Chapter Four

Chapter 4:

First Blood

Dinner was torture disguised as a meal.

The food itself was incredible—roasted meats, fresh vegetables, fruits I'd never seen before, desserts that looked like edible art. But eating while being watched by predators killed any appetite I might have had. Every bite felt like performance art. Every movement was scrutinized.

"Don't look at them," Sophie whispered, though she was stealing glances herself. "I heard if you make too much eye contact, they take it as a challenge."

"Or an invitation," the girl across from us added. She had red hair and more freckles than skin. "I'm Mia, by the way. Mia O'Brien."

"Aria," I replied, though my attention was on the strange tingling at the back of my neck. Someone was watching me still, I could feel their gaze like fingertips trailing down my spine.

"Did you see the one with white-blonde hair?" another girl gushed. "I heard his name is Lysander Westbrook. His family basically owns the Western Territories."

"The one with silver eyes is Raven Eastwood," Mia supplied, apparently a fountain of gossip. "They say he can see into your soul. Know every lie you've ever told."

"And the honey-blonde one is Zephyr Southwind," Sophie added, getting into the spirit. "Supposedly he's charming enough to make you forget your own name."

"What about Kaine?" I asked, immediately regretting it when they all turned to stare at me.

"Kaine Northwood doesn't need introduction," Mia said slowly. "He's... well, he's Kaine. Next in line to be Alpha King if anything happens to the current one. Which, given the politics lately, might be sooner than anyone thinks."

"Politics?"

She lowered her voice. "You didn't hear this from me, but there are rumors of unrest. Some packs think the Alpha King has gotten too soft, too accommodating to humans. They want the old ways back."

"The old ways?"

"When humans were prey, nothing more." She shuddered. "My cousin graduated from here three years ago. She said tensions were bad then, but they've gotten worse. The academy is supposed to be neutral ground, but—"

A sharp crack interrupted her. Everyone fell silent as a figure rose from the faculty table at the far end of the hall. She was elegant in a terrifying way, with steel-gray hair pulled into a severe bun and eyes that missed nothing.

"Welcome, new students, to Crimson Moon Academy." Her voice carried without effort, filling the massive space. "I am Headmistress Valdris. You are here because you have been chosen. Selected from thousands to receive an education unlike any other. Some of you will excel. Some of you will fail. Some of you..."

Her pause was deliberate, her gaze sweeping across the human tables.

"Some of you will not survive the year."

Nervous laughter rippled through our section, quickly dying when we realized she wasn't joking.

"Tomorrow, your real education begins. Tonight, you will rest, acclimate, and prepare yourselves for what's to come. A word of warning: Crimson Moon Academy rewards strength, cunning, and adaptability. It has no patience for weakness, stupidity, or defiance. Choose your path wisely."

She sat back down, apparently done with her welcome speech. Conversation slowly resumed, though more subdued than before.

"Not survive?" Sophie squeaked. "What does she mean, not survive?"

"It's just intimidation tactics," Jenny said from further down the table, though she looked pale. "They're trying to scare us into submission."

"Is it working?" Ethan asked. He'd appeared at our table without me noticing, sliding into an empty seat beside Mia.

"You're not supposed to be at the girls' table," Mia hissed.

"I'm not in the girls' dormitory, so technically I'm not breaking any rules." He grabbed an apple from the center spread. "Besides, the conversation here is much more interesting."

"You're going to get us in trouble," Sophie worried.

"Only if someone reports me." He took a bite of the apple, his eyes finding mine. "You don't look scared, Aria."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Yes," he agreed, and something in his tone made me think we weren't talking about fear anymore. "They certainly can."

A shadow fell across our table. We looked up to find Kaine standing there, having moved from the elevated section without anyone noticing. This close, his presence was overwhelming—power and danger wrapped in a pretty package.

"Mr. Cross," he said pleasantly, though his golden eyes were anything but. "You seem to be lost."

"Not lost," Ethan replied, not even bothering to look up. "Just exploring my options."

"Your options are simple: return to your assigned table or face consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

Kaine smiled, and several people actually scooted away from our table. "The kind that leave scars."

Ethan finally looked up, and I saw that flash again—his green eyes going gold for just a second. "Physical or emotional?"

"Both."

They stared at each other for a long moment, some kind of silent battle of wills. Then Ethan shrugged, stood, and walked back to the boys' table without another word.

Kaine's attention turned to me. "Miss Blackwood."

My name on his lips sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Yes?"

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a request. I looked at Sophie, who was practically vibrating with terror, then stood. Every eye in the dining hall followed us as Kaine led me outside.

The night air was cool and crisp, carrying scents I couldn't identify. The grounds were lit by lanterns that floated without visible support, casting everything in soft, shifting light.

"Tell me," Kaine said as we walked, "what do you know about Crimson Moon Academy?"

"Only what everyone knows. It's a place where humans and werewolves learn together. Where alliances are formed."

"Lies," he said simply. "Pretty lies wrapped in prettier propaganda, but lies nonetheless."

I said nothing, waiting.

"Would you like to know the truth?"

"Would you tell me if I said yes?"

He laughed—a sound that was surprisingly warm. "Clever. I can see why they're interested in you."

"They?"

"My brothers." He gestured vaguely behind us. "Not by blood, but by bond. Zephyr, Raven, and Lysander. We rule this academy, Miss Blackwood. Nothing happens here without our knowledge or permission."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. In the floating lantern light, his golden eyes seemed to glow. "Because you're different. I can sense it. There's something about you that doesn't fit the pattern."

My heart rate spiked, but I forced it back down using Nana's techniques. "I'm nobody special."

"No?" He moved closer, circling me slowly. "Then why does your scent confuse me? Why can I hear your heartbeat skip when you lie? Why do you move like prey but feel like a predator?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He was behind me now, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. "Don't you? Tell me, Miss Blackwood, what do you dream about?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." The word was whispered directly into my ear. "You dream of running. Of hunting. Of freedom you've never known but somehow remember."

I spun to face him, but he'd already moved, standing three feet away with his hands in his pockets like he'd never moved at all.

"You should be careful here," he said, his tone conversational again. "Not everyone is as... patient as I am. Some of my kind see humans as toys to be played with until they break. Others see you as food. And a rare few see you as threats to be eliminated."

"Which are you?"

"I haven't decided yet." He started walking back toward the building. "But I will tell you this: whatever you're hiding, we will discover it. And when we do..."

He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder.

"When we do, you'll either become the most powerful human in this academy, or you'll be destroyed completely. There is no middle ground at Crimson Moon."

He disappeared inside, leaving me alone with the floating lanterns and the weight of his warning.

I stood there for a long moment, letting the cool air calm my racing thoughts. Everything was happening too fast. The selection, the journey, the princes' attention—it was all too much, too coordinated to be coincidence.

Someone had orchestrated this. The question was who, and why.

A howl split the night—long, mournful, and far too close for comfort. Then another joined it, and another, until the air itself seemed to vibrate with the sound.

I should have been terrified. Any sane human would be.

Instead, something deep inside me wanted to howl back.

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