The clang of a bell tore through the dormitory before dawn. Aria jolted upright, heart hammering, the bond still tugging at her chest like a chain wound too tight. She hadn't slept, just drifted in and out, haunted by Kaelen's shadow and the whispers she'd overheard.
Liora groaned, throwing a pillow over her head. "Do they always wake wolves this early? Aren't we supposed to be creatures of the night?"
Aria dragged herself up, pulling on the academy's training uniform: black tunic, fitted trousers, boots made for running and bleeding. The crest she didn't have burned like a hole in the fabric. She tugged her cloak tighter, though it did little to hide the thrum in her veins.
By the time they reached the training yard, the sky was bruised violet with dawn. The arena spread wide, a sand-ring ringed by stone benches, iron torches still smoldering from the night before. Heirs clustered in groups, laughter sharp, eyes sharper.
At the far end, the head trainer stood waiting, a broad, scarred wolf with one ear missing and a voice that cut through the morning fog.
"You're here because you think you're heirs. Blood and titles mean nothing in this yard. Only strength decides who eats, and who gets eaten." His gaze swept over them, hard and unyielding. "Every day you'll face trials. Fail, and you'll be broken. Survive, and maybe you'll be worth leading a pack."
The heirs muttered, some eager, some wary. Aria kept her hood low, pulse quickening. Trials. As if the academy wasn't already a battlefield.
The trainer barked, "Pairs! Into the ring!"
One by one, heirs were called, stepping into the sand to face each other while the rest watched. Dominance clashed in every blow, every growl, the air thick with wolf-power.
Aria stood rigid at the edge, every name called tightening the knot in her stomach. She prayed to be overlooked, to vanish into the crowd. But deep down, she knew the academy never let prey hide for long.
And with the bond burning in her chest, she was already marked.
The first pair lunged at each other before the trainer even finished barking their names. Sand sprayed as claws tore through the air, their growls raw and guttural. Neither shifted fully, but hints of wolf rippled beneath their skin, fangs lengthening, eyes glowing, voices breaking into snarls.
The heirs around the ring jeered and cheered, calling for blood.
Aria's stomach knotted tighter with each clash. This wasn't practice; it was dominance theater. Every strike was meant to humiliate, to establish who stood higher on the invisible ladder.
One boy was slammed flat on his back, chest heaving, before the trainer called the fight. "Pathetic. Out of the ring!"
The victor lifted his chin high, soaking in the approval of the crowd. Aria lowered her gaze quickly, afraid his eyes might catch hers.
More names were called. More heirs fought. Some matches ended quickly, one-sided. Others were dragged, bloody and brutal, until the trainer stepped in.
Beside her, Liora whispered, "See the pattern?"
Aria risked a glance. "Pattern?"
"They're testing the weak first. Picking off easy prey. The ones who fall now will never climb back up."
Aria's pulse quickened. She already knew where they would place her, at the bottom.
Her eyes darted to Kaelen across the yard. He leaned against a pillar, arms folded, watching the ring with cool detachment. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, but his presence bent the space around him. The other heirs kept their distance, their fights sharper when they noticed his gaze.
And then his eyes shifted.
Straight to her.
Aria froze, breath catching. The bond thrummed in her chest, alive, reminding her she couldn't slip beneath notice. Not with him watching.
The trainer's voice roared again. "Next, " He scanned the gathered heirs, pausing just long enough to let the tension bite. His eyes lingered on Aria's hood.
Her throat went dry.
"…Vale!"
The name rang across the yard like a sentence.
Aria's heart hammered. She stepped forward, boots sinking into the sand. Every stare followed, sharp as teeth.
She was prey in the ring. And everyone wanted to see if she would bleed.
The trainer's mouth curled into something close to a smirk. "Vale… against Calder of Ironfang."
A ripple of laughter coursed through the heirs. Aria stiffened. She didn't know Calder, but the name carried weight, Ironfang. A brutal pack, infamous for breeding warriors who fought until their knuckles split and their teeth broke.
A boy shouldered his way into the ring, tall, broad, smirking like the outcome was already carved into stone. His eyes gleamed amber-gold, sharp with the promise of violence.
"Didn't think they let strays play in our yard," Calder drawled, circling her like a wolf testing a lamb's legs. "Guess every circus needs a joke."
The heirs laughed, some too eagerly, some with nervous glances toward Kaelen's corner. Aria kept her shoulders steady, even as her pulse pounded against her ribs.
She raised her chin just enough to meet Calder's gaze. "Then let's see if the joke's on you."
His grin widened. "I like it when prey talks back."
The trainer barked, "Fight!"
Calder lunged without hesitation. His fist slashed toward her head, fast, brutal. Aria ducked instinctively, the blow whistling past her ear. Sand sprayed under her boots as she sidestepped, every nerve screaming.
She couldn't outmuscle him. Not without revealing the full strength buried in her bloodline. She had to survive, just enough to walk away without suspicion.
Calder laughed, pivoting. "Quick feet. Won't save you." He struck again, harder this time, a backhand meant to throw her across the sand. She blocked with her forearm, the impact jolting down to her spine.
Pain seared, but she stayed upright.
"Lucky," someone muttered from the benches.
"Not luck," Liora whispered fiercely from the sidelines.
Aria forced her breathing steady, watching his rhythm, his swagger. He fought to dominate, to humiliate, not to win clean. That was his weakness, his pride.
Calder lunged again, aiming low. She twisted, his hand grazing her cloak, tearing it loose. Gasps erupted from the crowd as her hood fell back.
Her face was bare now.
No more shadows.
Calder's grin sharpened. "Pretty little stray." He feinted left, then slammed his shoulder into her ribs, sending her staggering. The crowd roared, bloodthirsty.
Aria clenched her fists, wolf stirring beneath her skin. If she let go even a little, the power would surge out, too much, too royal.
And Kaelen was still watching.
Calder's shoulder still burned in her ribs, the ache spreading with every shallow breath. The crowd wanted more. Their jeers rained down like stones.
"Get up, Vale!"
"Show us what you're made of, if it's anything!"
Aria staggered but didn't fall. She dug her boots into the sand, forcing air into her lungs. Every instinct screamed to unleash, to let her wolf tear through this arrogant brute and silence the laughter.
But she couldn't. She wasn't just a stray. She was the last Vale. One slip, one surge of Alpha-born power, and the entire academy would smell the truth on her skin.
Calder circled again, his grin feral. "What's wrong, little lamb? All bark, no bite?" He lunged, his hand closing around her arm like an iron band. He twisted, shoving her to her knees.
The world narrowed. Pain spiked. The crowd howled.
And then, her wolf surged.
Her vision sharpened until every grain of sand was etched in silver light. Calder's heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud and vulnerable. Her nails lengthened, tips glinting like claws. A growl crawled up her throat, low and lethal.
Calder's smirk faltered for the first time. "What?"
Aria slammed her elbow back into his ribs. He stumbled, breath hissing. She spun, nearly losing control as her body moved with a speed that wasn't supposed to belong to a nobody.
The heirs erupted, shocked murmurs slicing through the air.
Aria froze, chest heaving, hands trembling as the wolf pressed harder, demanding release. Her bloodline screamed to dominate, to end this charade.
And Kaelen,
He hadn't moved from his post, but his eyes were fixed on her, sharp as blades, as though he could see every crack in her disguise.
Her opponent straightened, rage twisting his features. "You think you can make me look like a fool?" Calder roared, charging again, faster, angrier.
Aria braced herself, biting down the growl that wanted to rip free. If she unleashed her wolf fully, she'd expose everything. If she didn't, Calder might break her in front of them all.
The sand blurred under his steps, his fist arcing toward her face,
And this time, she couldn't hold back the snarl that tore from her throat.
Calder's fist came down like a hammer. Aria twisted at the last second, the blow grazing her jaw instead of breaking it. Pain flashed white-hot, copper stinging her tongue. The crowd roared with savage delight.
He didn't let up. A knee drove into her side, and the sand rushed up to meet her. The laughter sharpened, crueler now. Calder loomed over her, panting, wild-eyed.
"Stay down, lamb," he snarled, drawing his arm back for the final strike. "You don't belong here."
Something inside Aria cracked. Her wolf clawed higher, vision rimmed with silver. She could end this, one swipe, one burst of true strength, and Calder would never rise again.
But before she could decide, another presence hit the yard.
It wasn't movement at first. It was pressure.
A weight like a storm front crashed down, invisible but suffocating, bending every heir in the arena to stillness. The jeers died mid-breath, replaced by silence sharp enough to cut.
Kaelen Draven had moved.
He strode into the ring without a word, his shadow stretching across the sand. Calder froze, fist still cocked, trembling under the sheer force rolling off him. The air itself seemed to bow, thick with dominance.
"Enough."
Just one word, low and cold, and Calder's knees nearly buckled.
Kaelen didn't look at him again. His gaze slid past, locking on Aria as she pushed herself shakily upright. Those silver-flecked eyes pierced her, searching, dissecting, as if he'd seen the flash of her wolf and was deciding what it meant.
The trainer opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when Kaelen's aura pressed harder. No one challenged the Alpha Prince, not here. Not anywhere.
Kaelen's voice cut through the silence. "This one is mine."
The words rang out like an edict. Every heir stiffened, murmurs sparking but quickly dying under his gaze. The bond thrummed between them, alive and undeniable, sealing his declaration with a truth only she could feel.
Aria's breath caught, dread coiling tight in her chest. He'd just painted a target on her back, branding her in front of them all.
And Kaelen, calm, ruthless Kaelen, didn't flinch.
The crowd was silent, waiting, the sand still unsettled around them.
Aria realized the trials weren't about proving herself anymore.
They were about surviving him.