The night felt endless.
I stood in front of the academy buildings with Felix beside me, the cold digging into my bones like tiny knives. My legs were trembling, but I kept my chin high. I couldn't show weakness. Not now.
I kept glancing back. Over and over. Hoping.
Please, let someone else come. Let them see that we don't have to take this. Let them care.
Then, finally, Elise appeared. Her arms were folded tight, her expression unreadable, but she came. Behind her were two other ferals, ones I didn't even know by name. But that didn't matter.
Then five more joined. Quiet. Hesitant. But they came.
We were ten. Just ten. Not the army I'd hoped for. But still, ten voices were louder than one.
I kept looking down the path, hoping. Waiting. But Callum never came.
My chest hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Morning came slowly, the sky shifting from black to bruised purple, then a pale, exhausted gray. The morning siren went off. The Academy started to stir. Lycans, Elites strutted past us, wrinkling their noses like we were something foul. Nobles stared, whispered. Some laughed.
But we stayed. We stood. Even as our feet ached and our eyes begged for sleep, we stood.
Then I heard the sharp clack of boots approaching. I turned and saw her, Astrid Voss. She walked like a storm that knew it couldn't be stopped, her icy eyes sweeping over us with thinly veiled disgust.
She stopped in front of me, looking around like we were a pile of garbage someone forgot to burn. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked.
I stepped forward, my voice hoarse but steady. "We're done being silent."
She raised a brow, amused.
"Ferals are being murdered," I continued. "And no one cares. We're not just dying, we're being hunted. And the Academy… it just watches. Like we're less than dirt."
Astrid tilted her head and gave a cold smile. "You're not dirt, Ms. Anderson. Dirt can be useful."
The words slapped me in the face, but I didn't flinch.
"We demand an investigation into every feral death," I said. "We demand to be treated like lives that matter."
She laughed. Actually laughed. "You demand?" she repeated, like it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
"You think this," she gestured around at us, "—makes you powerful? You're nothing but a group of tired little pests throwing a tantrum. If you think skipping class and freezing your asses off will change anything, you're more delusional than I thought."
Her smile faded. "Every class you miss today? That's punishment waiting for you. Point deductions. Labor. Worse. You're only hurting yourselves."
Then, like we weren't even worth her time, she turned and walked away.
I watched her go, my heart beating like war drums in my chest. I could hear the shuffling behind me. The fear. The uncertainty.
But I didn't move.
Because maybe she thought we were nothing. Maybe she believed we were beneath her.
But I had ten people behind me. Ten people who stood up. Ten people who had chosen not to be silent.
And even if she thought we were less than dirt…
Dirt, when it gathers, can become a mountain.
And a mountain can crush everything built on injustice.
I stood there, exposed, vulnerable, trembling not from fear, but from the weight of failure pressing into my spine. I had led them out here, holding on to this fragile hope that maybe… just maybe… we'd be heard. That our voices would carry enough power to shift something, anything.
But Astrid Voss didn't care. The other students didn't care. The academy sure as hell didn't care.
I glanced back at the few who had followed me: Felix, unwavering beside me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides; Elise, silent as a statue behind me, her expression unreadable. The others hung back, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. They looked to me, and for the first time, I wasn't sure what to give them.
That's when the laughter started.
It came in waves, smooth, rich, and laced with venom.
I turned, and there they were. Elites.
About eight of them, striding toward us like they were walking into a stage performance. They didn't just look confident, they looked like predators circling wounded prey. I knew that look. I'd seen it my whole life.
"Well, well," one of them said, his voice practically dripping with mockery. "Look at the little rebellion."
"Didn't know ferals could even stand upright long enough to protest," another added, sipping lazily from a thermos. "Should we be impressed or just entertained?"
I didn't flinch. I stood my ground, even though my insides quaked.
"We're not here for you," I said firmly. "We're here for justice. That's not a concept you'd understand."
The leader of the group, a tall boy with coal-black hair and sharp cheekbones—smirked. "Justice? Oh, sweetheart. You don't get that luxury. You're feral. You exist to die quietly."
Felix stepped forward. "Say that again."
The elite just chuckled. "Relax, mutt. We're just here to watch the show. But if you're feeling brave, maybe we can give you a lesson in humility."
Then he shoved Felix, hard.
Before I could blink, Felix lunged at him. The elites were ready. They wanted this. Another elite grabbed one of the smaller feral boys by the collar and slammed him into the ground. Elise stumbled backward as another elite reached for her, but she twisted away just in time.
Chaos exploded around me.
I tried to push forward, to break up the fight, but someone caught my arm and yanked me back roughly. I hit the ground, gasping as the air left my lungs.
"Stay down, little leader," the coal-haired elite sneered above me. "Know your place."
And just when it felt like it was about to spiral completely out of control—
A sound stopped everything.
Deep thunderous growls.
It rolled through the courtyard like a warning drumbeat, low and menacing.
Another growl followed. Then another.
Dozens.
We all froze, elites and ferals alike, turning toward the path behind us.
And there he was.
Callum.
He stepped into the courtyard with fire in his eyes and steel in his stance. And behind him—
The rest of them.
The rest of the ferals.
They came like a silent tide, boys and girls, injured and exhausted, eyes hard, shoulders squared. They didn't shout. They didn't run. They moved. As one.
They didn't come to fight.
They came to protect.
Without a word, they formed a ring around me and the others who had stood with me since last night. A shield of bruised bodies and quiet resolve.
Callum walked right up to the elite who had shoved me, his expression blank, but his aura radiated barely contained fury.
"If you're going to start fights," he said, voice low and lethal, "make sure you finish them."
The elite looked at him. Something flickered in his eyes, hesitation, maybe even fear, but he scoffed and stepped back, clearly not expecting the tide to turn.
"Is this supposed to scare us?" he muttered. "You're still ferals."
"But we're not alone anymore," I said, rising to my feet.
He looked at me, then at the line of ferals now staring him down—and he knew.
This wasn't the same group they had mocked just now
This wasn't just a few desperate kids with nothing to lose.
This was a pack.
Callum stood beside me, arms crossed.
"We're done being silent," he said.
The elites turned around to leave.
"We will be back" the coal haired elite said
They left
They didn't run, but they didn't fight, either
And as they disappeared into the academy, I turned and looked at everyone surrounding me. For the first time, I felt something stir, not just in me, but in all of us.
We weren't just trying to survive anymore.
We were starting to fight.