Windsor's POV
I couldn't stop staring at Zion's face as the applause finally died down. The realization that I'd literally thrown myself at the most powerful Alpha in the school made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"This year marks a historic moment," Headmaster Sinclair continued, his voice cutting through my mortification. "For the first time in decades, all four True Alphas are attending Apex simultaneously. This represents not just academic excellence, but the future leadership of Valoria itself."
Pauline grabbed my arm, her excitement barely contained. "Do you understand what this means?" she whispered urgently. "All four True families are represented here. The Callahans from the North, the Wrenmoors from the South, the Rues from the East, and the Blakes from the West."
I tried to focus on her words instead of the way Zion stood so still on stage while the other Alphas basked in the attention. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"The political implications are huge," Pauline continued. "These four will basically rule Valoria one day. Having them all here means Apex will be the center of every major decision for years to come."
Sinclair raised his hand for silence, and the crowd immediately complied. "Now, to commemorate this momentous occasion and to welcome all our new students, I'm pleased to award fifty points to every student in attendance tonight."
The hall erupted in cheers and applause. Students were high-fiving and celebrating like they'd just won the lottery.
I clapped politely, but I had no idea what I was celebrating.
"Fifty points each?" I whispered to Pauline. "Is that good?"
She looked at me like I'd asked if water was wet. "Windsor, points are everything here. They determine your housing, your meal plans, your privileges, even your class schedules. Fifty points is a generous start, but trust me, you'll need way more than that to survive."
My stomach dropped. Another system I didn't understand, another way I was already behind.
"How do you earn more points?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"That's a long conversation," Pauline said as Sinclair dismissed the assembly. "Come on, let's grab lunch and I'll explain everything."
The crowd began to disperse, students chattering excitedly about their point windfall. I followed Pauline as she navigated through the masses, trying not to get trampled by the more aggressive students pushing toward the exits.
"There are two cafeterias," Pauline explained as we walked down a marble-lined hallway. "Onyx and the common dining hall. Onyx is for students with high point balances or family wealth. Amazing food, better seating, access to private study rooms."
We passed an elegant set of double doors with ornate gold handles. Through the glass, I could see students dining on what looked like restaurant-quality meals served on actual china.
"That's Onyx," Pauline said, noticing my stare. "Don't even think about it. The entry fee alone would wipe out your entire point balance."
We continued down the hallway to a much more basic entrance. The common dining hall was exactly what it sounded like - institutional tables, fluorescent lighting, and the distinct smell of cafeteria food.
"This is more our speed," Pauline said cheerfully, grabbing a plastic tray.
I picked up my own tray and followed her through the line. The food wasn't terrible, but it was clearly mass-produced. Basic sandwiches, simple salads, and what looked like yesterday's soup.
We found seats at a table near the back, and Pauline immediately launched into her explanation.
"The point system controls everything," she said, unwrapping her sandwich. "You earn points through academic achievement, faction loyalty, social connections, and other activities."
"What kind of other activities?"
Pauline's expression grew uncomfortable. "Well, that's where things get complicated. Let's just say the school rewards students who demonstrate social skills and relationship building."
Something in her tone made my skin crawl, but before I could ask for clarification, my bladder reminded me I'd been sitting in that assembly for hours.
"I need to find a restroom," I said, standing up.
"There's one right down the hall," Pauline pointed toward the main corridor.
I walked back the way we'd come, but when I reached the restroom Pauline had mentioned, yellow caution tape blocked the entrance. A handwritten sign read "Under Construction - Use Alternative Facilities."
Great. I looked around, trying to remember if I'd seen another restroom. The only one I could think of was back near the Onyx hall.
I retraced my steps, my need becoming more urgent with each passing minute. The hallway near Onyx was quieter, more luxurious, with actual artwork on the walls instead of motivational posters.
The restroom was thankfully unoccupied and much nicer than anything in the common areas. Real mirrors, actual soap dispensers, and paper towels that weren't sandpaper.
When I finished and pushed open the door to leave, I froze.
Weston was standing not fifteen feet away, pressed against the wall opposite the Onyx entrance. His hands were tangled in some girl's long brown hair, and they were kissing with the kind of intensity that made my stomach lurch.
She was gorgeous, of course. Tall, curvy, with the kind of effortless beauty that made other girls hate themselves. Her hands were roaming over Weston's chest like she owned him.
Maybe she did now.
Panic shot through me like electricity. I couldn't let him see me. I couldn't handle another confrontation, another reminder of how easily he'd replaced me.
I spotted a door slightly ajar just a few steps to my left. Without thinking, I darted toward it and slipped inside, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I pressed my back against it, trying to catch my breath. The panic attack I'd been fighting all day threatened to overwhelm me.
"Are you here for a session?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. The voice was smooth, cultured, and definitely male.
I spun around to find myself face-to-face with Gideon Ashworth, the Alpha of the East faction. He was even more intimidating up close, with sharp features and those calculating dark eyes behind his glasses.
He wasn't alone.
A blonde girl was practically draped over him, her lips pressed to his neck in a way that made my cheeks burn. Her hands were everywhere, and she seemed completely unbothered by my sudden appearance.
That's when I realized where I was.
The urinals along the wall made it very clear I'd just barged into the men's restroom.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, backing toward the door. "I didn't mean to—"
"Are you next on my waitlist?" Gideon asked, his tone completely casual as the blonde continued her assault on his neck.
"Your what?"
He tilted his head slightly, studying me with the same expression someone might use to examine an interesting insect.
"My waitlist," he repeated slowly, like I was particularly dense. "Are you scheduled for a session, or are you just lost?"