabriel. “No, you’re not—you’re impossible to insult,” he said, rolling his eyes. Gabriel was hard to ruffle, except for the million tiny things that ruffled him. Hurting his feelings was nearly impossible, but lord help whoever put a fork into the cutlery drawer facing the wrong way.

“Fine,” Gabriel agreed, leaning over the railing and staring out across the seemingly endless miles of manicured gardens from their elevated vantage point atop Alpha Hill. “Do you feel the rattle?”

“The what now?” Cian blinked, momentarily thrown.

“The rattle,” Gabriel repeated, still staring off into the distance. “Like when you’re driving one of those golf carts and there’s something rattling around in the back but no matter how hard you look, you can’t find it. Something in the bond is unhinged. I can feel it.”

“Oh. That.”

The rattle.

That was a good way to put it. The more Cian tried to ignore it, the louder it persisted.

“Well?” Gabriel prompted.

“Yeah.” Cian dragged his hands down over his face, checking to make sure the door to Gabriel’s room was closed. “It happened when Niko repaired the bond.” He spoke lowly—there were no cameras out on the balcony because the space was too small to get a good angle, but he didn’t want to risk speaking at a normal volume.

“Is it better if you glue it back together?” Gabriel asked just as quietly. “Does it matter if the cracks are still there? Isobel hasn’t noticed.”

“I was wondering that,” Cian admitted. “I didn’t want her to feel it.”

“None of us wanted her to feel it,” Gabriel said. “And so she hasn’t felt it.”

“Is it really that easy?” Cian frowned.

“No idea.”

“You know everything,” he shot back.

“I know my limits,” Gabriel smirked, pushing away from the balcony and spinning to the doors. He paused before walking back inside, turning to face Cian. “Be on the lookout. This restless feeling … this rattle … it reeks of side effects.”

“Oh joy,” Cian drawled.

Gabriel smiled, but there was no humour in the slight twist of his lips. “I’ll warn the others. We’ll come up with a plan.”

Cian nodded, pulling up his phone again. There was a new message waiting for him.

Isobel: What are you doing later?

His nights were free again.

Her nights were free again.

His cock filled with blood so suddenly it was almost painful, and he stormed inside, pushing into his dressing room, eyes wide, heart pounding.

Holy shit calm down, she didn’t mean it like that .

Cian: Bringing my camera to the studio?

Isobel: I love it when you read my mind.

He didn’t text back. He didn’t trust his fingers. He should have been exhausted enough to sleep for a week, but instead, he had to stand there and think about Gabriel rearranging his clothes by colour and style until his swelling erection died a slow death by organised boredom.

Oscar pulled his gloves off, tossing them to the ground as he stalked away from the boxing bag. He had suspected that the bond might have been blanketing the volatile, violent urges he was used to, but now he was sure of it because as soon as Niko returned the bond pieces to Isobel, Oscar felt that blanket lift.

He was no longer leashed and repressed. The bond had settled into something imperfect, contained by glue and pure, stubborn will. It had settled into something unnatural. It could no longer keep him contained, which meant it wouldn’t keep the others contained either. They had suspected that the bond had been playing a part in preventing Moses and Theodore from going feral all the time, but now they were at risk again. Which was just fucking great . Exactly what they needed.

He fell to one of the weight benches, dragging a towel across his face as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

Oscar: You know what you’ve done, don’t you?

The reply came immediately.

Kalen: Elijah warned me you might text.

“Fucking Elijah,” Oscar muttered, his thumbs flying across the screen.

Oscar: You’ve just cleared up all our nights.

Kalen: I know.

Oscar: They’re going to start fucking her again.

Kalen: I know.

Oscar: Her room is next to mine.

Kalen: I know.

Oscar: You know how long it’ll take me to murder one of them?

Kalen: You won’t touch any of them.

Kalen: Including Isobel.

His head fell back, a laugh bursting from his throat—rough and unhinged.

Oscar: So much for the lecture on how it’s her body and her choice.

Kalen: As long as it doesn’t put her in danger.

Oscar: It’s her body to damage.

Kalen: If it’s her body to damage, then it’s her body to give to someone else.

Oscar: Not if I kill them first.

Kalen: You’re not even going to wait for them to fuck? Who are you going to kill first?

Oscar: Probably Theodore, that smug fuck.

Kalen: He’s our lead singer, you idiot.

Oscar: Then Kilian, that fake gay smug fuck.

Kalen: What happens if you surge when you’re with her? What if you hurt her?

Oscar: What does that have to do with me killing my friends?

Kalen: Just think about it.

Oscar: IT’S ALL I THINK ABOUT.

Kalen: I’m sure she’s flattered that you admire her heart and personality so much.

Oscar: You know what I mean. Stop antagonising me.

Kalen: I could order you not to touch her.

Oscar: Then I’ll kill you first.

Oscar shoved his phone back into his pocket, done with the conversation. His hands shook, his vision blurry with a rage that he worked to quieten. After pacing for a few moments, he snatched his phone back out and dialled his little sister, but after only one ring, he quickly hung up. It was early morning, and she needed her sleep. He texted the old woman who was living in the hut next door, checking in. He split all his earnings between Lily, the neighbour who checked on her, the woman from the schoolhouse who spent some afternoons with her, and the settlement medical centre, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Would it be enough if he could only take home less than 1 per cent of their earnings?

They might have secured their safety, but they sure as fuck hadn’t solved any of their problems.

Cian opened the door to the dance studio as quietly as he could, slipping into the room. He shouldn’t have bothered. Isobel wouldn’t have noticed if he had run inside, screaming, on fire. She was lost in her dance, the music loud enough to shake the floor.

He placed his camera on the bench where she had left her shirt and bag and leaned over to check the song playing on her phone. “Burn,” by Tom Walker. It was on repeat, and she seemed to be nailing down the choreography. Trust the Sigma to deal with the upheaval of their plans and their future with a frantic, angry, rebellious dance.

He loved that about her.

Liked.

He liked that about her.

What the fuck?

Jesus fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He pulled the camera into his lap, and Isobel seemed to notice him. She stopped dancing, her chest heaving, her skin shimmering with a dusting of sweat. She was wearing tights, sneakers, and a crop top. She kicked her sneakers to the side of the room and ran her hands through her hair, taming the riotous waves away from her face.

“Ready?” she panted, calling across the long practice room as she jogged toward him. She tapped her watch to stop the song.

“Ready if you are,” he confirmed.

“Thanks for helping out.” She flashed him a haunting smile, her pretty lips pushing at her cheeks—she always smiled like that, like her mouth was too narrow for it, creating multiple little dimples in her skin. With lips like hers, it was a smile that drew the eye. It wasn’t cute like she could sometimes be, or cold like she could sometimes be. It was plush and soft and inviting—like she almost never was.

Isobel was only soft and inviting when his dick was inside her, distracting her from the guard she always had up and the fear she always swam in. Or when she was in those rare moments halfway between sleep and sanity. It should track that alcohol would soften that cool mask of hers, but alcohol only managed to make her sassy.

“You’re welcome,” he finally said after fiddling with his camera, pretending he hadn’t just glitched out thinking about her smile.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was making himself sick. He wasn’t the type to know all the ways to tease out every facet of a woman’s personality. He loved women, but this wasn’t a casual appreciation for her gender. This was an obsession.

“Are we doing this video for anything in particular?” he asked, trying to get his head in the game. Stress was making him scattered.

“I need to work harder,” she muttered, stretching her overworked muscles. “It’s not enough for me to keep up with you guys. I just … need to work harder.”

“You’re not keeping up, doll.” Cian raised his brows at her. “You’re a better dancer than any of us. You have more natural talent and you’re more experienced. That’s not keeping up. That’s leaving us behind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I want to be further ahead.”

“Savage little thing, aren’t you? I thought we were in a group now. Where’s the team mindset?”

A small chuckle tumbled from her lips, and some of the darkness lifted from his chest.

“I already emailed Cooper and asked if I could release this as a personal project, so I don’t have to wait a week.” She padded back to the centre of the room, glancing at her watch. “I’ll upload it tonight.”

What’s the rush? he asked through the bond.

People might think we’re taking the easy way out. I’m going to flood them with content, so they don’t have time to even consider it.

“Sounds like a plan.” He palmed his camera and waited for her to get into position. She tapped her watch to start the song, and they ran through the choreography a few times to fix up the invisible mistakes she claimed she was making.

He tried to move with her, drawing close for the slower moments of her dance and smoothly retreating as she began to speed up, widening her movements, beginning to leap and extend. It was exactly her style—lyrical, expressive, and highly technical. She didn’t dance to music; she showed the music. She dove into the emotion of a song and somehow expressed it vividly, cleanly, painfully.

It was hard not to believe in fate when he watched her like this. Nobody else at the academy had worked as hard as her to get as far as she had come.

Nobody except him and the other Alphas.

It was clear now that he knew her better and had seen how her father had treated her—her whole life was training . Nothing had existed for her except constant and relentless betterment. It was how Kalen and Mikel had trained them, after recruiting each of them. None of them really had a choice, but for different reasons.

“One more time,” she panted, watching back the video he had just taken. She was shaking her head. “I messed up my extension.”

He thought it was perfect, but she was the lead dancer, not him. So he nodded, and they did it again.

And again.

And again.

Isobel was astounded at how the officials had successfully managed to frame the narrative of their group forming as something they had allowed her and the Alphas to announce. Like it was Ironside’s plan, not theirs—and it was hardly a privilege. The new rules effectively scared off most people from trying to register as a group.

Most people, but not all people.

On Wednesday, the humans shocked the entire academy by registering as a group. Each of them had a good shot at winning the game and were willing to throw that away to share the spotlight… but perhaps the contracts they had been offered were different, since they weren’t Gifted. They had no training in singing or dancing, but they had Kalen and Mikel, who weren’t allowed to play favourites, so Isobel was worried that the professors might just be able to make something spectacular out of them. The human group was announced on social media first thing in the morning, and when Isobel walked into Icon Matters, everyone was on their phones, whispering excitedly.

She sank down into a seat, dropping her bag by her legs. She tried to wipe away the worry from her features as the Kozlov twins walked into the room, grinning at everyone and taking their seats at the front of the auditorium. Alissa James and Irene Ellis—Gabriel and Elijah’s fake girlfriends—slipped into the seats on either side of the two muscled blond men, cosying up to them with coy smiles, light touches, and feminine laughter. Isobel blinked in shock, and then pulled her phone out and snapped a quick picture, sending it to the group chat.

Isobel: Um, so …

Elijah: Oops.

Gabriel: What am I looking at?

Theodore: Your fake girlfriend.

Gabriel: Which one is mine again?

Moses: The one who had Slavic sausage for breakfast.

Isobel: Gross.

Cian: The one on the left?

Isobel: Actually, it’s the one on the right.

Moses: No wonder they dumped you guys.

Isobel: Did they dump you guys?

Gabriel: No idea. I blocked her number.

Isobel: When?

Gabriel: The day we started fake dating. She texted me good morning. I needed space.

Kilian: Are you going to storm in there and demand to know how long she’s been Behind Enemy Lines?

Elijah: You’re thinking of Bosnia. The Kozlov twins are from Russia.

Kilian: Oh, so you do remember things.

Elijah: War movies? Yes. Girlfriends? No.

Isobel: Will you remember me?

Theodore: I’ve never actually seen Eli panic before. Where you at, E? Send us a picture.

Elijah: If you want to be my girlfriend, there are better ways of asking.

Theodore: Who, me?

Elijah: I violently resent the pep in your step this morning.

Theodore: Keep that up and I won’t want to be your girlfriend much longer.

Isobel glanced over her phone to the centre row of the auditorium, where Jordan Kostas and Naina Kahn had joined the other humans. Kostas did actually have some experience singing and dancing, now that Isobel thought about it. Not much, but she often put out short videos on social media, singing or participating in dance trends. Plus, she was a model. As far as lumps of clay came, she would be an easy one for Kalen and Mikel to mould. Kahn, on the other hand … made chocolate sculptures. That had nothing to do with being in a performance group.

Isobel surveyed the rest of the auditorium, wondering where the Alphas were, before switching her attention back to her phone.

Isobel: You guys are going to be late to class.

Niko: I’m not coming. Training with Kalen.

She nibbled on her lip, concern spiking inside her chest. Kalen and Mikel had both been spending more private time with Niko lately. Not just him, but also Moses, Theodore, and Oscar. Something had shifted in the dynamics of the group ever since their bond was repaired, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was. The bond itself felt fine, but there was an invisible fissure of tension in the air whenever there was more than one Alpha in the room. Unless it was Gabriel and Elijah together—they seemed fine. Even Theodore and Kilian together seemed a little tense around her. She wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure what to ask. She couldn’t even adequately describe the feeling.

With a sigh, she flicked through everyone’s answers to her question.

Elijah: We’re busy this period.

Gabriel: He means he and I are busy.

Elijah: Who else would I mean?

Moses: It’s hard to see anyone else when you’re in love.

Elijah: Shut up.

Theodore: On my way. Had to stick around while they were taking the cameras out of my room. I didn’t want them snooping.

Oscar: Afraid they’ll find your dirty magazines?

Moses: Sigma Penthouse.

Kilian: Sigma Hustler.

Cian: Sigma Playboy.

Cian: Also, I’m on my way.

Theodore: My tastes go beyond Sigmas.

Isobel: Do they?

Elijah: I’ve never seen Theo panic before. Send me a pic, T.

Theodore: Shut up.

Theodore: And yes.

Isobel: What are these tastes?

Kilian: Are you jealous, baby?

Elijah: No, she’s fucking with him.

Isobel grinned, tapping away at her phone faster.

Isobel: I’m hurt.

Isobel: The bond stone is probably pure blood red right now.

Kalen (admin): Can confirm. It is.

Theodore: I know you’re fucking with me but the adrenaline I have right now.

Theodore: Stop it.

Isobel: Make me.

Oscar: Stop flirting in the group chat.

Isobel: That was fighting.

Oscar: As I said.

She rolled her eyes, tucking her phone away and returning her attention to the middle of the auditorium again. Mei Ito and Luca Santoro had joined the rest of the humans. Santoro was another social media performer, she realised. While dancing for a trend wasn’t the same as dancing for a career, it did give them some basics, and Mei and Santoro were powerhouses of popularity. They were both already wealthy and could probably bring in outside help to level up their performance skills. If Isobel and the Alphas wanted to stay out of danger and prove to the officials that they were a good investment, they would have to do more than their new contracts stipulated. Their impossible new standard was truly just the bare minimum—it put them on an even playing field with the humans, who already had the support of the outside world, the funds, and the previously established fan bases.

Isobel and the Alphas would have to work twice as hard and be twice as good.

A body dropped into the seat beside her, and she turned to slowly eye her own fake boyfriend. He grinned at her, flicking his head to get a dark curl out of his eyes.

“Hey, babe.” His arm fell over the back of her chair. “Was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

She blurted the words without thinking. “Let’s break up.”

He reared back, staring at her in shock. “Can you do that?” he asked, also without thinking.

She was only just realising why Elijah and Gabriel had shown no reaction to James and Ellis suddenly attaching themselves to other guys. They weren’t allowed to date anymore.

“I—I mean, what?” Silva started backtracking, realising what he had said. “Why?”

“I signed a contract,” she told him. “It’s part of the new group rules. We aren’t allowed to date anyone.”

He looked pissed. His face was turning red, his eyes flashing with a hint of something that had her stomach turning. He had only ever been jovial and good-natured with her, but he was still the person who had delivered her a package full of razor blades and attempted some sort of Gifted voodoo magic to bond her.

“Is this a joke?” he asked, leaning closer to her. “Let’s go talk in private.” He stood and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her out of the chair.

She quickly planted her feet against the back of the chair in front of her, locking up her body. “Let’s not?” She laughed awkwardly, trying to keep it casual.

He tugged harder. “Seriously, Sigma?—”

Silva was suddenly jerked to the side and tossed into the chair beside her. Moses sat on his other side, holding him to the chair by the neck. Theodore was pulling his arm, trying to pull him out of the chair while Moses held him down.

“ Seriously , Beta,” Theodore mocked. “Let’s just go talk. Somewhere. Private.” Each word was accompanied by a yank of Silva’s arm until the Beta screamed.

It all happened so quickly that Isobel barely had time to react, and what frightened her the most was that she felt nothing from Theodore and Moses. She couldn’t even sense a drop of the absolute rage that vibrated through their bodies or flashed in their eyes.

She was too shocked to move, or to react, as Moses leaned in close to Silva—as close as Silva had leaned into her. “Why aren’t you moving, Beta?” he whispered dangerously. “Just get up.”

Theodore pulled harder, and there was an audible crack , accompanied by another scream from Silva, who was now trembling in his seat, tears in his eyes.

“S-shit.” Her brain finally overrode her shock, and she jumped out of her seat, shoving at Theodore. “Let’s go.”

He dropped Silva’s arm, and she pushed him harder, forcing him back a few steps toward Moses.

“You too,” she ordered, glaring at Moses, who scowled and released Silva.

She managed to drag them both out of the auditorium, which had fallen into shocked silence, most of the students too stunned to even pull out their phones.

“What were you thinking ?” she managed, glaring at both of them. A year ago, she would have been cowering, cracking open her walls to take all their anguish. But she wasn’t that person anymore, and they didn’t scare her anymore. Well, maybe a little, but not in the same way. She was scared for them now.

Theodore and Moses looked at each other, both still sullen and furious but a little sheepish now that Silva was out of their sight. She could also feel them, little sparks of trepidation pattering against her chest.

“He had his hands on y?—”

She interrupted Theodore. “Are you okay?”

He winced in answer.

“What’s going on here?” Professor Dubois, their teacher for Icon Matters, asked, causing her to spin around and take a swift step away from Theodore and Moses, as though they had been doing something illegal.

It was hard not to be on edge when Processor Dubois was human, one of the few officials who taught at the academy.

“Nothing,” Isobel quickly said, but unfortunately, Moses had spoken at the same time.

“Just teaching Mateus Silva that it’s not okay to grab people just because he’s stronger than them.”

“If you’re going to attend my class, you’ll do it without violence,” Professor Dubois lectured snippily, yanking open the auditorium door and disappearing inside a little too fast for the steady threat he had summoned to his voice.

Isobel puffed out a sigh, glancing between Theodore and Moses. “What’s going on with you two?”

“We stick together, Illy-stone.” Theodore gave her a devastating smile, packing away all his rage in the blink of an eye. “You come for one of us; you come for all of us.”

“He wasn’t coming for me,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. She felt guilty admitting it, but it was nice to know that someone had put his hands on her and was immediately punished. It felt better than nice. She only wished she had the strength to dish out those kinds of punishments herself.

“Mhm.” Moses rolled his eyes, reading something in her expression or perhaps feeling her quiet satisfaction through the bond. “Let’s get back inside.”