The carriage wheels crunched against gravel as the night air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke. Elara pressed her forehead against the cold glass window, staring out at the looming gates that marked the entrance to Bloodfang Academy. Iron wrought into the shape of wolves' fangs pierced the sky, slick with dew, each spike tipped as though ready to drink blood. The gates stood open now, but to her they felt like a mouth, hungry and waiting.
Her pulse quickened. She could hear it ,that low thrum, that beast hidden deep within her chest. For years she had smothered it, forced it down, told herself she wasn't like them. But the closer the carriage drew to the academy, the harder it became to breathe. Something inside her stirred, restless, as if it recognized this place.
"Stop slouching," her aunt hissed beside her. "You're not going to embarrass me on your first night."
Elara sat upright, her knuckles tightening against her skirt. Embarrass her. That was all she was , a responsibility her family couldn't pawn off fast enough. Her father, gone. Her mother, a whispered stain in the pack's history. Now here she was, an orphaned half-blood dumped into the most ruthless academy in the werewolf dominions.
The carriage halted. The driver jumped down, pulling the door open with a grunt.
"Miss Elara Vale." His voice held no warmth, only the kind of curt acknowledgement given to a burden being passed along.
Elara stepped down, boots sinking into the wet soil. The gates towered above her now, and beyond them stretched the academy , black stone walls climbing toward the sky, lanterns glowing like watchful eyes along the parapets. The banners that draped the walls bore the Bloodfang crest: a wolf's skull crowned with thorns.
It was nothing like the modest cottages of her old pack. This place reeked of ambition, of dominance sharpened into cruelty.
Her aunt adjusted her shawl, barely glancing at her. "Keep your head down, Elara. Don't draw attention to yourself. If you anger the wrong wolves here, you won't last a week."
Then, without a backward glance, her aunt turned and climbed back into the carriage. The driver snapped the reins, and the horses carried them away.
Just like that, Elara was alone.
---
A guard in black leathers approached, his face half-hidden by the shadow of his hood. "New transfer?" he muttered, looking her up and down as though appraising a cut of meat.
"Yes," she said, forcing her voice not to tremble.
He snorted. "You won't last."
He swung the gate wider, and she walked through. The air shifted the moment she crossed the threshold ;colder, heavier, pressing against her skin like invisible claws.
The courtyard stretched vast and stony before her. Wolves ; some in human form, others half-shifted with eyes glowing gold or crimson ; lingered in groups, watching her arrival with thinly veiled amusement.
"Fresh meat," someone whispered.
"Another transfer? Pathetic."
"She smells… wrong."
Elara quickened her pace, refusing to meet their eyes. She could feel the heat of their stares burning into her back.
---
Inside the academy, the corridors were a labyrinth of dark arches and flickering torches. Every stone seemed older than time itself, carved with runes that pulsed faintly under the light. The air smelled of ash, leather, and wolf musk.
She clutched the strap of her bag tighter. The academy wasn't just a school. It was a crucible ;a place where the heirs of the most powerful packs were forged into weapons. The weak were crushed. The strong devoured.
And she? She was neither.
---
Her dorm room was tucked away in the east wing. A narrow bed, a cracked mirror, and a single chest awaited her. She unpacked slowly, trying not to think about the journey here, the way her aunt hadn't even bothered with a goodbye.
A knock rattled the door.
When she opened it, a tall boy leaned lazily against the frame, his smirk sharp enough to cut. His hair was raven-dark, his eyes a molten shade of amber that caught the torchlight like fire.
"Well, well," he drawled. "The whispers were true. The transfer finally arrived."
Elara stiffened. "And you are?"
He tilted his head, amused. "Names don't matter yet. What matters is this: you're prey here. Everyone can smell it. Half-blood. Weak." His grin widened. "But maybe you'll be entertaining before you're broken."
He stepped back, giving a mock bow, before sauntering down the hall. His laughter echoed long after he disappeared.
Elara closed the door with trembling hands. Her heart thundered in her chest, but beneath the fear something else stirred ; anger. Defiance.
She wasn't here to be broken.
---
The next morning, the academy gathered in the great hall. Long tables stretched beneath vaulted ceilings, lit by chandeliers dripping with candles. Wolves filled every seat, the air buzzing with energy, dominance, and unspoken challenges.
Elara slid into a corner, trying to go unnoticed. But it was impossible. Whispers rose immediately, circling her like vultures.
Then silence fell.
Four figures entered.
They walked side by side, their presence swallowing the room whole. Each carried a different aura ... power, danger, beauty twisted into cruelty.
The boy from the night before led them. His name echoed on every lip.
Darius Thorne. Heir to the Bloodfang Pack. Alpha in waiting.
Beside him strode Kael Magnus, his expression cold and calculating, every step precise. Valen Rylan followed, wild-eyed, a scar slashing across his jaw like a warning. And at the rear, quiet but no less commanding, was Cassian Gideon, his gaze unreadable, almost gentle ,but not weak.
The hall bent around them. Wolves lowered their eyes, bowed their heads, even as the four ignored them.
They took their seats at the head table, the world revolving effortlessly around them.
Elara's stomach twisted.
So these were the infamous heirs. The predators who ruled Bloodfang Academy with fists, claws, and fear.
And the moment Darius's amber gaze flicked across the hall, landing on her, Elara knew ;prey or not, she had just been noticed.
---
The whispers returned, sharper now, more dangerous.
"Thorne's looking at her."
"She won't last a day."
"Maybe less."
Elara forced herself to lift her chin. If they wanted her to cower, they would be disappointed.
She was prey, yes. But prey could still bare its teeth.
And for the first time in years, she let herself feel it..... that darkness inside, that beast she had smothered so long. It stretched within her chest, a shadow stirring beneath her skin, whispering of blood and moonlight.
Maybe they were right. Maybe she didn't belong here.
But she would make them regret underestimating her.
Even if it killed her.