"The elders looked at me as if I were a puzzle to be solved."
The Headmaster's chambers were colder than the night outside, and it wasn't just the winter air seeping through the ancient stone walls. This was the kind of cold that came from centuries of power, from decisions that had shaped the fate of entire packs. The room itself seemed to breathe with authority-tall windows stretched toward the star-scattered sky, their glass so old it warped the moonlight into strange patterns across the floor.
A massive oak table dominated the space, its surface polished to a mirror shine by decades of elbows and forearms, of treaties signed and alliances broken. The wood was so dark it looked almost black in the candlelight, carved with intricate wolf heads at each corner, their eyes set with amber stones that seemed to watch everything that transpired here.
Around the table sat the Academy's Council of Elders-five wolves whose combined age probably exceeded three centuries. Their human forms were deceptively fragile-looking, but I could feel the weight of their wolves pressing against the air like a physical force. Alpha energy, old and settled and absolutely uncompromising.
Elder Thorne sat to the left, his silver hair cropped close to his skull, ice-blue eyes that missed nothing. His fingers were steepled before him, and I caught the faint scent of pine and winter storms clinging to his skin-a northern pack Alpha who'd given up his territory to serve the Academy.
Beside him, Elder Vera's dark eyes tracked my every movement. Her black hair was streaked with silver, pulled back in a severe bun that emphasized the sharp angles of her cheekbones. She smelled of sage and something else, something wilder-desert winds and scorched earth.
At the head of the table, Headmaster Aldric watched me with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world. His sandy brown hair was going gray at the temples, and his hazel eyes held the kind of wisdom that came from making hard choices for the greater good.
I stood in the center of the room, feeling exposed under their collective gaze. The silence stretched between us like a taut wire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, hackles raised at being surrounded by so much dominant energy.
Elder Thorne was the first to speak. "You released a wolf aura tonight. One that silenced an entire arena full of Alphas and their wolves."
His voice carried the crisp authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. I kept my expression neutral, though my hands wanted to clench into fists.
"Most unusual," Elder Vera added, her tone thoughtful but sharp. "Particularly for someone claiming Bennett blood."
The words hit like a slap. The Bennett name had been dragged through the mud for years-whispers of weakness, of a bloodline gone bad, of rogues and outcasts. I'd carried that shame like a stone in my chest, but I wouldn't let them see how deep it cut.
"A line thought broken," Elder Marcus spoke up from the far end of the table. He was younger than the others, maybe only fifty or so, but his wolf was ancient in its power. "Tainted by association with rogues and... undesirable elements."
The polite euphemism made my stomach churn. They knew. Maybe not everything, but they knew enough to make educated guesses about my family's fall from grace.
"And yet here you stand," Headmaster Aldric said quietly, "demonstrating power that most Alphas would envy."
I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my voice. "I don't claim anything. I simply did what I had to do."
The Elders exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them in the way of wolves who'd known each other for decades. Elder Vera's nostrils flared slightly, testing the air, trying to read the truth in my scent.
"She may not be what we assumed," Elder Thorne murmured, his fingers drumming once against the table surface.
"Perhaps the Bennett blood was never weak at all," Elder Marcus countered. "Or perhaps she carries a lineage we haven't yet identified."
"The question," Elder Vera said, her dark eyes boring into me, "is what other secrets you might be hiding."
The words were a trap, elegantly laid. They wanted me to reveal myself, to spill my story across their table like blood on an altar. But I had learned hard lessons about trust, about giving powerful people ammunition to use against you.
I kept my expression carefully blank, my voice level. "My past isn't what matters here. What matters is that I can stand on my own, with or without a name that means anything to you."
A flash of something-approval? amusement?-crossed the Headmaster's features. "Spoken like a true Alpha."
"Power like yours draws enemies," Elder Thorne said bluntly, leaning forward in his chair. "You must understand that. Tonight's display will have consequences."
It wasn't advice-it was a warning. Maybe even a prophecy. I felt it settle into my bones like ice, the certainty that my life had just become infinitely more complicated.
The scent of unease rippled through the room, mixing with the older smells of leather-bound books and centuries of wolf musk. These weren't just teachers or administrators-they were predators who'd survived long enough to become power brokers, and they were telling me I'd just painted a target on my back.
"Then let them come," I said, and meant it.
The silence that followed was different from before-heavier, more considering. The Elders studied me with new eyes, taking my measure not as a student but as a potential threat or ally. The distinction mattered more than I cared to admit.
Elder Vera's lips curved in what might have been a smile. "Confidence. Good. You'll need it."
My wolf stirred beneath my skin, responding to something in her tone. Not quite approval, but acknowledgment. These wolves had seen students come and go for decades. They knew the difference between bravado and genuine steel.
"The Academy has protocols," Headmaster Aldric said carefully. "Ways to handle... situations that arise from displays of unusual power. We'll be watching, Miss Bennett. For your protection as much as anyone else's."
I nodded once, understanding the subtext. They'd be watching to see if I was an asset or a liability, a future ally or a problem that needed solving. In the world of pack politics, there was rarely a middle ground.
Before anyone could say more, the chamber doors swung open with a resounding thud. An Academy messenger strode in, his formal uniform crisp despite the late hour. He moved with the precise efficiency of someone delivering urgent news, his boots clicking against the stone floor as he approached the table.
"Forgive the interruption, Headmaster," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "But a formal notice has arrived that requires immediate attention."
He extended a sealed scroll toward the head of the table, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins. Even from across the room, I could see the deep crimson wax seal, could make out the raised impression of a family crest I knew all too well.
A raven with spread wings, perched atop a twisted branch.
Gideon's family crest.