Chapitre 7

KAIA

Professor Matthews seems like a perfectly decent person—well-spoken, impeccably dressed, and with the kind of calm voice that immediately commands attention—if you ignore the fact that he's openly against having Betas at the Academy.

Standing at the front of the lecture hall, he looks every bit the distinguished professor. His silver hair is neatly combed back, not a strand out of place, and his charcoal-gray suit fits him with military precision. Thin-rimmed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of quiet intelligence. If I had met him anywhere else, I probably would have liked him.

Instead, every time he speaks about tradition, I want to argue with him.

Since class began, he's repeated at least three times that Blackwood Academy has always been an elite institution, founded to educate the future leaders of werewolf society.

His emphasis on elite isn't accidental.

Everyone knows exactly what he means.

Alphas.

Not Betas.

Definitely not me.

It irritates me far more than it should.

Beside me, my wolf shifts restlessly beneath my skin.

Ever since my eighteenth birthday, she's changed.

She's stronger.

Louder.

It's as if she's finally awake after years of sleeping, constantly urging me to stand taller, speak louder, and stop accepting disrespect simply because it's easier.

Usually, I ignore her.

Today...

Not so much.

Professor Matthews clasps his hands behind his back and slowly scans the room.

"So," he says, "which one of you is capable of introducing me to our prestigious Academy?"

Without hesitation, I raise my hand.

No one else does.

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face before he lets out a restrained sigh.

After several long seconds, he realizes he has no choice.

"Miss Mercer."

I stand.

The lecture hall is enormous, with rows of polished oak desks rising in tiers toward the back of the room. Tall arched windows flood the classroom with soft morning light, illuminating portraits of former Headmasters that line the stone walls. Above the professor hangs the Blackwood crest—a silver wolf framed by intertwined branches—watching over every lesson like a silent reminder of the Academy's legacy.

Dozens of eyes settle on me.

Some curious.

Some amused.

Some openly hostile.

I ignore them.

"Walter Andrew Blackwood founded Blackwood Academy in 1820 with the goal of strengthening the packs, the Alphas, and the bonds between them. His vision was to create a united organization capable of protecting our existence from humans while ensuring that every pack could prosper economically and politically."

The room remains silent.

"Originally, only firstborn Alpha heirs were permitted to study here. However, beginning in 1987, the Academy recognized that leadership wasn't determined solely by birth order, allowing all Alpha children to attend."

I pause just long enough for Professor Matthews to think I'm finished.

"I'm sure everyone here knows that part."

A few students exchange glances.

"So today..."

I offer him a polite smile.

"...four Betas have been granted the privilege of studying at Blackwood Academy because, just as they did in 1987, the Academy's administration has realized that a pack has no second-class citizens."

The silence becomes heavier.

"An Alpha is only as strong as the wolves standing beside them. Training the future Betas—the future advisors, strategists, protectors, and right hands of our Alphas—can only strengthen our packs."

Somewhere behind me, someone hisses in disapproval.

Another student lets out a quiet scoff.

Professor Matthews remains perfectly still.

For the first time since class began...

He has absolutely nothing to say.

"...Very well, Miss Mercer."

His clipped tone says everything.

"You may sit down."

I do, pretending not to notice the dozens of stares still fixed on me.

"You nailed it, K," Asher murmurs beside me, his voice barely above a whisper.

When I glance at him, he gives me the smallest smile.

One that somehow makes the knot of frustration in my chest loosen.

***

By the time class ends, the lecture hall erupts into conversation.

Students gather their notebooks, chairs scrape across the polished wooden floor, and dozens of conversations blend into one overwhelming wave of noise.

I wait for the crowd to thin before stepping into the hallway.

The corridors of Blackwood Academy are just as impressive as the rest of the campus. Vaulted ceilings stretch high overhead, banners bearing the crests of the founding packs hang between enormous stone columns, and sunlight pours through stained-glass windows, painting the floor in shades of crimson, gold, and sapphire.

It's beautiful.

And somehow...

Still feels like high school.

As I pass a group of second-years, one of them mutters loudly enough for me to hear.

"Suck-up."

Another snorts.

"Teacher's pet."

I keep walking.

If they're trying to get a reaction, they're wasting their time.

"Kaia."

Before I can turn around, someone grabs my arm.

Hard.

I barely have time to register Debbie's perfume before she's dragging me down the corridor.

"Debbie—"

She doesn't answer.

She shoves open the restroom door, checks that it's empty, then spins around to face me.

"What the hell were you thinking back there?" she snaps.

Her blue eyes are blazing with anger, and her perfectly styled blonde hair has already escaped the neat ponytail she'd worn this morning. Even furious, she somehow still looks composed.

"What?" I pull my arm free. "I answered a question."

"No." Her voice rises. "You made a statement."

She throws her hands into the air.

"Now everyone knows exactly what you are."

I frown. "And what's that?"

"A loser."

The word lands harder than I expect.

"They're going to associate me with you." She takes a step closer. "I've spent years building a reputation, Kaia." Her lip curls ever so slightly. "There's no way anyone can find out that you and I have... whatever this is."

Whatever this is.

Not sisters.

Not family.

Not even friends.

I should be used to hearing it by now.

It still stings.

"Don't worry," I reply quietly. "I wasn't planning on telling anyone."

She studies me for a second before looking away.

"Good." Her expression hardens again. "Stay away from me."

Without another word, she turns on her heel and walks out, the restroom door slamming shut behind her.

Silence settles over the room.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

How exactly am I supposed to protect someone who won't even let me stand next to her?

Then again...

Maybe she doesn't need protecting.

Maybe Daniel worries too much.

So far, the Academy isn't the ruthless battlefield I'd imagined.

No one is trying to kill each other.

No secret trials.

No deadly political games.

No impossible survival tests.

It's...

School.

A ridiculously expensive, centuries-old boarding school filled with wolves who gossip between classes, complain about professors, and argue over football.

Honestly...

I'm a little disappointed.