The morning bell clanged across the courtyard, sharp enough to rattle bones. Freshers spilled into the square, half-asleep, half-starving. I clutched my bag tighter, wishing I could melt into the crowd.
"In line," a professor barked. His cloak swirled as he paced before us, scrolls tucked under his arm. "Dorm assignments. Remember—your room is your sanctuary. Guard it, or lose it."
Murmurs rippled through the lines.
I scanned the students around me. Most looked confident, smug even. They'd grown up in strong packs, already shifted, already trained. Then there was me—Aria Blackwell, seventeen, wolfless, a mistake waiting to be exposed.
The professor began reading names. One by one, students were dismissed with keys in hand.
"Aria Blackwell," he called.
I stiffened. Dozens of eyes turned my way.
"Yes," I said, stepping forward.
He handed me a brass key etched with a crescent. "Room 11. East Wing." His gaze lingered, sharp. "Don't waste it."
I nodded quickly, tucking the key into my palm.
"Aria!" a voice hissed.
I turned. A girl squeezed out of the line, practically bouncing to my side. Chestnut hair in a messy braid, freckles, eyes too wide to hide curiosity. She grinned. "Hi. I'm Tessa. Room 12. That's right next to yours."
I blinked at her sudden friendliness. "Uh… hi."
"Good. You don't look like the kind who snores. We'll survive," she whispered, then winked.
A laugh almost escaped me. Almost.
"Next!" the professor barked, breaking the moment.
---
The courtyard buzzed as keys clinked and students paired off. That's when she arrived.
Click. Clack. Heels on stone.
The crowd parted without a word.
She strutted forward, hair glossy black, nails sharp crimson, lips painted like blood. Every angle of her screamed perfection—or at least the kind polished in mirrors for hours.
"Ivy LaRoux," she announced before the professor even read her name.
The professor arched a brow but handed her a key anyway. "Room 9. North Wing."
Ivy twirled the key between her fingers like it was jewelry, not a tool. Her gaze swept the crowd, slow, deliberate. Then it landed on me.
Her lips curved. Not in a smile—something sharper.
"Oh," she purred. "So this is the little stray who caught their attention."
Heat crawled up my neck. "What are you talking about?"
Ivy's laugh tinkled, sweet but hollow. "Please. Everyone saw the way the cardinal alphas looked at you yesterday. Rylan. Kael. Darius. Lucian. Four gods of this academy—and they actually glanced your way." She leaned closer, perfume thick as smoke. "Don't get comfortable. They don't mate with nobodies."
Tessa bristled beside me. "Leave her alone."
Ivy's eyes flicked over her, dismissing her in a heartbeat. "Cute. A sidekick." She straightened, blowing a strand of hair off her flawless cheek. "Enjoy your little room, Blackwell. Before someone better deserves it."
She swayed off, heels clicking again, crowd swallowing her like adoration itself.
I exhaled slowly, fists clenched.
Tessa muttered, "And there's our queen bee."
"Beyoncé wannabe," I said under my breath.
Tessa snorted. "Exactly."
---
"Dismissed," the professor barked.
The crowd scattered, keys flashing in the morning light. I glanced up at the academy balconies. Four figures leaned there, silent, watching.
Rylan's arms crossed. Kael's smirk faint. Darius's stare unreadable. Lucian's grin… infuriating.
Their eyes locked on me. Again.
My key felt heavy in my palm.
"Come on," Tessa said, tugging my sleeve. "Let's see our rooms before someone else claims them."
We hurried toward the East Wing, stone corridors stretching like a maze. My chest tightened with every step.
A dorm was supposed to be safe. Mine already felt like a cage.
And the alphas weren't finished with me.
I could feel it.