Chapter 5:
The Hunt Begins
I barely slept that first night.
Sophie snored softly in the bed across from mine, apparently able to find peace despite everything. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw golden ones staring back. Felt phantom breath on my neck. Heard that chorus of howls calling to something primal inside me.
When the morning bell rang at six AM sharp, I was almost grateful for the excuse to stop pretending.
"Rise and shine!" Sophie chirped, already bouncing out of bed. "First day of classes! Aren't you excited?"
"Thrilled," I muttered, dragging myself to the small bathroom attached to our room.
The uniform waiting in our wardrobe was a surprise. I'd expected something traditional, conservative. Instead, it was modern and form-fitting—black pants, a crimson silk shirt, and a black blazer with the academy crest embroidered in silver thread. A wolf and a human, circling each other eternally.
"We look amazing," Sophie gushed, admiring herself in the mirror. "Like we actually belong here."
But that was the point, wasn't it? To make us feel like we belonged, right before reminding us that we didn't.
Breakfast was a quieter affair than dinner. The werewolves mostly ignored us, focused on their own conversations. But I could still feel eyes on me—curious, calculating, hungry.
Our first class was Integration Studies, held in a lecture hall that could have seated two hundred. Only forty seats were filled—twenty humans, twenty werewolves, deliberately interspersed.
I ended up between Jenny and a werewolf boy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. He had bronze skin, dark hair, and the kind of muscle definition that came from genetics, not gym time.
"Good morning, students." The professor was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and absolutely no werewolf markers I could identify. Human? Here? "I'm Professor Martinez, and I'll be guiding you through Integration Studies. This class is designed to bridge the gap between our species, to foster understanding and cooperation."
Someone snorted. The professor ignored it.
"Your first assignment is a partnered project. Human and werewolf pairs, randomly assigned." She pulled out a tablet. "When I call your names, sit together."
She started reading. Jenny got paired with a bubbly werewolf girl who seemed genuinely excited. Sophie got a quiet boy who nodded politely when she introduced herself. Then:
"Aria Blackwood and Zephyr Southwind."
My blood turned to ice.
Zephyr rose from his seat in the back with fluid grace, moving through the crowd like water. He dropped into the seat Jenny had vacated, turning that honey-gold gaze on me.
"Hello, partner," he said, his voice like warm whiskey. "This should be fun."
"The assignment," Professor Martinez continued, "is to spend one week documenting the differences and similarities between your species. You'll share meals, attend each other's specific classes, and produce a joint presentation by Friday."
"Share meals?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Problem, Miss Blackwood?" the professor asked.
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Because this assignment is worth thirty percent of your grade."
Zephyr leaned closer, his scent washing over me—pine and rain and something wild. "Don't look so worried. I don't bite." A pause. "Unless you ask nicely."
Several werewolves laughed. My face burned, but I kept my expression neutral.
The rest of the class was torture. Zephyr didn't speak again, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He radiated heat like a furnace, and every time he shifted, our arms brushed. Each contact sent electricity through my skin that had nothing to do with fear.
When class ended, I tried to escape, but his hand on my wrist stopped me. His touch was gentle but unbreakable.
"We should discuss our project," he said. "Lunch? My table?"
"I don't think—"
"It wasn't really a question." His smile was charming, but his eyes held warning. "noon. Northeast corner of the dining hall. Don't be late."
He released me and vanished into the crowd before I could respond.
The morning's other classes blurred together. Human History (propaganda), Werewolf Culture (more propaganda), and Basic Etiquette (how not to offend your future werewolf masters). But I couldn't focus on any of it. Noon approached like an executioner's axe.
When I entered the dining hall, conversations stopped. Every eye tracked my movement as I walked to the elevated section, to the table where four princes held court.
Zephyr patted the seat beside him. "Right on time."
I sat stiffly, hyperaware of everything—Kaine's amused gaze, Raven's analytical stare, Lysander's bored expression that didn't quite hide his interest.
"So," Zephyr said, loading my plate with food I hadn't asked for, "tell us about yourself, Aria Blackwood."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Everyone has a story," Raven said, his silver eyes unnaturally bright. "Even those who pretend they don't."
"Especially those," Lysander added, finally looking up from his phone. This close, his beauty was almost painful—like looking directly at the sun.
"Leave her alone," Kaine ordered, though he seemed more amused than concerned. "She's Zephyr's project, not yours."
"Everything in this academy is ours," Lysander corrected. "Some things we just haven't claimed yet."
The weight of implication in those words made my skin crawl.
"Speaking of claiming," Zephyr said, his tone deceptively light, "there's a Hunt tomorrow night."
I looked at him blankly.
"He doesn't know," Raven observed. "How refreshing."
"The Hunt," Kaine explained, "is a traditional academy event. The werewolves hunt. The humans run. If you're caught, you belong to whoever catches you for the weekend."
My fork clattered to my plate. "What?"
"It's voluntary," Zephyr added quickly. "For humans. But participation is... encouraged. The prizes for lasting longest are substantial."
"And if you're caught?"
The four of them exchanged looks.
"Then you spend the weekend serving whoever caught you," Lysander said, his smile sharp as glass. "In whatever capacity they require."
"That's barbaric."
"That's tradition," Kaine corrected. "One that's been practiced for centuries. It's meant to build trust between species."
"How does being hunted build trust?"
"You'd be surprised," Zephyr murmured, his hand finding my knee under the table. "There's something intimate about the chase. Predator and prey, locked in an ancient dance. It strips away pretense, reveals truth."
I jerked my leg away. "I won't participate."
"Won't you?" Lysander leaned forward, his color-shifting eyes hypnotic. "Even knowing that the winner receives a full scholarship? Even knowing that refusing marks you as weak, afraid? Even knowing that we'll be hunting?"
The threat was clear. Participate, or become a target anyway.
"I need to go," I said, standing abruptly.
Zephyr caught my wrist again. "We haven't discussed our project."
"Later."
"Tonight," he said firmly. "My room. Ten PM."
"That's after curfew."
His smile was all predator. "I know."
I yanked free and fled, feeling their eyes follow me all the way to the door. In the hallway, I nearly collided with Ethan.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said.
"Worse. I've been invited to dinner with wolves."
His expression darkened. "The princes?"
I nodded.
"Be careful, Aria. They're not what they seem."
"What are they?"
He glanced around, then pulled me into an empty classroom. "They're the most dangerous creatures in this academy, and not just because of their power. They're looking for something. Have been for years. Every human who comes through here gets tested, evaluated, discarded."
"Tested for what?"
"I don't know. But whatever it is, you've caught their attention. That's either very good or very bad."
"Which do you think it is?"
He studied me for a long moment. "I honestly don't know. But I do know this—there are things happening at this academy that go deeper than human-werewolf integration. Ancient things. Dark things. And the princes are at the center of it all."
"How do you know all this?"
His green eyes flashed gold again, longer this time. "Because I'm not exactly what I seem either."
Before I could ask what he meant, the bell rang, and he was gone.
I stood in that empty classroom, my mind racing. Everyone had secrets here. Everyone was playing a game I didn't understand.
But one thing was becoming clear: I was no longer just a player.
I was the prize.
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