First Day At School

+ Medora

"Did you hear? The Lyke brothers' bride is starting today."

The whisper hit the back of my neck before I even crossed the threshold of the classroom. My winter boots suddenly felt cemented to the linoleum, and a chill ghosted over my skin, prompting me to pull my coat tighter against my chest.

They knew.

Being a breeder wasn't exactly a title I wanted stamped on a name tag, so I tucked my chin down and forced my legs to move.

The lecture hall was massive, a sweeping curve of tiered seating descending toward a heavy wooden podium. It smelled of chalk dust and damp wool. I bypassed the crowded rows and claimed a desk in the very back corner. It was safer there; people wouldn't have to look at me.

Squeezing into the attached chair was war. My hips barely fit between the metal armrests, the cold plastic digging into my thighs as I wedged myself in. I fixed my eyes on the deep scratches gouged into the fake wood grain, rounding my shoulders forward in a desperate bid to look smaller.

But hiding is a joke when you take up this much space.

Shadows fell over my desk, eclipsing the harsh fluorescent light above. A cloying cloud of vanilla perfume and expensive hair gloss rolled over me. I didn’t need to look up at their faces to know why they were standing there. Instead, I stared at their shoes, pristine white sneakers, without a single scuff or smear of mud on the rubber soles.

"Are you lost?" the girl in the middle asked, her voice dripping with boredom. "The Omega building is next door. This is an Alpha and Beta lecture hall."

Keeping my hands flat against the scratched desk, I finally dragged my gaze up to meet hers. "I'm Medora. I'm assigned to this class."

The girl on the left scoffed, leaning in so close the vanilla scent became suffocating. "You shouldn't be in here. You're taking up two seats just breathing."

I swallowed the heavy lump forming in my throat.

She raised a hand, turning her palm toward my cheek. I didn't flinch. Instead, my brain automatically calculated the angle of the strike, preparing to roll my jaw to minimise the inevitable bruising. I’d had years of practice back at the pack house; my mother never resorted to slapping, but Vanessa had a nasty habit of throwing wooden hairbrushes.

But the strike never came. Her hand hovered mid-air before she lowered it with a disgusted huff.

"I won't even slap you," she muttered. "I'd just soil my hands on your grease."

A tight, dry smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. I didn't mind the insult, frankly preferring my jaw intact, so I just let the silence stretch. They were hunting for a reaction, tears, a stuttered apology, anything to feed on, but I had nothing left to give them.

The third girl squinted, tilting her head as she studied my face. "Wait. I've seen her before." She jabbed a sharp finger toward my chest. "You're Vanessa's sister. The fat, unruly girl from the valley pack. The one who doesn't know her place."

My lungs seized. The edges of my vision blurred as panic spiked.

They knew about the wedding. 

Gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned stark white, I braced myself for the punchline. I waited for them to announce my new, degrading reality to the entire lecture hall.

"Imagine being related to someone as perfect as Vanessa," the middle girl laughed, her voice cruel and bright. "No wonder they keep you hidden away."

A slow, shaky breath escaped my lips, and a wave of profound relief washed over my rigid shoulders. They didn't know about Ironholt. To them, I was just the embarrassing family secret. I could survive that. I had survived it my entire life. Slowly, I let my jaw unclench.

A sudden commotion at the front of the hall broke the tension as the heavy double doors swung wide.

A tall girl strolled in, draped in a flawlessly tailored wool coat and carrying a leather bag that likely cost more than my entire life's medical bills. She was the local Beta's daughter, thin, delicate, and built exactly like the heroines in cheap romance novels.

Instantly, my tormentors forgot I existed. They practically tripped over their spotless sneakers in their rush toward the front row.

"She has to be the bride," the vanilla-scented girl stage-whispered. "Look at her coat. The Lykes definitely bought that."

They swarmed the newcomer like flies, offering her the best seat in the center tier and fawning over her perfectly styled hair. The mean one even pointed back at my corner. "Don't worry about the smell. The unruly Omega in the back won't bother you. We already put her in her place."

Glancing over her shoulder, the Beta's daughter locked eyes with me. She didn't correct their wild assumption. Instead, her lips curled into a slow, smug smirk, visibly soaking in the attention and the borrowed power.

I smiled back, and this time, it was entirely genuine. If she wanted to play the role of the Lyke brothers' bride, she was welcome to it. I certainly wasn't going to fight her for the danger. Let them think she belonged to Ironholt; it meant they would leave me alone to disappear.

The rest of the afternoon dissolved into a blur of dry lectures on pack history and economics. When the final bell mercifully rang, I stuffed my belongings into my canvas bag and headed out to the curb, letting the biting winter wind wake me up.

A black SUV was already idling beside a snowbank. The driver, a quiet Beta with greying hair, stood patiently by the back door. He didn't ask about my day or look at my body with the usual cocktail of pity and disgust. He just opened the door, letting me climb into the sanctuary of the warm leather interior.

The drive up the mountain was wonderfully, blissfully silent. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and watched the university town shrink into the distance as the pines grew taller and choked out the sky. 

As the snow piled thicker against the roadside, a strange sense of peace settled over me. I wasn't heading back to my mother's harsh criticisms. I was returning to the closest thing to safety I had ever known.

When we pulled up to the main house, the driver offered a single nod before steering the vehicle toward the back garage.

The moment I stepped inside, the absolute stillness of the house hit me. The brothers were out. I didn't bother asking the staff where they had gone, mostly because I didn't want to know. I just climbed the dark, groaning staircase straight to my bedroom.

The radiator purred in the corner, its heat wrapping around me like a heavy blanket the second I clicked the door shut. Too exhausted to care, I didn't unpack my bag or even change my clothes. 

I just kicked off my boots, burrowed under the heavy gray covers, and let sleep claim me before the sun had even finished sinking behind the peaks.

I woke up violently shivering.

The comforting hiss of the radiator was gone, leaving the room aggressively cold. Frost seemed to seep straight through the dense blankets, biting at my skin as I bolted upright. The house was pitch black; not even a sliver of light bled under the doorframe from the hallway.

Kenzo's casual warning echoed in the back of my mind: The main generator cuts at midnight.

My throat felt lined with dry sand. Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I gasped as my bare feet hit the icy floorboards. I fumbled for the heavy metal flashlight on the nightstand, my thumb finally finding the switch. With a sharp click, a narrow beam of light pierced the suffocating darkness.

Easing my door open, I peered into the hallway, a vast, hollow tunnel of black space where the silence pressed heavily against my eardrums. Scary much.

I moved at a slow pace, keeping the flashlight angled directly at my toes. My bare feet didn't make a single sound against the floor. Years of navigating past my mother's bedroom had turned me into a ghost in the dark.

Gripping the freezing wooden bannister, I descended to the main floor. The chill down here was significantly worse, radiating off the walls and pooling along the floor. I steered myself toward the kitchen, intent on stealing a quick glass of water without turning on any overhead lights, just in case the Alphas had returned.

As I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I froze.

A sound scraped down the length of the hallway.

It was a quiet groan, which was too loud in my ears. I instantly killed the flashlight.

Absolute, blinding darkness swallowed me whole. Holding my breath, I pressed my spine flat against the freezing wall, listening to my heart hammer against my ribs.

It was coming from the dead end of the narrow corridor. Kaz's study.

Don't even touch the handle, Kenzo had warned me on my first day. It's strictly off-limits.

Every survival instinct I possessed screamed at me to turn around, to run back upstairs, bury myself under the blankets, and pretend I simply didn't exist. 

But for some reason, my feet refused to retreat.

I reached the end of the hall. The door to Kaz's study sat slightly ajar. Pressing my bare hand flat against the wood, I leaned an inch closer to the crack.

"What's that?"