chapter 4

Astrid

The academy looks like it was carved out of frost and giant stones. Cold. Clean. Intimidating. Just like everything my mother loves.

The black-and-silver uniform clings to my skin like armor — well pressed charcoal black blazer , a silver shirt, knee length flared skirt and ankle socks... suffocating. My boots echo too loudly as I walk through the main hall. Marble floors. High ceilings. Glass walls that reflect versions of myself I don’t recognize. Do they know who I am? I wonder.

Then again, I barely know. I mean I thought I swapped bodies earlier while I brushed.

People stare. Not curious. Assessing. Like they’re trying to place me on a scale — power, money, bloodline. I’ve never felt so exposed while being so covered.

My lungs tighten. My fingers itch to fidget, to disappear—

“Hey! You’re Astrid, right?”

The voice is warm, light, and way too loud for this place. I turn and blink at the girl practically skipping toward me. She’s got big dark curls, glossy lips, and a smile like we’ve known each other forever.

“I’m Eva. Campus guide. Your official tour buddy. Also, chronic oversharer. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Before I can say anything, she loops her arm through mine and steers me down the hall like we’re best friends. I’m too stunned to resist.

“You’ve got the haunted look,” she says with a grin. “New girl syndrome. Don’t worry, it’s curable. Probably.”

“I—uh—yeah. New.” This Eva girl is quiet a talker.

“Obviously,” she snorts. “Nobody just strolls in here unnoticed. You’re lucky you got me, though. Some guides just hand you a stupid pamphlet and disappear.”

I let out a breath. Almost a laugh. “Thanks… I guess.”

She squeezes my arm. “Anytime. Okay, listen up. This hallway? Absolute goldmine for skipping curfew. The supply closet near the music wing? Secret snack stash — don’t ask. And that stairwell? Never go there alone after midnight. Ghost rumors.”

I blink. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” She grins wider, brown eyes sparkling.

Her energy is chaotic but kind. It settles something nervous in my chest. Still, the stares don’t stop. People glance at me like I’ve broken an unspoken rule just by showing up.

“They’re sizing you up,” Eva mutters. “You’ll get used to it. This place is like… wolves in Prada. Everyone’s got something to prove.”

She steers me past a group of girls lounging like a perfume ad come to life — all long legs, perfect symmetrical faces, and identical resting smug faces.

“Hailey Montague and her clones,” Eva whispers, rolling her eyes . “Daughter of Crimson's pack Beta . Thinks she owns the moon. Don’t bother.”

I nod, mentally noting the name.

“And now for the real fun,” she says, lowering her voice like she’s about to drop state secrets. “Aiden Whitlock.”

Something sharp flickers in my chest. That name…it sounds oddly familiar–

“He’s the future Alpha,” she goes on. “Big deal, big ego. Always breaking rules. Gets away with it because — surprise — he’s Alpha’s only son. And he’s hot, of course. Emotionally constipated, but hot.”

Eva spends the next few minutes filling in me with as much details as she can, her presence I have to admit is really refreshing considering all the cold stares I get. When we reach the classroom , which is annoyingly really far from the entrance — and that’s when I see him.

He’s leaning against the wall behind the class, staring vacantly into the space right ahead of me, slender fingers drumming against the window pane. He has this laid-back stance that makes me feel uneasy even though he's not staring at me. My mouth goes dry at the sight and I clutch my skirt tight.

Aiden Whitlock.

Tall. Sharp. The kind of face you remember even if you want to forget it. Jaw like a knife. His hair is styled in tousled way, blond locks falling over his forehead, his left brow has a slash across it, perfectly framing a pair of sea blue eyes that stare back at me , a lazy expression sitting in them.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak.

He just steps aside and offers me his seat, his eyebrows cocked questioningly.

My heart stops. Literally. For a second, my pulse disappears from my body, like it’s been yanked somewhere else — toward him.

My wolf stirs, slow and heavy like a creature waking from years of sleep. She’s been quiet for so long, half-asleep in the corners of my mind. But now she’s suddenly there, wide-eyed and breathing hard.

Mate.

" Aiden Withlock," I repeat, testing his name on my lips.

Yeah, that’s him. The boy from my birthday .The one who left. The one who rejected me.

The word crashes through me like lightning. It’s not a whisper. It’s a declaration.

My lips part but no sound comes out. I feel heat lick up my neck, spreading across my chest. Not just attraction. It’s magnetic. Almost unbearable. My body pulls toward him like it's forgotten I ever had a choice.

He doesn’t flinch.

His gaze meets mine — cool, calm, utterly indifferent and maybe even a bit bored.

No recognition. No pull. Nothing.

He just looks at me like I’m nobody.

I blink. I must look completely stunned because Eva mutters under her breath beside me, “Don’t fall for it. He does this all the time.”

I can't answer. I can't even breathe.

Aiden holds my gaze for a second longer — one second too long — then turns and walks out of the room like it means absolutely nothing.

Like I’m just another girl.

Eva sighs, dropping into the seat beside the one he gave me. “Another excuse to skip class. Classic.”

But I’m not listening anymore.

The alarm rings and the teacher walks in, announcing herself through the shuffles and noise but I don't pay attention.

I just stare at the door my mate passed through , sitting in the seat he left behind, hands clenched tight in my lap. His scent still lingers on the chair — cold pine, sandalwood and something that smells oddly like cigarette...

My body hums with it. My wolf won’t stop repeating it, Mate, Mate, Mate, over and over, like a curse.

Stay low . I remind myself.

Love is overrated.