A sharp, loud, siren sound echoed through the whole building, shattering the silence.
I jolted awake, my body tensing out of pure habit, expecting a kick to the ribs or a bucket of cold water thrown over my head. But nothing came.
Instead, I was greeted by silence.
The air in the room was warm, the bed beneath me still impossibly soft. My fingers curled into the sheets, feeling the unfamiliar comfort. I had slept. Really slept. Probably for the first time in five years.
I stretched my aching limbs, wincing at the lingering soreness from my beating. But it was duller now, numbed by rest and warmth. I had no idea what time it was, but if the loud siren meant anything, it was probably morning.
I sat up slowly, my eyes scanning the room once again. It still felt surreal. The dresser, the lamp, the empty tray from the food I finished before I had slept off.
And—my eyes landed on the uniform neatly folded on the table now
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, ignoring the faint protest of my body. A small door in the corner caught my attention, and when I pushed it open, I found a bathroom. A real bathroom.
Everything I needed was already inside—towels, soap, even a toothbrush. I hesitated for only a second before turning on the shower.
Warm water cascaded down my body, washing away the dried blood and dirt that clung to me. I watched as the water ran red at my feet.
Five years. Five years of filth. Of grime. Of pain.
I scrubbed my skin raw.
When I finally stepped out, I felt… lighter. Not completely, but different.
I reached for the uniform.
The fabric was smooth, nothing like the rough, ragged cloth I was used to. The white button-up shirt was crisp, its collar lined with a deep purple. The black fitted blazer was tailored to perfection, with gold buttons and subtle embroidery of the academy's crest. The black pants were neither too tight nor too loose, fitting me in a way that almost felt intentional. The shoes were polished, comfortable, like they had never been worn before.
I slipped the clothes on, and they fit perfectly.
I moved in front of the mirror, and for the first time in years, I actually looked at myself.
My face was frail, my cheekbones sharp from years of malnourishment. But beneath the paleness of my skin, there was an undeniable beauty. Large hazel eyes, framed by dark lashes, stared back at me. My lips were full but cracked, the only evidence of how much I had been biting them out of nervous habit. My long, tangled dark hair had dried into loose waves, flowing past my shoulders.
I barely recognized myself.
Before I could linger too long, a sudden knock at the door startled me.
I turned, heart pounding.
Slowly, I stepped forward and pulled the door open.
A man stood on the other side.
He was not a Lycan, I could tell that immediately. But that didn't make him any less intimidating. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a black suit with a green tie, his posture rigid and disciplined. His eyes settled on me without a hint of emotion.
"Follow me," he said.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped out and followed him immediately.
The sound of my footsteps barely made a noise as I followed him outside.
I thought I had a good view of the school last night but I obviously didn't.
I wasn't sure what I expected to see, but it wasn't this.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The academy stretched out before me, vast and impossibly grand. The buildings stood tall, sleek and modern, yet ancient in a way that made them feel untouchable. Massive glass windows gleamed under the sunlight, reflecting the world like mirrors. The marble pathways were pristine, lined with towering trees swaying gently in the breeze
Everything was too perfect.
Too polished. Too rich. Too powerful.
It felt like I had stepped into a world I had no business being in.
I forced my legs to keep moving, struggling to shake the unease creeping up my spine.
As we walked, I noticed the academy was coming to life. We reached what seemed to be the busier part of the campus, and that was when I saw them.
The cars.
Sleek, expensive, otherworldly.
They rolled in smoothly, their engines a quiet hum of power. I had never seen such luxury before, not up close, not even from afar. Each car looked like it cost more than my entire existence.
I swallowed, tearing my gaze away to look at the students wallking around instead.
They were all dressed like me, wearing the same uniform, moving quickly and purposefully. Their backs were straight, heads held high, an aura of arrogant confidence rolling off them.
But something stood out.
Their collars.
I glanced down at my own purple-lined collar before scanning the crowd. Some had blue collars. Others had green. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew enough to realize I was different.
"Go there," the man in the suit said, pointing towards a massive hall where most of the students were heading.
I nodded, gripping the hem of my blazer as I started toward the building.
I had only taken a few steps when—
A car sped past me.
I stopped, my breath hitching.
It wasn't just the speed that made me freeze.
It was the car itself.
Black. Darker than midnight. The chrome details gleamed under the sunlight, making it look even sharper, deadlier.
I wasn't the only one who noticed.
The entire atmosphere shifted.
People paused mid-step, heads turning, eyes following the car like it commanded attention without trying. A silent understanding seemed to ripple through the students around me.
This car belonged to someone important.
It came to a smooth stop right in front of the hall.
The front door opened first and a man stepped out. The man who was dressed in sharp, dark clothing moved swiftly to the back, reaching for the handle with practiced precision.
Then, the door opened.
And he stepped out.
My stomach twisted.
He was tall.
Towering.
Effortlessly powerful.
His jet-black hair was slightly tousled, but instead of making him look unkempt, it only added to the effortless perfection of his features. Sharp cheekbones. Strong jawline. Skin so smooth it looked like it had never known a scar.
But it was his eyes that made my breath catch.
Red.
Not just red. Glowing.
Like embers burning under his gaze, shifting with the light. A reminder that he was different. That he wasn't just a werewolf. He was something more.
His uniform was like mine, except for one thing.
His collar was red.
He adjusted his blazer smoothly, exuding a kind of calm dominance that sent a shiver down my spine.
Then, as if he could feel my eyes on him, he lifted his head.
And his gaze locked onto mine.