Chapter 176: When the Apex Predator Asks Your Name

Chapter 176: Chapter 176: When the Apex Predator Asks Your Name

The moment the person entered, the air itself seemed to change density.

Even Laila’s breath hitched once.

Jenna’s did the same.

Whatever authority the two of them carried in this room simply folded under the new presence like paper under a boot.

I remained sitting, cuffs still locked, the last of the probe energy still buzzing behind my eyes, and for the first time since the rooftop I felt the full, mocking weight of every choice that had led here.

Red spiky hair.

Yellow eyes that were not the Hunger but something older and far more practiced.

A dark coat worn open over a frame that looked like it had been built exclusively for violence and cameras.

Draven.

The support who kissed on live dungeon feeds, who cleared S-rank gates with a smile, who Gianna had once called unreachable while we watched him on a restaurant screen what felt like years ago.

He walked in like it was just another Tuesday.

"Oh, relax, girls. I’m not here to fight."

He paused, head tilting with theatrical confusion.

"Wait—why or who would I fight in the first place?"

He nudged Laila’s shoulder with easy familiarity, then turned the full force of that yellow gaze on Jenna.

"Long time no see."

Jenna nodded once, the motion clipped, and immediately shifted so she stood between the chair and the door, between him and me.

Outside the observation glass, Giselle stood with her arms folded, white hair falling forward, deliberately not looking at anyone in the room.

Draven’s attention landed on me.

The amusement in his face deepened.

"What do we have here?"

He circled half a step closer, hands in his coat pockets.

"You know, I really didn’t plan on coming down to the academy. It’s been a long time since a support looked interesting enough to interrupt my schedule. But then I saw someone kissing in the middle of an intake exam."

He let the silence hang, clearly expecting an answer, and when none came, he supplied it himself.

"Me, of course. I kiss during raids. It’s such a cool move. None of the other supports ever pick it up. Even that bastard Cillian would rather fuck at home than give the cameras a show."

Jenna drew breath to interrupt.

Draven raised one hand without looking at her.

"Let me finish."

He hopped up onto the metal table, the same perch Giselle had used, and the difference in scale became obvious.

The broadcasts had never quite captured how tall he was, or how the muscles under the coat seemed to carry their own pressure.

Power brimming so densely that the dampeners in the walls gave a low, unhappy hum.

"So naturally I got curious," he continued.

"Is the kid just showing off because he can fight a little, or is he actually a great support... until..."

His expression shifted, the smile thinning into something colder.

"You kissed Giselle. No. Not kissed, exactly. Forcing yourself."

He clicked his tongue three times, soft and deliberate.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. How bad of a support do you have to be to assault a participant, especially my niece?"

I kept my face blank.

Mostly because the red spikes of his hair looked ridiculous against the gravity of his voice, and the mismatch was the only thing stopping the situation from feeling completely lethal.

Everything about him was off-putting: the casual posture, the television-ready cadence, the way he treated the room like a set, except for the strength.

That part was real enough to make the cuffs feel decorative.

Draven turned toward Jenna.

"I’m taking him to Sector 5 for a week. Punishment."

He rolled a formal notice out of his coat like a street performer producing a card and held it between two fingers.

Jenna took it.

Her eyes moved across the text once, twice.

The colour that drained from her face had nothing to do with fatigue.

"No—"

"Talk with the Empress if you want," Draven said lightly.

"Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill him. I’m just curious. I want to know who’s stupid enough to take a risk that large in front of every camera the academy owns."

He jumped down from the table, landing without a sound.

"Also..."

The smile came back, wider and far less friendly.

"I heard he hasn’t been in any of the lab records for Sector 7."

Jenna said nothing.

Laila’s head snapped toward her.

"What?"

"Yeah."

Draven’s yellow eyes flicked between the two women, clearly enjoying the fracture.

"Apparently this one wasn’t grown in a facility. His existence is just... unknown. I mean, I understand why you’d keep that quiet."

The smile turned frankly predatory.

"I hope you’re ready for the consequences if the other Empresses find out. Well—I won’t reveal anything, as long as you hand him over for a week."

The silence that followed was different from the earlier ones.

It had weight

Jenna’s hand settled on the back of my chair, fingers close enough that I could feel the controlled tremor she was not allowing into her voice.

"A week," she said.

"Seven days. I’ll return him in roughly the same number of pieces he arrived in. Probably."

Draven shrugged.

"Depends on how interesting the conversations are."

Laila recovered enough to speak, though her usual calm had developed a hairline crack.

"The board has not formalised any inter-sector transfer—"

"The board," Draven cut in, still looking at Jenna, "can file whatever paperwork makes them feel useful. Empress Yelena already countersigned the temporary custody order. You can argue with her directly if you’d like. I’ll even hold the door."

He turned the full force of that yellow gaze back on me.

"What’s your name again, kid?"

"Revien."

"Full name?"

"Revien."

"Only Revien."

He tasted the syllables like they were a new dish.

"Try not to look so tragic. Most supports never get a private audience with me. You should be flattered."

I was not flattered.

I was calculating the exact distance between the chair and the door, the number of suppressors still active on my wrists, and the very real possibility that Jenna was about to start a political incident that would make the exam rooftop look like a training spar.

Jenna’s voice, when it came, was quiet enough that only the three of us and the recording devices would catch it.

"If any permanent damage occurs—core, memory, or otherwise—Sector 7 will treat it as an act of inter-sector aggression."

Draven’s smile only widened.

"Will you now? I don’t remember anyone strong enough in Sector 7 to fight me, Jenna. Not even the empress would risk it. Don’t waste your feelings on a support like him."