Our eyes met for a heartbeat.
His red eyes, piercing and impossibly deep, locked onto mine with a force I could barely breathe against.
For a split second, the world narrowed to just that gaze. My pulse skipped violently, my chest tightening as if it would crack under the pressure.
I couldn't look away.
But then, as if I didn't exist, he tore his gaze from me.
He turned smoothly, effortlessly shifting his posture, and walked toward the academy's massive orientation hall.
From the shadows, a throng of officials rushed toward him, wolves and Lycans alike.
They bowed deeply as they flanked him, heads low, eyes on the ground. The clamor of their hurried footsteps echoed across the school, but I could not stop watching.
He didn't glance back.
His shoulders squared as the officials escorted him into the towering entrance of the orientation hall.
The crowd parted for him as if he were royalty.
I stood frozen in the academy's sprawling courtyard, chest heaving. My fingers clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the place where he had been.
Who was he?
The way they all bowed, the way the officials rushed to him, how his very presence commanded absolute, unquestioned respect, this was no ordinary Lycan.
Even among the Lycans, he had to be someone of the highest rank. A ruler. A prince, perhaps? The thought sent a chill down my spine.
I was still lost in my thoughts when someone slammed into me, hard enough to make me stumble back.
"Hey, watch it!" I hissed, snapping my gaze up.
The guy barely spared me a glance.
He wore the same academy uniform as me, but while my collar was purple, his was blue. His golden hair was perfectly styled, and he carried himself with an arrogance I recognized all too well.
Then his gaze flicked downward, straight to my collar.
His eyes darkened.
The disgust in his expression was instant, curling his lips into a sneer. "A Feral?"
He scoffed, shaking his head before shoving past me.
"You shouldn't even be here," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Know your place, lowly Feral."
I stiffened.
I turned to glare at his retreating form, but he was already walking away like I was nothing more than a stain beneath his shoe.
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
How the hell did he know?
I swallowed, feeling the weight of more stares on me.
As I continued toward the orientation hall, I began to notice it, the whispers, the sideways glances.
The way some of them looked at me and then quickly looked away, their lips twisting in disdain.
I recognized that look all too well.
It was the same way my pack members used to look at me.
With disgust.
I forced myself to ignore them.
The whispers. The disgusted glances. The silent judgment.
I'd endured worse.
I kept my head high as I strode forward, refusing to let them see the cracks in my resolve.
When I stepped into the orientation hall, my breath caught for a second.
The place was massive.
Golden chandeliers hung from the towering ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. The walls were sleek, decorated with intricate carvings of wolves and ancient symbols I didn't recognize. Banners of deep crimson and black draped across the walls, embroidered with what had to be the Lunar Crest Academy emblem—a silver wolf's head with piercing red eyes.
Rows of exquisitely carved seats stretched across the hall, filled with students, their colored collars creating a distinct separation.
Everything about this place reeked of power and wealth.
For a moment, I forgot to be afraid.
But then my gaze swept the room, and reality crashed back.
Among the sea of red, blue and green collars, I spotted one person, wearing a purple collar like mine.
He sat toward the back, slouched in his seat, fidgeting with his fingers. His posture was tense, his gaze darting around nervously like he expected someone to pounce on him any second.
He looked timid.
Scared.
I didn't think twice.
I walked straight to the back and took the empty seat beside him.
I turned slightly toward him, trying to catch his eye.
"Hey." My voice was low, cautious.
He didn't even glance at me. His fingers twitched in his lap, his shoulders rigid as if he were trying to make himself smaller.
I hesitated but pressed on. "I'm Lorraine Anderson, from the ShadowFang pack" I said.
At the mention of my pack's name, he finally looked up. His gaze flickered to my collar.
"You're a Feral," he murmured. "Just like me."
I studied him carefully. His face wasn't unkind, just anxious. His pale blue eyes held the same fear I'd seen in my own reflection for years.
After a brief pause, he exhaled sharply and loosened up a little. "I'm Callum. Callum Reed, from the Ashfang Pack."
He is another Feral.
The first one I've seen in this place.
My shoulders eased slightly. "How did you know I was one, that I was a Feral?"
He gave me a puzzled look. "Didn't you read the Academy handbpok? I think everyone was given one when they arrived"
I blinked. The book.
Now that he mentioned it, there had been one, a sleek black book with the academy's name and logo printed in silver, sitting on the table in my room. But after the long journey and the overwhelming night, I hadn't even bothered to open it.
Before I could respond, a loud siren blared through the hall.
Instantly, the atmosphere shifted.
Every student who had been lingering outside rushed inside, taking their seats with military precision. The quiet murmurs vanished, replaced by an eerie, tense silence.
As I scanned the room, I spotted a few more students with purple collars like mine. Not many. And none of them looked confident.
They all seemed just as out of place as I felt, like we didn't belong here.
And then I saw him.
Not fully.
Just the broad, towering frame of his back.
The Lycan that they all treated like royalty.
He sat at the very front, surrounded by others with red collars, the same ones who had bowed to him outside.
Something about him made my heart drop.
It wasn't just his presence.
It was the way everyone around him seemed to orbit him, like he was the center of everything. Like he ruled this place.
Who the hell was he?
Just then, the hall fell into complete silence.
The sharp clack of heels against the stage echoed through the vast space, and I didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Her.
The same woman I had met when I first arrived, the one with a towering build, a voice like a blade, and a presence so suffocating it made my knees weak.
Astrid Voss.
She was no longer in the crisp red suit from yesterday. Instead, she was dressed in a blood-red gown that clung to her like it had been designed specifically to worship her body. The fabric was smooth, elegant, flowing down her curves like liquid fire.
Her long ash-blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, sleek and commanding, the style emphasizing the sharp cut of her cheekbones and the burning red glint in her eyes.
She was already tall, but with the addition of striking black heels, she was towering, every step exuding raw power and control.
She looked lethal.
And she knew it.
Taking her place at the center of the stage, she let her piercing gaze sweep across the hall. She didn't even need a microphon, when she spoke, her voice rang out clear and sharp.
"Welcome to Lunar Crest Academy."
Even though her words were welcoming, there was nothing warm about them.
"I am Astrid Voss, your Head Coordinator. I oversee all students in this institution, ensuring that order and discipline are maintained at all costs."
Her eyes swept over us, pausing only briefly on the purple-collared students.
I swallowed hard.
"Before we continue with the official introduction," she said smoothly, "I would like to acknowledge the presence of a highly esteemed individual in this hall."
The air shifted.
An unspoken tension rippled through the students.
"Though he is here today as a student, he is also representing his father in this ceremony."
My chest tightened.
"Please join me in welcoming to the stage—"
She paused.
"—His Highness, the Lycan Prince… Kieran Valerius Hunter."
The Son of the Alpha King.
The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room.
And then, he stood.