Leo's POV
The Star Academy for Gifted Children smelled like lemon wax. Expensive perfume. And fear.
Mostly fear. Buried under the scent of organic sanitizer, but to a wolf, it was loud. The smell of weak prey pretending to be predators.
"Stop sniffing," I whispered. "You look like a dog."
Aries wrinkled his nose. Five minutes older. He lorded that fact over us whenever he wanted the last chicken nugget. But in the field, I was in charge. Intelligence outranked brute force. Mom's rule.
"Smell wrong," Aries muttered. Hands tucked into his blazer pockets. "Like... fake wolves."
"Betas," Cyra said. Her voice sweet. Airy. She adjusted the pink bow in her hair. Perfect little angel. "And rich humans. Dads working for the big packs."
We stood in the hallway. Three small figures against a sea of navy blue. Identical features—black hair, amber eyes we had to keep dull. Different functions.
I was Leo. The Brain. I fixed things.
Aries was the Brawn. He broke things.
Cyra was... Cyra was the Spy. She knew things.
"Remember the rules," I said. Mom's morning briefing. "Rule Number One?"
"Don't shift," Aries grumbled. "Even if they deserve it."
"Rule Number Two?"
"Don't hack the mainframe," Cyra sighed. She looked at the server room door. Hungry. "Unless it's an emergency."
"Rule Number Three?"
"Be invisible," we said together.
Mom had been clear. We were hiding. Ran from the North—cold, loud—to this city. Mom said she needed Dragon's Blood. Medicine for Grandpa. But I knew better. I knew about the men chasing us. The "Silver-Tech" weapons she built in the basement.
Mostly, I knew we had to be ghosts.
"Good." I straightened my tie. "Let's go learn the alphabet. Again."
The morning was slow. Painful.
Mrs. Gable. Human. High-pitched voice that grated on enhanced hearing. She spent twenty minutes explaining how to hold a pencil. I looked at Cyra. She had already disassembled her mechanical pencil. Reassembling it into a miniature grappling hook. Rubber band. Paperclip.
Aries was worse. Vibrating. Leg bouncing under the desk. Floor shaking.
"Still," I hissed.
"Can't," he whispered. Eyes darting. "Guy behind me keeps kicking my chair."
I glanced back. Chubby boy. Gelled hair. Sneer. The scent hit me—Wolf. Beta. New money. No manners.
"Ignore him. We are invisible."
Aries gritted his teeth. Stopped bouncing.
Lunch. A battlefield. We sat at a corner table, unpacking bento boxes. Rice shaped like pandas. Mom tried. She packed a normal lunch, even if she put trackers in our shoes.
"Staring again," Cyra said. Stabbed a broccoli floret.
I looked up. The chubby boy—Billy—was whispering to two others. They looked our way. Laughed.
"Called us 'strays'," Cyra said. "Said our clothes look like dumpster finds."
Snap. Aries' fork broke.
"Calm down." I put a hand on his arm. Muscle like rock. Too strong for a five-year-old. "Words are wind."
"He's coming," Aries growled. Air around him shimmered. Heat haze. Alpha energy leaking out.
"Aries," I warned. "Rule Number One."
Billy and his goons marched up. Up close, he smelled of grease. Entitlement.
"Hey," Billy said. Puffed his chest. "Our table."
I looked around. Cafeteria half empty. "Plenty of tables."
"Want this one." He reached out. Shoved my lunch box. Panda rice hit the floor.
Silence.
I watched the grains scatter. Pulse steady. Calculated variables. Three opponents. Beta bloodlines. Minimal training. Aries could end them in four seconds. But that would expose us.
"Pick it up," Aries said. Voice low. Strange resonance. A growl that shouldn't exist in a child.
Billy blinked. Wolf instincts screaming danger. Spoiled brain ignoring them. "Make me, stray. My dad is a pack elder. Who's your dad? Oh wait. Don't have one."
Aries stood.
Chair scraped. Loud.
Slow motion. Aries' eyes flashed. Not a flicker. A solid burn. Molten gold. Pressure in the room dropped. Kids stopped eating. They felt it. Something higher on the food chain.
Billy stepped back. Pale. "What... what are you?"
Aries pulled back his fist. He wouldn't just bruise him. He'd shatter the skull.
"Stop!"
Didn't shout. Just kicked Aries in the shin Under the table. Hard.
Aries flinched. Gold faded. Pain cut through the rage. Looked at me. Bewildered.
"Don't," I mouthed. "Mom."
The leash. Aries froze. Fist hovering. Lowered it slowly. Nostrils flared.
"Smart choice," Billy sneered. Mistook hesitation for fear. Turned to Cyra. "Look at the mute girl. Can't talk? Stupid?"
He reached out. Yanked Cyra's pink ribbon.
Came loose. Hair fell over her face.
That was it.
Insult Aries? He gets mad. Insult me? I ignore you. Touch Cyra?
You die.
Aries roared. Guttural. Terrifying. He lunged.
I jumped up. Grabbed Aries by the blazer. "No!"
Uses his momentum. Pivoted. Spun him. Made it look clumsy. "Aries, careful!"
We crashed into Billy.
A pile-up of clumsy kids. Chaos. But I saw Cyra move.
Didn't look like a spy. Looked like a scared girl scrambling away. But her hand moved. Blur.
The "Fire Ant Special."
My recipe. Pollen from Mom's poisonous flower. Fiberglass shavings. Doesn't kill you. Just makes you wish you were dead.
Cyra's hand brushed Billy's neck.
We disentangled. Aries panting. Face red. I held him back. Looked terrified.
"I'm telling!" Billy yelled. Scrambled up. Pushed me. "Freaks! Dad's gonna expel you!"
Turned to run.
One step. Two steps.
Reached up to scratch his neck.
Three steps.
Stopped. Scratched harder. Face contorted.
"Create distance," I whispered. We shuffled back. Huddled like sheep.
"Ms. Gable!" Billy screamed. Panic now. "It burns! It burns!"
Clawed at his neck. Red welts rose. Ripped at his collar. Nails digging into skin. Fell to his knees. Rolled. Shrieking.
"Get it off!"
Cafeteria erupted. Ms. Gable running. Heels clicking on linoleum. "Billy! What happened?"
"Poisoned me!" Billy pointed a shaking finger using. "The strays! They did something!"
Every eye on us.
I looked at my shoes. Lip trembled. Squeezed eyes shut. Tears leaked out. Easy.
"We... we didn't," I sobbed. "He pushed us. Spilled my rice."
Cyra hid her face in Aries' chest. Shoulders shaking. Crying to them. Laughing to us.
Aries looked confused. Helped. He really didn't know what happened. "He's crazy."
"Allergic reaction!" Ms. Gable yelled. "Nurse! Epipen!"
Billy foaming at the mouth. Maybe used too much fiberglass. Oops.
Teachers swarmed. I risked a glance at Cyra. She peeked out. Winked.
Exhaled. Won. Dignity protected. Enemy punished. Cover kept.
Or so I thought.
Twenty minutes later. Principal's office.
Principal Skinner. Balding. Smelled of stale coffee and anxiety. Pacing.
Billy's parents. Loud.
"Look at my son!" Billy's mother shrieked. Tweed suit. Too tight. Gold buttons that looked like plastic. "Skin ruined! Who are these savages?"
"Checking surveillance," Skinner stammered. "Mrs. Vane hasn't arrived."
"Don't care about their mother!" Billy's father. Big. Thick neck. Collar digging into meat. "Expel them! Arrest them!"
Slammed his hand on the desk.
Aries flinched. Not fear. Hand twitched toward the pencil holder. Calculating velocity. Jugular strike.
I kicked Aries' ankle. Rule Number Four. Don't kill parents.
Door opened.
"I'm here."
Soft voice. Diamond cutter on glass.
Mom.
No "Shadow Lord" gear. Trench coat. Damp. Belted tight over a floral dress. Hair loose. Breathless. Concerned young mother.
But the eyes.
Ice.
Scanned the room. One second. Threat assessment. Saw the chest-puffing father. The sweating Principal. Us on the couch.
Gaze softened on us. "Leo? Aries? Cyra? Hurt?"
Rushed over. Kneeling. Hands checking for breaks. Making it look like a hug.
"We're okay, Mommy," Cyra sniffled. "Boy was mean. Spilled Leo's rice."
Mom's jaw tightened. Fraction. Stood up. Turned.
Shoulders didn't square. Stance didn't widen. But the air changed. She drew herself up. Did not look small anymore.
"Mrs. Vane," Skinner began. "Incident."
"Incident?" Billy's mom scoffed. "feral brats poisoned Billy!"
"Poisoned?" Mom blinked. Confused. "With what? They are five. Did they pack plutonium?"
"Don't play dumb!" Billy's dad stepped forward. Intimidation tactic. "Son in the infirmary! Says the girl touched him! Started burning!"
Pointed a thick finger at Cyra.
Mom stepped in. Smooth.
"Lower your finger," Mom said. Quiet. Warmth gone. "Before you lose it."
Billy's dad laughed. "Threat? Do you know who I am? Elder of the Storm Pack! I answer only to Alpha Damon!"
Damon.
Mom flinched. Microscopic. Only I saw it.
"Don't care who you answer to," Mom said. "Proof. You have cameras?"
"Of course," Skinner said. "Pulling up footage."
Tapped keyboard. Screen flickered.
Held my breath. Camera would show the truth. Aries' rage. Cyra's hand.
We'd have to run.
Video started.
Cafeteria. Table.
Billy walked up. Pushed rice. Aries stood.
Video glitched.
Pixelated.
Cleared. Scene changed.
Aries didn't fight. Stood up... offered Billy a napkin?
And Cyra? Cowering behind me. Billy flailing at invisible bees.
"What?" Billy's dad stared. "That's not what happened! Brat punched him!"
"Video doesn't lie," Mom said. Cool. Amused. "Your son has... behavioral issues. Skin condition?"
I looked at Cyra. Studying her fingernails.
Not just a pencil reassembly. Server link. That "game" on the tablet. Backdoor installed.
My sister was terrifying.
"Doctored!" Billy's dad roared. "Witch! Hacker!"
"She is five," Mom said. "Likes My Little Pony. Accusing a toddler of cyber-warfare?"
Skinner looked relieved. "Mr. Miller, evidence is clear. Billy... initiated. Allergic reaction. Cleaning products?"
Miller turned purple. "No! Calling the board! Calling Damon!"
Pulled out his phone.
Room went dead.
Mom went still. Hand drifted to purse. Pistol? Flashbang?
"Call him," Mom said. "Let Alpha Prime see his 'Elder' bully a single mother."
Gamble. Huge.
Miller dialed. Speaker. Glaring.
"Connect me to Damon," he barked.
Pause. Voice through the speaker.
Deep. Rough. Rocks grinding together.
"What is it, Miller?"
Shiver down my spine. That voice. Sounded like... home. Safety. Danger.
Aries lifted his head. Nose twitching. Smelled it. Through the phone.
"Alpha," Miller whined. Subservient. "Situation at school. New students... attacked Billy. Mother refusing responsibility."
"Billy dead?" Damon's voice. Bored.
"No, but—"
"Handle it. In a meeting."
"But Alpha! See this woman. Insolent. Kids... strange."
Silence.
"Strange how?"
"Boy... temper. And eyes. Saw gold."
Air froze.
"Gold?" Damon's voice promised violence. "Who?"
Miller looked at Mom. Grinned. "Lyra Vane."
Silence. Heavy. Bone-crushing.
"Lyra Vane," Damon repeated. Not bored. Hungry.
"Keep her there," Damon said. "Coming."
Line died.
Mom didn't move. Looked at us.
"Pack up," she said. "Leaving."
"But Mrs. Vane—" Skinner protested.
Mom turned. Smiled. Teeth.
"Alpha can talk to my lawyer."
Grabbed our hands. "Come on, cubs. School's out."
Walked out. Stunned adults behind. I looked up at Mom. Hand shaking.
"Mom?" I whispered. "Bad man coming?"
Squeezed my hand.
"Yes, Leo. Biggest bad wolf of them all."
Walked into sunlight. Shadow fell. Hide and seek over.
Damon Storm was coming.
Itching powder wouldn't stop him.
Damon's POV
Phone in my hand.
Lyra Vane.
Gold eyes.
Pieces clicked. The scent. Calm heartbeat. Kids with the "temper."
Stood up. Keys. Boardroom full of executives.
"Get out," I growled.
Stairs. Faster than humanly possible. Wolf howling. Pacing. Scratching at the door of my mind.
Pups. Mine.
Didn't know if they were mine. But if Lyra Vane thought she could hide gold-eyed children from me?
Wrong.
Not just hunting a mate.
Hunting my legacy.
God help anyone who stood in my way.