Irene's POV
The sharp trill of her alarm clock broke the silence of Irene's room. She groaned softly, rolling onto her side, her hand fumbling for the button before finally slapping it silent. For a moment, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind still foggy with sleep. But the light sneaking in through her curtains reminded her that another school day at Westbrook Academy was waiting.
Dragging herself out of bed, Irene shuffled into the bathroom. The cold splash of water on her face made her blink awake. She tied her hair into a loose ponytail, brushed her teeth, and then changed into her crisp uniform. Standing in front of the mirror, she caught her own reflection and sighed. Something about her eyes seemed different lately—like she was carrying a secret she didn't even know.
The smell of breakfast drifted upstairs, coaxing her out of her thoughts.
When she came down, her mother, Angel, was already setting plates on the table. "Good morning, sweetheart," Angel said, smiling warmly though there was that tiredness in her eyes Irene had grown too used to.
"Morning, Mom," Irene replied, sliding into her seat.
Her father, seated at the end of the table, lowered his newspaper and grinned at her. "Well, well, if it isn't Westbrook's top student," he teased. "Ready to impress your teachers again today?"
"Dad…" Irene chuckled, embarrassed. "I'm not the top student."
"You could be," Angel interjected, placing scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. "You're brilliant, Irene. Don't sell yourself short."
Her father leaned in, wagging his fork. "And don't forget—boys are going to notice. You've got to stay focused."
"Dad!" Irene blushed, stabbing her eggs a little too quickly.
He laughed, satisfied with her reaction, while Angel shot him a playful glare. For a brief moment, the kitchen felt like the safest place in the world—warm, familiar, untouched by secrets or shadows.
When Irene finished, she slung her bag over her shoulder and kissed both parents goodbye before heading out to catch the bus.
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The ride to school was the usual chatter. Some students leaned against the windows, earbuds in, lost in their music. Others whispered about the chemistry project presentations scheduled for later that morning. Irene caught bits of conversations—her name, Adrian's name—but she quickly looked away, pretending not to hear.
Sliding into a seat near the middle of the bus, she pulled out her notebook. She tried to review her notes for English class, but her thoughts kept slipping elsewhere. Flashes of Adrian's quiet, unreadable expression during dinner at the Blackwood mansion returned to her. Why did his presence unsettle her so much? And yet… why did it feel like she wanted to be near him, too?
By the time the bus rolled into Westbrook Academy's parking lot, she was already restless.
---
The morning classes passed in a blur—math, biology—though Irene did her best to focus. Finally, the bell for English rang, and she found herself walking into her favorite classroom.
Mrs. Hampton, their English teacher, stood at the front, adjusting her glasses. "Today," she announced, "we're diving into Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. I expect thoughtful analysis, not just giggles about star-crossed lovers."
The class groaned collectively, but Irene secretly smiled. She'd always liked Shakespeare—the hidden meanings, the emotions wrapped in poetry. She took her usual seat by the window and opened her copy of the play.
As Mrs. Hampton read aloud, Irene glanced around the room. Anna was a few rows ahead, already jotting down notes. Elsa, on the other hand, leaned lazily in her chair, twirling her pen, her eyes darting across the room as if she wasn't really listening. Irene quickly looked down at her book, forcing herself not to care.
But even in English class, Adrian wasn't far from her mind. She remembered how he had leaned back during dinner, almost silent, yet his presence filled the room. She could still hear his voice from their project discussions, low and steady, guiding her through the parts she struggled with.
Mr. Thompson voice snapped her back. "Irene, would you mind reading Juliet's lines?"
Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded, standing and holding her book. As she read, the words felt heavier than she expected:
"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!"
The classroom seemed to fade for a moment, and Irene's chest tightened. Why did those words echo so strongly inside her? She shook the thought away and sat down quickly.
---
Adrian's POV
Adrian sat in the back corner of his English class, the sunlight cutting across his desk in sharp angles. His book lay open in front of him, but his eyes weren't really following the text. His wolf had been whispering to him since dawn, restless and persistent.
"She's ours."
The voice curled in the back of his mind like smoke, smug and heavy.
Adrian gritted his teeth, shifting in his seat. Not this again, he thought.
"Don't push her away this time," the wolf urged, voice low, almost coaxing. "You saw the way she looked at us during the project… she's drawn to us."
Adrian clenched his pen so tightly the tip snapped. He tossed it aside before anyone noticed. His wolf's insistence was dangerous—dangerous for Irene, dangerous for his family. If she got too close, she might learn what he was. And if she knew, then she'd either run… or worse.
But the wolf didn't care about the risks. "She's different," it whispered. "She makes the silence less sharp. The pull isn't just instinct—it's fate."
Adrian dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to focus on Mrs. Hampton's voice as she paced at the front of the classroom.
When Irene's name was called to read Juliet's lines, Adrian felt every nerve in his body snap to attention. He didn't even mean to look at her, but his head turned on its own. Her voice was steady but soft, carrying the weight of words that seemed to echo far beyond the classroom.
"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!"
The wolf rumbled inside him, pleased. "Hear that? She feels it too. The bond. The conflict. She doesn't know why, but she knows."
Adrian's chest tightened. He forced his gaze back to his book, his jaw locked. He couldn't let himself believe in things like fate. Fate had never been kind to his kind.
---
When the bell finally rang, he exhaled in relief. He packed his things slower than usual, waiting until most of the class had filtered out. But of course, Irene lingered by her desk, gathering her books with careful precision. Elsa brushed past her, shoulder bumping hers deliberately, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass.
Adrian caught it, and his wolf growled low in his head. "That one's a snake. She'll strike when you least expect it."
Adrian didn't need the reminder. He'd seen the calculating gleam in Elsa's eyes more than once.
As he left the classroom, his gaze flicked back to Irene just once. She was tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, unaware of the storm she was caught in the middle of. He forced himself to look away.
But deep down, even as he walked into the hallway, the wolf's words stayed with him.
"Don't push her away. She belongs here—with us."
And for the first time in a long time, Adrian didn't know if he wanted to argue.
---
Elsa's POV
Elsa leaned against the wall outside the English classroom, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she adjusted the strap of her bag. She had taken her time leaving on purpose, curious to see what would play out between Irene and Adrian.
And she wasn't disappointed.
Adrian might have thought he was subtle, but Elsa caught the way his gaze lingered on Irene during the reading, the way his pen snapped in his hand like it had betrayed his thoughts. He was unraveling—and Irene was the thread tugging at the seams.
A smile curled at Elsa's lips. She had been raised to notice weaknesses. And this? This was golden.
As Irene stepped into the hallway, Anna at her side, Elsa fell into step just a little behind them. She moved quietly, listening to the rhythm of their voices, watching the way Irene tilted her head when Anna whispered something. Her laughter was soft, genuine.
Elsa's jaw tightened. Genuine laughter was such a fragile thing, so easily broken.
Her mind drifted back—
---
It was a memory of a dimly lit room, the scent of leather-bound books and ink heavy in the air. Her father's voice was sharp, instructive, cutting into her like a blade that both hurt and strengthened.
"Power doesn't always roar, Elsa. Sometimes it whispers. You don't have to strike first. You wait. You let them fall into their own trap. Then, when they're most vulnerable, you remind them you were watching the whole time."
Her mother had leaned closer then, her smile delicate and cruel. "And when you strike, darling, make it clean. Make it look as if it was always their fault. That way, no one sees the blood on your hands."
Elsa had nodded, absorbing every word like scripture.
---
Now, watching Adrian and Irene draw closer, those lessons sharpened inside her like glass. She wouldn't rush this. She would let them build their little world of trust and affection, let them cling to one another as though it meant safety. And when they finally fell—when they were fully entangled—she would be there to pull the rug out from beneath them.
Patience. That was the art of it.
She glanced at Irene's back, her eyes glittering. You won't even see it coming.
---
Elsa adjusted her books, falling back slightly so that she wouldn't be noticed. There would be plenty of time. For now, she'd play the part of the quiet observer, the harmless friend in the background.
But inside, every step was already a calculation.
---
Anna's POV
Anna swung her bag over her shoulder as she walked beside Irene, talking about the most recent assignment their business teacher had given. Numbers and profit margins weren't Irene's favorite subject, but Anna's enthusiasm made it sound lighter than it was.
"…and then, if you calculate the return rate, it's actually less complicated than it looks," Anna said, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.
Irene laughed softly. "You know, you make it sound like business is…fun."
Anna grinned. "It is! At least for me. You just need to find what clicks. Everyone has that one subject where things don't feel like work." She glanced sideways at Irene. "For you, I think it's English. You come alive in there."
Irene's cheeks warmed, though she quickly tried to hide it. Anna always had a way of noticing little details that others overlooked.
They passed under the canopy of trees near the courtyard, the sunlight flickering through leaves, painting shifting patterns on the ground. The school felt unusually alive today—students scattered across benches, some studying, others gossiping.
But what Anna noticed most wasn't the hum of student life. It was the way Adrian hovered a few steps behind them. Not too close, not too far. His presence was like a shadow Irene didn't know how to shake.
Anna caught Irene stealing a glance back, her steps faltering for just a heartbeat before she quickly looked away. Adrian didn't say anything, but his eyes lingered with a kind of quiet intensity Anna couldn't ignore.
Her smile dimmed slightly.
She wanted to trust Adrian—he had never done anything to her personally. But there was something about the way he watched Irene, something heavy, protective, almost…possessive. And the way Irene responded, trying not to notice but clearly noticing, unsettled her.
Anna didn't voice it, though. She believed in giving people a chance, in not jumping to conclusions.
Instead, she tightened her grip on Irene's arm playfully and said, "You know, we should hang out this weekend. No projects, no pressure. Just us. Maybe a little shopping? My mom swears I need to stop buying books and start buying dresses."
Irene giggled. "She might be right."
Anna pretended to look offended. "Excuse me? Books are timeless. Dresses go out of fashion in months."
Their laughter mingled, easy and light, cutting through the strange tension trailing them.
Yet, deep down, Anna's mind wasn't quiet. She noticed Elsa too—hovering just far enough to look innocent, but close enough to listen.
Anna sighed inwardly. Something's brewing here. I just hope Irene doesn't get caught in the middle of it.
---
Irene's POV
The final bell rang, and I packed up my books with a deep sigh of relief. My back ached from sitting all day, but the thought of heading home made everything lighter.
Anna caught up to me first, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. "Walk home together?"
I grinned back. "Of course."
Just as we stepped out of the classroom, Elsa joined us. She didn't say much—just adjusted her bag and fell in step on my other side, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The late-afternoon sun painted the streets golden as we slipped out through the school gates. The three of us moved with the steady stream of students heading home, our footsteps falling into rhythm.
Anna kept the conversation lively, going on about her business class and how half her group thought "revenue" was the same thing as "profit." I laughed at her dramatics, shaking my head as she mimicked their confused faces.
Elsa listened quietly, smiling now and then, but not interrupting. It was nice, really—like everything was normal. I didn't sense anything strange about her being with us.
I joined in Anna's jokes, telling her about how our English teacher nearly tripped over a pile of books during class earlier, which sent us into another round of laughter.
The walk stretched on in an easy rhythm. The neighborhood was alive with familiar sounds—kids riding bikes, the distant hum of traffic, a dog barking behind a fence.
Anna nudged me with her elbow. "You've been smiling a lot today. You're in a good mood, huh?"
I laughed softly. "I guess I am. Maybe it's just the weather. Feels like everything's lighter."
We continued walking, talking about silly little things—weekend plans, new songs we liked, even what snacks we'd grab if we stopped at the corner store. It felt…ordinary. The kind of ordinary I'd started to treasure.
By the time we reached the point where our paths would split, I felt tired but content. School was behind me for the day, my friends were beside me, and home was just around the corner.
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