Chapter 3 Rooming with the Enemy

Kerensa’s POV

A wave of something hot and violent surged up my throat, a mixture of panic and a hatred so deep it felt like a part of my soul. I forced it down, swallowing hard until the metallic taste of it filled my mouth.

I let my duffel bag fall to the floor with a heavy thud, the sound making them both turn in unison. Their eyes met mine, and the air in the room seemed to crystallize, becoming sharp and brittle. For a long moment, there was only the sound of my own breathing, loud in my ears. Then recognition dawned in their eyes, followed by a stunned disbelief.

"Rhys?" Hunter's voice came low, a rumble that vibrated through the floor and up my spine. "Is that really you?"

Xavier said nothing, his gaze intense and analytical as he studied me, his dark eyes narrowed. He was always the more observant one, the more calculating. The more dangerous.

I stood there, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my expression a carefully constructed mask of indifference. Turning my gaze to the window behind them, I let the silence stretch.

Hunter took a step toward me, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his handsome face. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. We heard you and your mom took off, that you'd disappeared. What are you doing here, Rhys? Come back to show everyone you still got it?"

I picked up my duffel bag and walked past him toward the empty bed, my gaze fixed on a point just over his shoulder. I felt his anger radiating in waves as my lack of response began to grate on him.

"Still not much of a talker, I see," he said, his voice losing its playful edge and taking on a harder, more mocking tone. "Some things never change. You've changed, though. Thinner. Smaller. What happened to the hockey star everyone was talking about? Did you get scared? Did you run away and hide like a little girl?"

The words landed as a deliberate, calculated jab, meant to provoke, and I had to physically stop myself from flinching. I kept my face blank, my body still. He was trying to get to me, to find the weak spot he had always been so good at exploiting, but he had no idea who he was really talking to.

Hunter circled me slowly, his eyes roving over my body with an unnerving intensity.

"I guess life on the run will do that to you. It's tough out there for a packless wolf. Especially one who's all alone." He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or are you? Is your mom here? What about your little sister Kerensa?"

The name landed like a physical blow, but I didn't move. I didn't even blink.

"Careful," I said quietly but steadily, meeting his eyes for the first time. "You say her name again, and you'll regret it."

I unzipped my duffel bag and began pulling out clothes, stacking them with deliberate precision on the bed, refusing to give him any further reaction. I remembered the way he used to say that name, twisting it into something ugly and vile, a taunt that always made my cheeks burn with shame.

I would not give him that power again.

"Oh, a threat," Hunter said, though something flickered behind his eyes, a flash of uncertainty quickly masked by bravado. "Cat got your tongue the rest of the time, though? Or are you just still scared of us? After all these years, you're still the same pathetic little boy who couldn't even protect his own sister."

Anger rolled off him, hot and suffocating. He grew more infuriated by my silence, by my refusal to engage further, like a child throwing a tantrum, and I was the only thing standing in his way.

"Say something," he demanded, his voice rising. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

I continued folding a shirt, my jaw set, my hands clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

"That's enough, Hunter."

Xavier's voice sounded colder than I remembered, sharper, but it still had the same effect on me. It was the voice of authority, the voice of the older brother who had always been in control, the one whose cold indifference had always hurt more than Hunter's loud cruelty.

Hunter turned to face his brother, his face flushed with anger. "Why? I'm just making conversation. It's not every day you run into a ghost from your past."

"He's not a ghost," Xavier said, his eyes still fixed on me, his expression unreadable. "He's here. And he's trying out. Just like us."

The implication hung in the air between us, unspoken but understood. We were competitors now. Rivals. And in the world of werewolf hockey, rivals didn't mix. They didn't room together. They didn't talk about the past.

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wild blond curls. "Fine. Whatever. I'm going for a run. Don't wait up."

He shot me one last venomous glare before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed pressed down heavy and suffocating, broken only by the sound of my own breathing. I finally moved, grabbing my duffel bag and walking over to the bed by the door.

Xavier's eyes stayed on me, his gaze intense and analytical.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you," he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. "Don't let him."

I kept unpacking my clothes, my movements stiff and robotic, offering no response. Tears welled in my eyes, and I fought them back, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

"He doesn't mean it," Xavier continued, taking a step closer to me. "He's just... Hunter. He doesn't think before he speaks."

"Doesn't he?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, finally turning to face him. "Because it sounded to me like he meant every word."

Xavier's expression softened with something that looked suspiciously like guilt. "We were cruel to you. To your sister Kerensa. I know that."

The sound of my real name on his lips landed like a punch to the gut, and I took an involuntary step back, my eyes wide with shock.

"I... I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For all of it. For everything."

I stared at him, my anger momentarily replaced by a stunned disbelief. I had never heard Xavier apologize for anything. It was... disconcerting.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," I said, my voice cold and hard.

"I know," he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But it's all I have."

I turned away from him, my back ramrod straight. I didn't want his apology. I didn't want his guilt. I wanted justice, and I would do whatever it took to get it.

I finished unpacking my clothes in silence, then grabbed my toiletry bag and a clean towel.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Don't follow me."

I didn't wait for his response, just walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I leaned against the door, my body trembling with a mixture of rage and fear and something else I couldn't quite identify. Something that felt dangerously close to hope.

I turned on the shower, the sound of the water filling the small space and drowning out my thoughts. I stripped off my clothes, my movements stiff and robotic, and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the day's grime.

The water had barely warmed when someone pounded on the bathroom door, hard enough to rattle it in the frame.

"Yo. Rhys." Hunter's voice, muffled but unmistakable, edged with impatience. "You planning on living in there?"

I shut my eyes, willing him to go away. He didn't.

"Man, come on." Another pound, harder this time. "I gotta go. Like, now. Some of us don't have all night to stand around admiring ourselves in the mirror."

"Use the one down the hall," I called back, my voice tight.

"The one down the hall has a line out the door, that's why I'm here." A pause, then, quieter, laced with mock suspicion, "What are you even doing in there? You've been in there twenty minutes. What are you hiding?"

"Give me a minute," I snapped, already reaching for the shampoo, my movements quick and clumsy.

"You've had a minute. You've had ten of them." I heard him drop his forehead against the door with a dull thud. "I'm going to start narrating my suffering out here if you don't hurry up."

"Hunter." Xavier's voice, farther back, flat with exasperation. "Let the man shower in peace."

"I would love to let the man shower in peace if the man's shower wasn't standing between me and a medical emergency."

Despite myself, despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitched. I killed it fast, turned the water off, and moved through the rest of my routine in record time, toweling off, yanking my clothes on, wrapping the binding tight and even under my shirt with hands that had gotten far too practiced at doing it fast.

When I finally hauled the door open, Hunter was slouched against the frame, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in exaggerated patience.

"Finally," he said, shouldering past me before I'd fully cleared the doorway. "I take it back. Twenty minutes was generous."

I didn't answer. I just grabbed my things and retreated toward my curtained bed, my pulse only now beginning to slow, grateful, for once, that his complaints had been about nothing more than a full bladder.