Chapter One – The Ice Queen

 

Sophie stood alone in a sea of people.

Off to the right of the stage, her spine was straight, chin lifted, face perfectly blank. Cold. Controlled. Untouchable. Her classmates had dubbed her The Ice Queen—a name whispered with both resentment and awe.

Onstage, their lead trainer spoke with thinly veiled excitement.

“This year, we honor a student who has shattered records—achieving the highest merits seen in over three centuries at Wildbourne Academy.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“She’s shown promise since day one, rising above every challenge thrown her way—”

“She,” Pandora hissed nearby. “We all know who it is. Little Miss Perfect.”

Sophie didn’t flinch.

When her name was called, she moved toward the stage with mechanical precision. Every step rehearsed. Every breath measured. She accepted her silver ring—the symbol of her place among the elite wolf assassins. Most didn’t graduate until twenty-one. Sophie was seventeen.

She hadn’t had the luxury of time.

Her smile, arranged for the cameras, didn’t reach her eyes. To her right, classmates—her bullies—cheered with mock enthusiasm. She nodded in thanks, delivering her pre-written speech with practiced ease.

Only when her gaze found her grandfather did her composure flicker. Lucian sat in the front row, eyes like stone. Cold. Expectant. As always.

She had earned her place—not only as the bloodline heir of the original Werewolf Hunters, but because she had trained harder, longer, with more to prove than anyone else in that room.

The ceremony rolled on. More rings exchanged. More applause. The trainer ended with a smile:

“And before we send our newest Hunters into the world, don’t forget—we celebrate tonight at the Annual Hunters’ Ball. We’ll see you there.”

The crowd erupted.

A weight sank into Sophie’s chest. The Ball. A cage dressed as a celebration.

She descended the stage, heading toward Lucian. Before she could reach him, Rufus Kilsome—the Chairman of the Hunters’ Council and Lucian’s longtime ally—approached, his grin broad and jovial.

“You must be proud of her,” Rufus said.

Lucian’s voice was cold. “I expect nothing less. She is of the original line.”

Rufus chuckled, unbothered. “Still, such accomplishments deserve to be celebrated.” His eyes shifted to Sophie. “Tell me, who’s the lucky young man accompanying you tonight?”

Sophie dipped her head. “Sir, I’ve been focused on my studies. I’ll be accompanying my grandfather, as usual.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Rufus waved a dismissive hand. “My son Jax is here for the Ball. He’s without a date as well.”

Her heart stuttered. Jax Kilsome. A Hunter with a reputation so sharp it bordered on legend.

Before she could protest, Rufus was already gesturing. “Jax!”

He came through the crowd like something conjured. At least 6’2", broad-shouldered, with dirty blonde hair braided at the sides and tied back. Stubble shadowed his strong jaw, but it was his piercing blue eyes—bright, assessing—that caught her breath. When those eyes landed on her, Sophie felt like prey.

“Sophie,” he said, taking her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “An honor. Beauty and brilliance both—tell me, how is someone like you attending alone? Please, let me be your date.”

Sophie’s composure held, though her pulse betrayed her. “I already have a date,” she said softly. “And I would never stand him up.”

Lucian was no date—he was a chain. But she knew the punishment for showing interest in a boy. She had learned early not to look.

Rufus laughed, clapping Lucian’s back. “Us old men will be fine, won’t we? Let the young enjoy the night.”

At that moment, a woman joined them. Rose Kilsome—graceful, elegant, eyes alight with warmth. “Sophie,” she said gently, clasping her hands. “I knew your mother well. You have her strength.”

The words pierced Sophie’s defenses for the briefest second. She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

Rose’s gaze flicked between her son and Sophie. A smile lingered, but behind it—just for a moment—was tension, like a thread pulled taut. Then it was gone, smoothed over with practiced ease.

“Don’t you think Sophie’s a little young for Jax as a date?” Rose asked lightly.

Rufus snorted. “She’s a Hunter now. And besides—Lucian’s even older than I am. What’s a few years between them?”

Sophie’s chest tightened, but she kept her face serene.

Before more could be said, Pandora appeared, gliding over with a smile too sharp to be sweet. Her beauty and popularity made her a favorite among their peers.

“Well,” Pandora said, tilting her head, “our Ice Queen finally melts, does she? How lucky for you, Sophie. Most of us can’t even get her to speak, let alone capture Jax’s attention.”

Her classmates tittered nearby.

Sophie inclined her head, voice calm and measured. “Good evening, Pandora.”

Jax turned, his smile cool. “And you are?”

Pandora faltered, just a fraction, before recovering. “Pandora Vale. Everyone knows me.”

“Hmm,” Jax said, dismissive. “Not everyone worth knowing, I see.” His attention slid back to Sophie like Pandora had ceased to exist.

Heat crept up Pandora’s neck, though she masked it with a brittle laugh. Sophie’s mask held, serene as marble—but inside, for the first time, something stirred.

The world had tilted.