The Last Wildcard

CHAPTER ONE

The Wildcard

The helicopter blades cut through the fog, their thunder vibrating straight into Riven Ashcroft’s ribs. She kept her hands flat on her thighs, fingers steady by force of will, as the island rose beneath them. From above, Elysian Isle looked like it was lifted from a luxury travel feed, with emerald canopy, white beaches, a ring of water so still it seemed painted on. Paradise curated for beautiful lies. Riven didn’t trust still things.

The pilot never turned to look at her. The headset pressed tight over her ears crackled with static, then a smooth voice slid through. “Contestants, welcome to Elysian Isle.”

As if the name could soften what everyone knew this place really was.

The helicopter descended onto a circular landing pad carved from obsidian stone. Floating lenses drifted into position the moment the skids touched down, red lights blinking alive in unison. The broadcast was already live. Somewhere beyond the clouds, millions of eyes were turning toward her.

The doors slid open. Heat rolled in, thick and humid, carrying the scent of wildflowers and blood beneath it. Riven stepped out last.

The instant her boots met the stone, the island reacted. Not with spectacle but with a subtle tightening, like a breath drawn too deep. The wind stuttered. The jungle went unnaturally quiet. Somewhere far away, something howled, then cut off mid cry. Riven ignored it. She lifted her chin and walked forward.

The dress production had given her was black, sleeveless, slit high enough to be deliberate. Elegant enough to make heads turn. She felt every stare snap toward her, felt the shift ripple through the gathered contestants. Wolves with eyes too bright. Witches with sigils faint beneath their skin. Shifters coiled tight with violence. Fae smiling without warmth. Conversations died as she approached, attention narrowing on her. 

A notification ticker flared briefly across one of the floating screens.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

wildwatcher88: Wait—who is she? New girl alert.

moonhowl: She’s human?? No way they’re serious.

darkhearts: The black dress is a choice though…

fangirl_kay: Someone check her pulse, she looks too calm for this mess.

A woman in crimson stepped forward, her heels clicking against stone. Vivian Drake, Darling Supernatural’s beloved host, her beauty honed to a sharp edge. Her smile bloomed wide as the cameras drifted closer. “Welcome, besties,” Vivian purred. “Another season begins.”

Applause broke out on cue. Some genuine, some hungry, some calculated. Vivian’s gaze slid to Riven and lingered a fraction too long, like she was appraising merchandise. “And as promised,” she continued, “we have a surprise.”

The murmur that followed had a cutting edge to it. Riven felt a prickle crawl under her skin.

“Every season, we introduce a wildcard,” Vivian said. “Someone who doesn’t quite fit the rules.” The cameras pivoted, framing Riven from every angle. “This season, we went further. Meet Riven Ashcroft.”

There was a pause. The kind the editors loved.

“A human.”

The word detonated quietly. Shock rippled through the semicircle. Riven kept her face blank even as the whispers broke loose.

“A human?”

“She won’t last a night.”

“This is a stunt.”

“Who thought this was funny?”

The live feed spiked.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

aboc: HUMAN??? This show is insane this year.

princess: She’s about to get eaten alive…

kay: Lowkey rooting for her. Underdog energy hits different.

derah: Why is the wolf staring at her like that??

Riven felt it then, a particular gaze that didn’t slide away. She turned and met eyes the color of molten gold.

He stood slightly apart from the others, tall, broad shouldered, his presence bending the space around him as if the world made room by instinct. His stare wasn’t just hostile; it was sharp, closer to recognition, as though her existence offended him on a personal level. His nostrils flared, jaw tightening, eyes raking over her like he was searching for a scent that didn’t belong.

Something in her chest tightened in response. 

He was Jace Draven, though she didn’t know his name yet. Alpha in every line of him. Power wrapped in muscle and restraint. His lip curled, the faintest tell of anger, and the air between them seemed to thicken, charged and volatile. For one strange heartbeat, the noise of the set dulled. It felt as though the island itself leaned in to watch them look at each other.

[Live Stream Comment Section | Landing Pad – Cam 01]

moonhowl: The wolf guy is NOT happy.

fangirl_kay: Why do I feel tension?? It’s been two seconds.

darkhearts: Enemies to lovers calling it now 

wildwatcher88: The way he’s staring at her?? Sir, blink.

Vivian clapped once, breaking the moment. “Our human wildcard,” she announced brightly. “No magic. No faction. No protection.”

The words settled into Riven’s bones like cold.

“She’s here to compete like everyone else,” Vivian went on. “To survive the trials, to form bonds, to win.”

To survive. The jungle beyond the pavilion shifted, leaves whispering against one another. Stone markers along the path pulsed faintly, veins of light crawling like something alive beneath the surface. The gates groaned open.

“The island awaits,” Vivian said, smile sharpening. “And remember… everyone is watching.”

The contestants began to move, alliances forming in murmured clusters. Riven stayed still for half a second longer. The obsidian beneath her feet thrummed, a low vibration she felt more than heard. She told herself it was nerves.

As she stepped toward the jungle, she felt Jace’s gaze follow her. Not like prey. Like a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve.

The cameras tracked her every step. The island shifted again.