Chapter 108: I Am In Your Debt

I blinked, feeling the sudden, blistering heat of his Alpha aura wash over my skin.

For a second, the raw, unbridled threat in his emerald eyes reminded me terrifyingly of the beast trapped in that equipment shed.

Recognizing that poking a half-restrained wolf while alone was a quick way to get myself backed into a corner, I slowly relaxed my wrist in his grip.

"Alright," I said, my voice dropping back into a cool, even tone as I stepped half a pace back. "Point taken. You can let go now."

Zero stared down at me for two long, shuddering seconds before his fingers loosened. He practically yanked his hand away, running it over his face as he took three sharp steps back, leaning against the padded ring post to catch his breath.

His chest heaved in heavy, uneven gulps as he fought to force his surging wolf back into submission.

I smoothed down my top and crossed my arms over my chest, watching him with a flat, expectant expression.

"I am... deeply sorry, Brianna Wells," Zero rasped out, his voice rough and laced with genuine, agonizing guilt. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the polished metal floor between us, unable to meet my gaze. "What happened in that shed... my behavior, my actions... there is no excuse. I lost control of my rut, and I subjected a student—an unawakened Omega—to something inexcusable."

You honestly don’t need to rub it in that I don’t have a wolf you know.

"You certainly did," I said with a deadpan expression, raising an eyebrow. "I recall being told you’d ’take responsibility’ right before you nearly sucked the air straight out of my lungs."

Zero’s golden cheeks flushed an even deeper, darker red, his jaw clenching hard.

"I meant every word," Zero said quietly, his emerald eyes finally snapping up to lock onto mine. The shame in his expression was undeniable, but behind it was a firm, unyielding resolve. "I didn’t flee or pretend it didn’t happen because I’m a coward. I submitted a formal request for administrative leave the very next morning to remove myself from campus until I could properly address it without violating protocol."

He took a slow, heavy breath, lowering his head slightly in a gesture of absolute humility.

"I am in your debt. You broke that door down and saved my life—and my honor—when you could have left me to suffer severe organ failure. If you wish to file a formal complaint with the Education Bureau, I will sign the confession without protest. But if you allow me... I will take full responsibility for protecting you through this tournament and beyond."

I stood unmoving, taking in the sheer, earnest gravity of his words. There was no Alpha posturing, no high-born arrogance like Benjamin, and no cold, manipulative games like Edgar. Just a man who knew he had crossed a line and was genuinely ready to pay the price.

Jeez... this guy really is far too honest for his own good, I thought, letting out a small, tired breath.

"Keep your license, Instructor Nightingale," I said smoothly, turning back toward the weapon rack. "I don’t need your public confession, nor do I need you ruining your career over a rut fever. Just teach me how to optimize my kinetic output without tearing my muscles—that’s all the responsibility I need from you."

Zero blinked, clearly stunned by my casual dismissal of an scandal that could have ruined his life.

"Is that truly all you want?" Zero asked, his voice dripping with genuine disbelief as his emerald eyes searched my face.

I tilted my head, looking back at him over my shoulder, completely oblivious. "What else is there?"

He went completely silent, his jaw working as if he were trying to process an alien language.

What? Does he want me to demand financial compensation? I thought, running a quick mental inventory of my bank account. I mean, I could certainly ask for a fat stack of cash, but... nah, forget it.

"Won’t you... ask me to take care of you for the rest of your life?" he finally rasped out, his throat bobbing as he watched me nervously.

I froze, my hand hovering right over a polished pair of combat daggers on the weapon rack.

Say what now?

Ah. Now I understand why he was so completely stunned.

Usually, an Omega of my low social standing would jump at the chance to exploit a situation like that. A high-tier Alpha instructor getting out of control in a locked room?

Most girls in the slums would have used that scandal as leverage to demand he bond with them, marry them, and take care of them for the rest of their lives—all under the guise of ’protecting her purity.’

I picked at my ear with my pinky finger, letting out a flat, unimpressed huff.

"I don’t really need a man to take care of me," I stated bluntly.

My mind briefly flicked to Edgar—and the massive, multi-million dollar Morningstar villa my family was currently occupying. Well, okay, maybe I’m contradicting myself a little bit there with the housing situation... but that’s a business contract, not a lifelong ball-and-chain!

If I understood his terrified, earnest expression clearly, he legitimately thought I was going to force him to bond with me and make me his wife just to cover up one sweaty, rut-fueled mistake.

That was honestly the most ridiculous thing I could ever do in my life. Trapping an unwilling man in a marriage over an accident? Who writes those trashy soap opera scripts anyway? I’m way over it.

I turned back to face Zero, tossing one of the lightweight training daggers from my left hand to my right with an effortless, blindingly fast spin.

"Listen to me carefully, Instructor Nightingale," I said, holding his intense emerald gaze. "I’m not interested in trapping you, your salary, or your Alpha scent into a lifetime contract. I have my own goals, and none of them involve becoming a pampered housewife."

Zero stood rooted to the spot, his mouth parting slightly in absolute shock. The lingering guilt and tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate all at once, replaced by a profound, almost awestruck respect.

A low, breathless laugh escaped his chest, and for the first time since I stepped into the dome, a genuine, blindingly handsome smile broke across his golden features.

"You really are extraordinary, Miss Wells," Zero said softly, his emerald eyes shining with a warm, steady light. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fresh pair of padded leather wraps, and tossed them to me. "Wrap your wrists. If we’re going to optimize your kinetic strikes, we start with your wrist alignment."

I caught the wraps effortlessly out of the air. "Now you’re talking."

...

I tossed the empty water bottle into a bin and sat down on the bench inside the villa’s private subterranean training facility, taking a slow, deep breath to let my racing pulse cool down.

My eyes drifted across the gleaming wall racks displaying dozens of specialized combat weapons—tungsten daggers, composite longswords, and reinforced polearms catching the harsh stadium lights.

"I’m resuming school tomorrow," I said, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from my forehead with a towel. "So I guess our lessons will have to be in the afternoons, towards the evening."

Zero was standing near the weapon rack, carefully wiping down a pair of training daggers before sliding them into their leather sheaths. He turned to face me, his broad shoulders relaxing as his emerald eyes met mine.

"That won’t be a problem," Zero said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "Your retention and body control are exceptional, Miss Wells. You’re a ridiculously quick learner. Even with only a few days left before the tournament and limited time to retrain your physical form, I know you can pull it off."

I looked up at him, letting out a soft, amused laugh as I leaned back against the wall.

"Is this a compliment coming from the Academy’s sternest battle instructor?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I reached out and playfully nudged his arm.

Zero froze. He swallowed hard, an audible gulp echoing in his throat as the sudden, casual contact sent a subtle flush back into his golden cheeks. He didn’t say much, quickly clearing his throat and averting his eyes to adjust the strap on his glove.

I let out a quiet huff, giving him a knowing nod. "Alright, I’ll take it as such."

Before Zero could attempt to recover his professional composure, the steel doors hissed open.

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed against the metal catwalk above us as Edgar Morningstar descended the spiral stairs.

He had shed his formal coat, wearing a dark silk vest over a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A glass of amber liquor rested loosely in his fingers, his dark golden eyes taking in the sight of us standing close together.

"I trust the first session went productively?" Edgar purred smoothly, his deep, commanding voice cutting through the sterile air of the dome.