Rehearsal had finished and Rika had barely finished showering when she heard the soft click of her dorm door opening. Her stomach sank. She knew that sound. She'd hoped Daika wouldn't follow her after rehearsal, that she could escape into her small sanctuary for a moment of peace but hope was a dangerous luxury.
"Still breathing, kitten?" Daika's voice was low, smooth, and predatory, slicing through the quiet. Rika froze, towels still in hand, heart hammering against her ribs.
"You… you can't just—" Rika stammered, trying to step back, but the room was small, and Daika's presence filled it entirely. Every corner, every shadow, seemed to belong to her.
Daika leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one hip jutting out, casual dominance radiating in waves. "Can't? Or won't?" Her smirk curved like a blade. "You know I always find a way to get what I want."
Rika's chest tightened. She wrapped the towel around herself, gripping it so hard her knuckles went white. "I'm… I'm not yours."
"Oh?" Daika's brow lifted. Her smirk widened, lips parting as if to savor Rika's denial. "Funny. Because every time I look at you, kitten… your body says the exact opposite."
Rika's face burned, her heart stuttering in panic. Her blockers had barely kept her scent at bay during rehearsal; now, trapped in the dorm with Daika, her control felt like it was slipping through her fingers. The air felt heavier, charged with heat and unspoken tension.
She tried to turn, to flee toward the bathroom for more privacy, more control but Daika moved first, stepping closer, closing the distance in just a heartbeat. Rika felt the soft weight of Daika's presence pressing into her, suffocating, intoxicating.
"You're trembling again," Daika whispered, her breath brushing Rika's ear. "Don't pretend you can hide it. I can smell it. Every flinch, every pulse… I know exactly how you feel."
Rika's knees weakened, and she gripped the towel tighter. "I… I don't—"
Daika interrupted her, voice a low purr. "Don't lie. Not to me. You want me, even if you won't admit it. You've wanted me since the stage. Since last night. And you'll want me every time you try to run."
Rika's chest heaved, the words both terrifying and impossible to resist. She wanted to scream, to push, to deny it but her body betrayed her. Her pulse spiked, her scent climbed in waves, sticky and sweet, clinging to the air like honey.
Daika's smile softened slightly, almost tender, but with a razor-thin edge. "Relax, kitten. I'm not asking you to give in—yet. I just want you to feel. Understand what I feel when I look at you."
Rika tried to focus, tried to anchor herself. "You… you can't just… control me like this."
Daika chuckled, dark and low. "Control? I'm not controlling you… not yet. I'm showing you your limits. Testing the boundaries. Seeing how far you can resist before you break. And don't worry…" Her fingers brushed Rika's wrist in a deliberate, teasing motion. "…I know exactly when you're about to."
Rika jerked back, stifling a gasp, the sensation of Daika's touch igniting every nerve. Her breath hitched, and she swore she could feel her knees buckle beneath her. She wanted to escape, to scream, but the small dorm room made every step toward the door a complicated negotiation with Daika's presence.
Daika stepped forward, letting the light catch the sharp planes of her face. Her voice was a velvet dagger, soft but cutting. "You see, kitten… the thing about resistance? It's temporary. You can fight me now, you can hide, you can run, but the moment you're alone… the moment you think you're safe…" She leaned in, lips brushing near Rika's temple. "I'll be there. Waiting. Watching. And you'll remember just how helpless you are."
Rika's chest tightened, and a shiver ran down her spine. Her hands curled into fists around the towel, desperate for something to ground her. "Stop. Please… stop," she whispered, voice shaking.
Daika's smirk softened, almost tender, and her hands rose, brushing a stray lock of hair from Rika's forehead. "There. That's better. Talking helps. Crying helps too. But don't… don't think for a second that you can outrun me."
Rika pressed back against the wall, heat pooling in her stomach, breath stuttering. Every instinct screamed at her: run, escape, hide. But every nerve seemed wired to Daika, every pulse synchronized with the Alpha's gaze.
"You're mine," Daika murmured, almost absentmindedly, brushing her thumb along the inside of Rika's wrist. "Even if you don't believe it yet. Even if you fight."
Rika's mind screamed no, but the echo of the words last night, the look in Kana's eyes, the suffocating weight of Daika's presence… it all made her chest ache with confusion, fear, and something she didn't dare name.
Daika leaned back just slightly, giving her enough space to breathe, but not enough to escape. "Good," she said, voice low, calm, but laced with the promise of more. "Try to fight me. I love it when you fight. It makes me want you even more."
Rika's knees trembled. She felt every ounce of heat, every pulse, every wave of her own scent betray her, leaving her raw and exposed. Her blockers were useless here; nothing could hide what Daika had already claimed, not her body, not her scent, not her mind.
Daika's smirk deepened, a dangerous promise curling at the corners of her lips. "Tonight… we'll see how long your little tricks last, kitten. Don't let me catch you alone without defenses. Or… well…" She let the sentence trail off, letting the threat hang in the air, heavy and intoxicating.
Rika swallowed hard, shivering despite the heat, gripping the towel tighter. She nodded once, barely audible. "I… I'll… try."
Daika's smirk softened just a fraction, almost indulgent. "That's my girl. Keep trying. Because no matter what… you can't escape me. Not really. And that's okay. You'll learn to like it."
And with that, Daika stepped back, leaving the dorm room echoing with her absence but the weight of her presence lingered, thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
Rika sank against the wall, trembling, heart hammering, eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. Every nerve, every instinct, screamed in protest—but beneath the fear, beneath the tension, an undeniable spark of something else smoldered.
Something that both terrified and enticed her.
Rika's dorm felt impossibly silent after Daika left. The weight of her presence lingered like smoke in the corners, curling into every shadow, clinging to every surface. Her hands shook as she clutched her phone, replaying the hallway scene over and over in her mind.
Kana's eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, Rika couldn't shake the way her body had betrayed her, the way Daika's touch had set her nerves alight, burning her from the inside out.
She pressed her forehead against the cool wall, trying to inhale and force herself to think clearly. This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. She's… she's manipulating me. She wants me to break.
But the moment she thought that, she felt the sharp memory of Daika's smirk, the brush of her thumb against her wrist, the whispered words, "You're mine."
Her chest ached with frustration, with longing she refused to acknowledge. She had spent so long training, pushing herself to survive in this cutthroat world, only to feel utterly exposed under the gaze of one person—one Alpha who had learned every vulnerability she thought she had hidden.
Rika shook her head, trying to dislodge the sensation, but it clung. Her blockers were still in her hand, her lifeline, her temporary shield, but she knew they wouldn't be enough the next time Daika decided to corner her.
She moved toward her vanity, trying to focus on the mundane, brushing her hair, applying light makeup but every stroke of the brush seemed to echo Daika's voice in her mind. Every glance at her reflection reminded her of the tension between fear and desire that had no place in her life.
And then there was Kana.
Rika's heart sank at the memory of her friend storming off down the hall, fists clenched, eyes full of disappointment and worry. Kana had seen everything, had smelled the truth about her, and now… now Rika felt like she had lost her trust entirely.
She wanted to call her, to apologize, to explain, but what could she say? "I'm sorry you saw that, but yes… Daika's right, and I don't know how to stop it"? The words felt impossible on her tongue.
She sank onto her bed, hugging her knees, trying to breathe. The clock ticked relentlessly, a cruel reminder that in a few hours, she would have to step back onto the stage. Another performance. Another battle round. Another test of skill and now, of control.
Rika's hands went to the blockers again, shaking as she tried to steady herself. They were supposed to give her power, give her a sense of autonomy, but in the wake of Daika's intrusion, they felt fragile, inadequate.
She tried to force her thoughts back to the choreography, to the routines she had drilled into muscle memory, but every step, every spin, every hand placement seemed tainted by memory. Daika's eyes. Daika's touch. Daika's smirk.
No. She pressed her palms against her eyes. Focus. You can do this. You have to.
But even as she repeated the mantra, even as she tried to steel herself, she felt a spark of rebellion flicker in her chest—not against Daika, not yet—but against the helplessness, against the feeling that she could be consumed so easily by someone else's will.
Rika's thoughts turned to strategy. If she couldn't escape Daika entirely, she could at least control the battlefield, the stage. If she mastered her focus, her timing, her movements, she could regain some sense of autonomy. She could reclaim a piece of herself, piece by painstaking piece.
And so, she began to rehearse in her mind, tracing every movement, every gesture, every nuance of the performance that had earned Team One their last win. Her body responded almost automatically, and for a moment, she felt a glimmer of control, a whisper of confidence she hadn't felt since the battle with Daika began.
But the confidence was fragile, like glass teetering on the edge of a table. One word, one look, one touch from Daika, and it could shatter completely.
Rika's gaze drifted to the mirror. She studied her own reflection, searching for the girl she had been before the storm of Daika's presence, the girl who had wanted to shine on stage for her own sake. The girl who had trained in sweat, in pain, in tears, all to claim her dreams.
And beneath the tension, the fear, and the turmoil, she found it. That spark. That stubborn, defiant flame that refused to be consumed.
Rika stood, pulling herself straight, shoulders back, chin lifted. She wasn't powerless. She wasn't broken. Not yet.
Daika may have entered her dorm, tested her, provoked her, even cornered her, but Rika had survived. She would continue to survive. And on that stage, when the lights blazed and the crowd screamed, she would reclaim herself, body, mind, and spirit.
She exhaled, slow and steady, letting the tension seep from her muscles, letting her resolve solidify. The next battle wasn't just about performance. It was about control. About choice. About standing tall in the face of everything that sought to bend her.
Rika grabbed her bag, double-checked her gear, and allowed herself a small, private nod. I'm ready.
Not for Daika. Not for the crowd. Not for anyone else.
For herself.
And that, she realized, made all the difference.