"Let her go?" Jax repeated Finnick’s words, his mocking tone growing louder as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke of the century. He let out a dry, hollow laugh, glancing around the room to gather support from the students who were already starting to whisper.

"You hear that, Indy? This piece of trash is trying to play the hero for you," Jax said, his voice jumping an octave, dripping with deliberate hatred and serving as a sharp warning to Finnick for daring to speak up.

Jax stepped forward, pressing his chest directly against Finnick’s. He intentionally puffed out his athletic frame to intimidate the man standing before him. His left hand moved in a flash, grabbing the collar of Finnick’s neat shirt and yanking it upward until the bespectacled boy was forced onto his tiptoes.

"Listen here, you pathetic nerd," Jax hissed right in Finnick’s face. "In this school, you’re nothing but the dirt stuck to the bottom of my shoe. You don’t have the right to speak, let alone have the balls to boss me around. You know what happens to cockroaches that crawl out in front of me? I crush them until they’re nothing," he sneered.

"Jax, let go! That hurts, you idiot!" Indiana groaned, trying to jerk her hand away, but Jax only pulled her harder until she collided with the side of a desk.

"Shut up, Indy! I’m busy giving your new pet a lesson," Jax barked without looking back. His eyes, hungry for dominance, returned to Finnick. "Why are you so quiet now? Where’d that nerve go? You gonna cry? Or are you gonna run and tattle to Indy’s mommy so she can protect you?" he mocked.

Finnick didn’t move—not even when Jax’s spit landed on his cheek. But Indiana, standing so close, could feel a shift in the atmosphere. The air around Finnick seemed to turn ice-cold, like the heavy pressure before a blizzard hits. She saw Finnick’s jaw tighten, and behind those boring, thick lenses, his blue eyes were now as dark as the deepest ocean.

"Let. Her. Go. Now." Finnick repeated. His voice wasn’t loud, but it vibrated with an authority so heavy it made the students at the neighboring tables shiver for no apparent reason.

"You son of a—! You still think you can challenge me?!" Jax finally lost it. He swung a powerful right hook, aiming directly for Finnick’s jaw.

Thwack!

The sound of the impact was solid, but it didn’t sound like a fist hitting flesh. Indiana’s eyes widened. Finnick had raised his right hand in a movement nearly impossible for the eye to track, catching Jax’s fist in his open palm.

Jax froze. He tried to pull his hand back, but Finnick’s grip was like a steel vise locking his knuckles in place. Finnick’s face remained as expressionless as a stone slab, but the sheer strength he channeled through that grip made the color drain from Jax’s face.

"You... you’re actually fighting back, you bastard?" Jax’s voice began to tremble between rage and the pain radiating up his arm. He cursed internally because his fist felt shattered, as if he had punched a reinforced steel wall.

"I said get out, Jax. Before I forget that we’re on school grounds," Finnick hissed. Then, with a shove that looked effortless but was incredibly powerful, Finnick pushed against Jax’s chest.

Jax’s body was hurled backward, slamming into a bookshelf that collapsed and sent books raining down on him. The thunderous crash echoed through the library, prompting the librarian to stand up and scream at them to be quiet.

"You’re dead! Just wait until tomorrow! I’ll make sure you don’t have a face left to show at this school, you nerd!" Jax threatened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He glared at Indiana with a mix of shame and hatred before turning around and kicking a bookshelf near the exit to vent his rage.

Indiana’s jaw dropped; she couldn’t process what she had just witnessed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Finnick slowly sit back down, returning to his typing with an uncanny level of calm. It was as if absolutely nothing had happened.

What the actual f—? she cursed silently.

***

After the last period that afternoon, the sky turned a bruised, dark gray. Indiana felt restless the entire way to the motorcycle lot. All day, her mind had been stuck on the image of Finnick’s expression. How could the man she had always considered weak possess that kind of power?

As she was thinking about him, she saw Finnick walking calmly down a narrow alleyway next to the outer parking lot—a shortcut that was usually deserted. Her curiosity won out; she left her bike behind and tried to follow him.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, you piece of trash?!" someone shouted loudly.

Finnick stopped. In front of him stood Jax, wearing a bloodthirsty smirk. Behind him were four thugs in modified school uniforms; Indiana knew them as a gang of hired muscle usually brought in for dirty work. One of them, a guy with a buzz cut and a scar over his eyebrow, was twirling a wooden bat in his hand.

"You felt real tough in the library because of the teachers, didn't you?" Jax spat to the side, his eyes full of vengeance. "Now I brought my friends. They want to see if your hands are still that strong after we break them one by one".

The massive thug next to Jax took a step forward. "This is the nerd you were talking about, Jax? This twiggy kid? I could kill him with one hit. You lost to a kid like this? That’s embarrassing," the thug spat near Jax’s shoe.

Jax didn't dare talk back.

Finnick let out a long sigh, as if he’d just been asked to solve a boring math problem. He showed no sign of fear. Slowly, he removed his thick glasses, folded them carefully, and tucked them into his inner shirt pocket.

"I’m really not in the mood for a workout this afternoon," Finnick murmured, his voice sounding completely different.

"Talk all you want, you're dead!" The thug with the bat lunged forward.

Finnick moved. Instead of retreating, he lunged forward, closing the distance into the opponent's guard. His movements were agile and fluid—not like someone in a brawl, but like a predator dancing. As the wooden bat swung toward his head, Finnick simply tilted his head a few inches to avoid it, with perfect precision. Wasting no time, he delivered a short, sharp punch to the man's solar plexus.

The massive man collapsed instantly, vomiting on the asphalt in a single strike.

The other three froze for a second before charging all at once. The narrow alley suddenly erupted with the sounds of physical impact and groans of pain. Finnick moved like a black shadow in the twilight of the alley. He parried kicks, twisted arms until a sickening crack echoed, and delivered precise strikes to pressure points.

Indiana, who had been following at a distance out of anxiety, hid behind the alley wall. Her eyes went wide with disbelief. She saw Finnick—the "loser" who always kept his head down in class, the person she thought was just an NPC—systematically taking down four thugs at once without breaking a single drop of sweat.

He was a completely different person.

When only a trembling Jax was left standing, Finnick walked toward him. The aura he projected was now so dominant, so crushing, that Jax felt like the oxygen was being sucked out of the air.

"Wh... what are you? Are you a demon?!" Jax whispered in terror, backing up until his spine hit the cold brick wall.

Finnick grabbed Jax’s throat with one hand, lifting him until Jax was dangling on his tiptoes. Even in the shadows of the alley, Indiana could see Finnick’s eyes glowing a bright, electric blue, reminding her of the lightning-flash in a wolf’s eyes at midnight.

"Remember this well, Jax," Finnick’s voice was low, nearly a guttural growl that vibrated through bone. "If you ever touch Indiana again, or even mention her name with your filthy mouth... I’ll make sure you don't have a tongue left to speak with. Understand?"

Jax could only nod frantically, his face turning blue from lack of air. Finnick dropped him, and Jax collapsed to the ground, shaking violently as if he had just come face-to-face with a monster.

***

The next morning in the high school’s main corridor.

Indiana walked with hesitant steps. ВВShe was intentionally wearing her leather jacket to hide her anxiety. She hadn't slept all night, the scene in the alley playing on loop in her mind. Who was Finnick, really?

As she passed the lockers, she saw a very unusual sight. Jax, Brock, and Rhett were huddled together. However, their "kings of the school" aura had completely vanished. Jax had a large bandage on his forehead, his arm was in a sling, and his face was as pale as if he’d just seen a ghost.

"Jax!" Indiana called out.

Jax flinched so hard he nearly dropped his books. The moment he saw Indiana approaching, his eyes widened in terror. He didn't greet her with a hug like usual; instead, he backed away several steps.

"Indy... please, just stay away from me!" Jax yelled, his voice raspy and stuttering.

"Wait, why? Why are you all beat up? Who dared to lay a hand on my boyfriend?" Indiana asked, trying to test Jax’s honesty. She reached out to touch his forehead, but Jax flinched away in a panic, as if Indiana’s hand were a scorching flame.

"It’s nothing! I... I fell! Yeah, we all fell down the stairs together! Look, I gotta go, don't call me anymore!" Jax and his crew immediately bolted, leaving Indiana standing bewildered in the middle of the hallway.

"Fell down the stairs together? That is the least creative lie ever," Indiana muttered.

But suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. There was a powerful presence behind her. Indiana turned slowly, her heart pounding.

Standing there, about fifteen feet behind her, was Finnick Axton. He looked like the usual Finnick, with his neat shirt buttoned all the way up and thick glasses slipping slightly down his nose, clutching a math reference book the size of a pillow. He still looked incredibly boring and harmless.

However, Indiana caught a split-second moment before Finnick realized she was there. She saw Finnick’s eyes—sharp, cold, and full of a deadly threat—guarding the back of the retreating Jax. It was the gaze of a predator monitoring its prey to ensure it stayed on the path he’d set.

The moment he noticed Indiana turn around, Finnick instantly adjusted his expression. His face went back to being flat, vacant, and seemingly indifferent to the world.

Indiana stood in silence, her tongue tied.

So yesterday wasn't just my imagination. This NPC really did it. Jax was scared to death just seeing him behind me.

"Finnick?" Indiana called out softly.

Finnick pushed his glasses up with his middle finger—a stiff, habitual movement. "The bell rings in three minutes, Indiana. Don’t forget, we have our math session during lunch. Don't be late again," he warned in a flat tone.

Finnick then turned and walked calmly toward class, leaving Indiana still frozen in place.

Mr. NPC, you’ve definitely caught my attention... Indiana thought to herself with a hidden smirk.

The final bell had rung over an hour ago.

In the quiet expanse of the library, Finnick’s gaze drifted toward the wall clock with growing irritation.

It was as if the clock itself were the enemy, ticking away mercilessly and mocking him as he sat there, still waiting for Indiana to swagger through those doors with her usual arrogant attitude.

'Damn it, I knew she would be the death of me,' Finnick cursed silently.

'I was naive to think a girl like her would suddenly find some discipline and actually keep her word.'

He stood up, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, and took a long, stabilizing breath to wipe any trace of annoyance from his face, forcing his expression back into a cold, unreadable blank slate.

'I need to find out if she's even worth another second of my time.'

Finnick headed toward the classrooms to track her down, fully expecting to find her lingering and gossiping with the others.

But she’s not there, the room almost empty.

He had guessed wrong, and for some unsettling reason, his chest tightened—a sudden drop in his gut that caught him completely off guard.

A girl packing up her books noticed his eyes scanning the empty rows.

"Looking for someone?" she asked in a friendly tone.

"Indiana," Finnick replied flatly, his face a mask of indifference.

Though her brows knitted in sheer confusion as to why Finnick the Nerd was looking for the school's resident rebel, she still answered, "Probably wasting time by the parking lot with Jax and his crowd."

Without offering a single word of thanks, Finnick turned and walked away.

His strides lengthened as he cut through the shadows toward the deserted back parking lot.

Faintly, his hyper-acute wolf senses picked up a laugh he recognized all too well. It was Jax, his laugh sounding forced and hollow, blending with the low, venomous whispers of his lackeys behind the concrete wall of the motorcycle lot.

"I'm not just letting it slide, getting trashed like that by that pathetic loser," Jax spat, gingerly touching his arm where it hung cradled in a sling.

"But I figured out that nerd's weak spot. He tried to play the hero for Indiana in the library yesterday, right? It means, he gives a shit about her," Jax instigated, his voice dripping with malice.

"Wahoo, I sensed our next move?" Brock asked, leaning in, completely hooked.

"I’m going to use Indiana to break him. Besides, she’s been playing the girlfriend part for a while now but keeps acting like she’s untouchable. Touch her even a little and she flinches away. I’m betting she’s still a virgin, which makes her a much more entertaining target," Jax laughed, spitting onto the asphalt with a repulsive smirk twisting his face.

"Tonight, she's finally going to learn her place. I kill two birds with one stone, I take Indiana, and get my sweet revenge on the Nerd as well," Jax bragged, laughing to himself.

Behind the wall, Finnick’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together.

'A virgin? Hah,' he scoffed internally, his skepticism flaring.

'What a load of absolute bullshit.'

For a split second, Finnick was on the verge of stepping out from the shadows and snapping Jax’s neck to put an end to his sick little plan, but he forced his instincts down.

He couldn't be reckless. What he needed to do right now was find Indiana and snap some sense into her.

'But where the hell is she?' he thought, frustration building up.

His question was answered a second later when Jax carelessly leaked her exact location.

"Where and when are we doing this?" Brock asked, his excitement ramping up.

Jax’s next words were all Finnick needed to hear before deciding to track Indiana down himself.

***

THUD.

The heavy door swung open, and a suffocating wave of nicotine hit Finnick’s nose, making him wince.

Low, hazy neon lights in shades of bleeding red and purple blinked sluggishly, cutting through the thick smoke hanging in the air.

The oppressive thumping of the bass vibrated right through the wooden floorboards of the shady, low-end club tucked away in a dark corner of Dreadmoor.

His eyes swept the room, and the moment they locked onto his target, his wolf instincts roared to life.

In the center of a low stage, surrounded by a crowd of leering, intoxicated men, a girl in a vibrant purple wig and a black lace mask was swaying to the rhythm, her hands gripping a stripper pole.

Indiana.

Even with the mask obscuring her features, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of the mate bond radiating from her skin was something Finnick could never mistake.

She was wearing next to nothing, putting her sharp curves on full display and striking provocative poses just to collect the crumpled dollar bills tossed onto the stage.

A dark, primal Alpha rage exploded in Finnick's chest.

His blood ran scalding hot. How dare his she-wolf parade her untouched, sacred body in front of these disgusting, pathetic men?

Maneuvering through the crowd without a second thought, he leaped onto the stage and wrapped his hand around Indiana’s wrist, his grip bringing her movements to a dead stop.

"We’re leaving. Now," Finnick hissed, his voice vibrating with the sheer effort of holding back his inner beast.

Indiana’s eyes went wide behind the lace mask.

"Finnick?! How the hell did you—let go of me! What do you think you're doing!" She tried to wrench her arm free, but his hand was an unyielding cuff of steel.

"I said get the hell out of this dumpster, Indiana!" Finnick snapped, his tone darkening.

"This is my job, freak! Stop trying to play the damn hero! Get out of here before you get me fired!" Indiana whispered fiercely, trying desperately to avoid a massive scene.

Her pride as a rebel girl refused to break; she deliberately stepped into his space, tilting her body up to challenge him with the same provocative stance she used on customers.

"Unless, of course, you want to pay for my time with that little pathetic pocket money you have," she taunted, giving him a sharp, wicked wink.

Finnick’s jaw tightened into a hard line.

The suffocating aura of an Alpha’s dominance bled out just enough to make the hairs on the back of Indiana’s neck stand on end.

"You cheap, foolish girl," he murmured, his voice laced with pure disgust.

"What did you just say to me?!" Indiana snapped, all attempts at keeping her cool completely vanishing.

"Get the hell off this stage, you loser!" she roared.

"Not without you."

An intense, chaotic tug-of-war broke out between them.

Indiana kicked and thrashed, her blinding stubbornness crashing head-on into Finnick’s absolute dominance.

The scene instantly drew the wrong kind of attention.

Three burly men in club bouncer uniforms marched onto the stage, one of them shoving a heavy hand into Finnick’s shoulder.

"Hey, brat! Let go of her before I break your arm in half!" the head bouncer barked.

Finnick didn't retreat a single inch.

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, boring his cold gaze into the guard before shifting his eyes toward a middle-aged man in a sharp suit watching from a VIP booth—the club owner.

"You've made a fatal mistake," Finnick said, his voice terrifyingly calm, cutting right through the booming bass.

"Employing a minor in an establishment like this is a federal crime. One phone call from me, and this place gets boarded up right this second," he threatened with so much confidence.

At the mention of the threat, the owner's face turned incredibly dark. He gave a cold, dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Drag the bastard to the back alley. Teach him a lesson so he learns to keep his mouth shut."

Brak!

Finnick’s body crashed hard against a pile of filthy trash cans in the pitch-black back alley of the club.

Indiana burst through the exit door, her breath coming in ragged gasps, "Finnick! Get up! Run, you idiot!" she screamed, panic taking over.

It was too late.

The four club bouncers and the owner had already closed in on them, trapping them against the brick wall.

Finnick rose slowly, calmly brushing the dirt off his clothes.

Physically, he could have torn these five men limb from limb in less than three seconds. But his hands were tied. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint glow of a phone screen. Someone from the window of the adjacent building was recording the entire thing.

If Finnick unleashed even a fraction of his monstrous strength, his cover would blow completely. Clenching his teeth, he made a split-second executive decision, ‘Let them hit me.’

Fist after fist rained down on Finnick’s stomach and face. The massive men beat him brutally, showing no mercy.

Finnick allowed himself to collapse onto the cold asphalt, taking hit after hit as they kicked him repeatedly until his lip split open and his glasses cracked across the lenses.

"Sir! Enough! Stop it, please stop!" Indiana shrieked hysterically, throwing herself forward to intervene, but another guard shoved her back roughly, sending her crashing to the ground.

Tears streamed down her face, her chest aching with a strange, hollow panic as she watched the nerd—the boy who had only come to save her—getting broken and bloodied right in front of her.

Once Finnick stopped moving, the club owner spat onto the ground. "Let’s go. And you, Indiana... you’re done here. Don’t ever show your face in my club again."

Indiana scrambled on her hands and knees toward Finnick’s limp body. "Finnick... hey, open your eyes... you idiot," she whispered frantically, her hands shaking as she patted his bruised, bleeding face.

Finnick opened his swollen eyes just a fraction, his gaze locking onto hers.

"You are so much trouble," he muttered weakly, before closing his eyes again, forcing himself to feign unconsciousness.

***

The following morning, Stuart Academy was practically on fire.

The video of the brutal beatdown in the alley behind the strip club had spread like wildfire through the school’s class groups.

Making matters worse, the clip was plastered with a blatant caption that exposed the dirty truth: Indiana Stuart, an underage stripper, was the reason for the brawl.

Walking down the corridors, Indiana was met with a barrage of disgusting whispers and mocking sneers, but she kept her head high, forcing her usual arrogant, untouchable defiance onto her face. At the corner by the bulletin board, Jax and his crew were laughing loudest, looking smugly satisfied with a victory they didn't even have to bleed for.

"Indiana Stuart and Finnick Axton! Report to the Principal’s office immediately!" the school intercom boomed, shattering the loud chatter of the hallway.

'Shoot,' Indiana muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Inside the office, Principal Mary stood towering behind her desk, her breathing shallow and ragged, her face flushed a furious crimson as she fought to contain an explosive rage.

"Finnick Axton, since you completely failed to manage my daughter, you can officially kiss your Oxyord application goodbye," Mary sneered, her voice ice-cold as her hands ripped Finnick’s admission papers to shreds, her expression dead and frozen.

"MOM! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! THIS WAS ALL ON ME!" Indiana roared in fury.

"Do you hear me, Finnick Axton?" Mary Stuart repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes locked onto him with a cold, piercing look.

"Consider the letter of recommendation you’ve been begging for from Stuart Academy officially gone. Your reckless little stunt completely trashed this school’s reputation, and Oxyord has absolutely no room for a delinquent candidate like you."

"Now, get the hell out of my office," Mary ordered, her voice cutting through the room like ice.

Indiana’s jaw dropped.

She stood there in absolute disbelief, unable to process the harsh decision coming out of her own mother's mouth.

Her eyes darted from the torn pieces of paper fluttering down to the floor, before instantly shifting to the guy standing right next to her.

Finnick’s face was flushed with a furious crimson, his entire body trembling as he fought back an overwhelming surge of rage.

His good hand clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned stark white, and the veins at his temples throbbed violently.

His jaw locked hard, looking as if he were ready to smash the desk in front of them into toothpicks. Yet, with a monumental effort of sheer self-control, he simply spun on and walked out of the room without uttering a single word.

"W—wait!" Indiana yelled.

She made a move to bolt after him, but her mother’s voice boomed through the space again, stopping her cold.

"You, young lady, stay right where you are. I am not done with you!" Mary barked, rising to her feet and driving her index finger straight toward Indiana’s face.

Indiana froze right at the threshold, her breath coming in ragged gasps from a suffocating mix of guilt, shock, and a sudden explosion of fury tearing through her chest.

She snapped her head back, glaring at the woman who gave birth to her with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"WELL, I AM DAMN WELL DONE WITH YOU! YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER!" Indiana screamed at her mother.

Before Mary could even map out a retort, Indiana slammed the heavy door shut with everything she had.

She took off down the hallway,"Hey! Nerd! Stop!" Indiana yelled toward Finnick’s retreating back, which was already halfway down the hall near the rows of gray lockers.

But Finnick had absolutely no intention of dealing with that girl right now.

He was running dangerously low on patience.

His long, heavy strides only quickened, widening the gap and forcing Indiana into a dead sprint just to keep up with him.

Inside his head, his wolf was throwing a fit, howling in a bloodthirsty frenzy for revenge over the humiliation they had just endured.

His instincts twisted, battling a feral urge to pin the girl running behind him to the ground in a rough, heated tangle.

He wanted to dump all that suffocating emotional tension onto Indiana; the lingering mental image of her curves swaying on that stage was driving his inner beast completely insane.

Finnick blinked rapidly, forcing the vision of her out of his head with every ounce of willpower he possessed.

"Finnick Axton, I said stop!"

Indiana lunged forward, her fingers gripping the edge of his denim jacket with a violent yank, forcing him to spin around instantly.

The moment Finnick faced her, Indiana stumbled back a step, her grip slipping away completely. The look in his eyes behind his cracked lenses was completely feral.

She couldn't even begin to gauge the terrifying depth of his anger right now. It felt exactly like peering over the edge of a pitch-black abyss, just waiting to swallow her alive.

"Let go," Finnick hissed in a low, dangerous whisper.

His voice vibrated with a slight tremor, not out of fear, but because he was actively fighting the monster inside him to keep from snapping at the stubborn, unmanageable brat standing right in front of him.

"I... I just want to talk," Indiana panted, her breath hitching. Her usual dominant, arrogant rebel ego instantly shriveled up under the weight of his suffocating, heavy aura of pure intimidation.

"There is nothing to talk about. You got exactly what you wanted, didn't you? Dragging someone else down into the exact same gutter you live in?"

Indiana let out a sharp, offended scoff, her crushing guilt instantly getting pushed aside by her triggered pride.

"I didn’t mean for you to lose your shot at Oxyord!"

Finnick let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh, "Right... because your brain obviously lacks the capacity to think that far ahead. You’re just a shallow, self-absorbed girl who thinks the entire damn world revolves around her. I am never accepting your apology, not now, not ever. Now go back to your trashy little bubble. I am completely done with you."

Indiana tilted her chin up, her eyes flashing with defiance as she shot the glare right back at him. "Who said anything about apologizing? It’s not too late. I’m going to fix this. Just watch me," she challenged, her voice ringing loud and clear through the empty corridor.

Finnick stepped closer, his massive, broad frame instantly towering over her and cutting off most of her view.

"Really? How?" he scoffed, folding his good arm over his chest with a look of supreme skepticism.

"On the next quiz, I’m going to pull a C+." Indiana crossed her arms over her chest, trying to sound completely confident even though that grade would literally take a miracle for her to achieve.

"Not enough. I want a B+. And that’s me being incredibly considerate," Finnick shot back without a second thought, his eyes narrowing behind his fractured glasses.

"That is totally unfair! You’re forgetting that you’re the reason I just got fired from my gig!" Indiana took a sharp step forward until her boots were almost touching his.

"I took a massive hit too, but you don't see me sulking around like a baby! So why don't you act like a gentleman and admit that you certainly just want to see me fail here?"

Finnick let out a harsh, irritated grunt, cutting his eyes away for a brief second before locking his piercing gaze back onto her.

"Fine. A straight B is my absolute limit. If you pull that off, then maybe we can talk," he decided, his tone final and leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.