BOURNEMOUTH SHIFTER ACADEMY

It was the beginning of a new academic session at Bournemouth Shifter Academy, and the hum of privilege vibrated through the crisp coastal air.

The academy grounds buzzed with life as students arrived in custom sports cars and high-end SUVs, dressed in bespoke designer uniforms tailored to absolute perfection.

They laughed loudly, swapping stories of summer trips as they reunited with friends after the break.

A new term meant new placement lists, one step closer to graduation, one step closer to taking their places in society, and for the noble heirs of Bournemouth, one step closer to inheriting absolute power.

There were celebrations everywhere.

Music blasted from the central quadrangle. Students compared family gifts, sleek vehicles, rare enchanted trinkets, and custom leather jackets from elite designers.

The atmosphere was alive with pride, wealth, and raw wolf energy.

But none of it belonged to Nessa Rowan.

Nessa lay flat on her mattress, staring up at the cracked plaster ceiling as her alarm bell shattered the quiet of her room.

She hated that morning had come. That the new session was already here.

The physical bruises from last term had faded from her skin, but the memories hadn't, the humiliation, the echoing laughter, the sharp, whispered insults that followed her down every stone corridor.

The heavy hands that had shoved her down the grand staircases and slammed her shoulders hard into iron lockers.

Even after two months away from the academy, every cruel moment still burned fresh inside her chest.

If there had been any way to avoid returning to Bournemouth Shifter Academy, she would have taken it without a second thought.

But no one cared whether she went to school or not; no one cared about Nessa.

Letting out a slow, steady breath, she hit the alarm to silence it and forced herself to sit up.

Her room was cold and plain, tucked away in the dampest, most isolated corner of the Rowan estate like something forgotten.

While the rest of the house gleamed with polished marble, velvet, and luxury, Nessa’s space felt like a disused storage closet someone had reluctantly allowed her to occupy.

That was exactly what her life had always been since she was born the ultimate disgrace of the Rowan household.

Born from her father's affair with an unknown outsider, she carried the stain of mixed blood in a world where bloodline purity dictated every breath you took.

In Bournemouth, your wolf determined your worth.

Silver Lycans ruled from the throne, Golden Wolves managed the laws, White Wolves commanded spiritual reverence, and Black Wolves controlled the commercial markets and social lines.

And mixed-bloods? Wolfless mixed-bloods like Nessa were despised, defective reminders of broken bloodlines, disgrace, and impurity.

To be born without a wolf in a Black Wolf family was a public failure, a sign that her father had strayed outside the kingdom's blood traditions, and Nessa was the living proof.

Her father had died when she was young, leaving her trapped in the care of a stepmother who hated everything she represented.

Her half-sister, Mira had inherited the dominant, pure Black Wolf of the Rowan bloodline.

Only Nessa carried the mark of a wolfless hybrid, growing up completely unwanted in her own home, invisible until someone needed a target to blame.

At school, it was even worse.

At Bournemouth Shifter Academy, wolf rank mattered far more than kindness, and Nessa had spent every single term learning how brutal people could be when they believed someone stood beneath them.

She got out of bed slowly, moving through the motions she knew all too well.

She brushed her teeth, washed her face, took a quick shower, and smoothed cream over her skin.

She pulled on the mandatory academy uniform, buttoned the crisp collar tight, and tied the crest-patterned ribbon at her neck.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror once she was fully dressed.

Her long hair, a mix of dark brown laced with silver waves, fell loosely over her shoulders. Her muted gray-green eyes looked dull despite their natural shape.

People occasionally whispered that she was delicate and pretty, but beauty had never saved her from being target practice whenever she stepped out of line.

At Bournemouth, beauty without a wolf or high status only made her more of a target. She grabbed her leather satchel and headed downstairs.

As expected, the family was already gathered around the grand dining table. Celeste, her stepmother, sat at the head reviewing morning financial ledgers.

Her uncle scoffed at something on his tablet, while Mira, her half-sister, sat elegantly beside him, casually sipping herbal tea.

Not a single person acknowledged Nessa’s arrival.

She moved quietly toward the kitchen counter, deciding to make herself a cup of coffee instead of daring to sit with them.

She was reaching for a porcelain mug when Mira suddenly spoke up.

“So,” her sister purred lightly, not even turning around, “What issues are we solving this term?”

Nessa froze, the words striking hard, but she kept her face completely blank, refusing to utter a sound.

She had learned long ago that silence was her safest shield; any visible reaction only entertained them.

So she poured her coffee with steady hands, even though her chest burned with quiet humiliation.

"Just make sure you don't embarrass the Rowan name by running to the headmaster to report bullies," her cousin added dismissively, causing Mira to laugh even harder.

"I don't need that kind of hassle at school."

"Are you seriously wearing that old uniform to the opening session?" Mira pressed further, her eyes sweeping over Nessa with pure disgust.

"When everyone else is wearing updated tailors, you're walking into the academy looking like THAT!"

Nessa looked down at her faded sleeve, then glanced toward her stepmother.

Celeste didn't even lift her gaze from her papers. When she finally did, her voice was sharp and cold.

"Table manners," she snapped, cutting them off instantly. They went silent, returning to their breakfast.

Nessa was saved when her phone buzzed sharply in her skirt pocket.

She pulled it out immediately, Talia was calling. She answered before the second ring.

“Where on earth are you?” Talia’s cheerful, loud voice burst through the receiver.

“I’m parked outside waiting with my new ride, and if you don’t get your butt out here in thirty seconds, I’m leaving without you.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at Nessa’s lips for the first time that morning. “I’m coming.”

She grabbed her satchel and left the kitchen without saying another word.

Outside the gates of the estate, a sleek, deep emerald sports car was idling near the curb. Talia Knox leaned against the driver's door, grinning broadly.

“Finally!”