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The First Knock
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2026-01-27 21:37:32The cafeteria buzz had barely faded when I forced myself back into motion. Finn’s words echoed in my head Westbridge doesn’t break you loudly. It does it slowly and strategically.
Classrooms weren’t much better than the chaos of the cafeteria. By the time I trudged through the polished stone corridors toward my next class, the weight of constant observation pressed on me. Every shadow could conceal a watcher and every glance might carry judgment or worse, recognition.
Chemistry and English blurred together. I took notes mechanically, my hands shaking slightly as I gripped my pen. My mind wasn’t on atoms or Shakespeare. It was on the sensation I couldn’t shake the eyes that was watching.
Finally, the bell for the end of classes rang, and I exhaled. At least I’d survived the first full day in the classrooms but the real test awaited elsewhere.
The principal’s office was at the far end of the main building, a high-ceilinged room filled with portraits of past headmasters. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me as I entered. Principal Hawthorne, a tall woman with steel gray hair pulled into a severe bun, looked up from her desk. Her expression was precise, measured, almost unnerving in its calm.
“Eli Morgan?” she asked. Her voice held authority without being harsh. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, keeping my voice low, even, steady. My heart hammered against my ribcage.
She gestured to a chair. “Sit. We need to discuss your placement and behavior expectations.”
I nodded and took a seat, careful to straighten my blazer.
“This is your first day,” she began, “and I expect you to understand the rules immediately. Westbridge tolerates very little, and attention comes with responsibility. Your scholarship marks you as exceptional in some areas, yes, but it also paints a target on you. Other students especially the legacy students will surely test you. To see if you belong.”
I swallowed hard. “And,” she continued, leaning forward slightly, “you will avoid trouble. No exceptions, dorms are not social clubs, classes are not competitions of wit, and you must learn quickly that nothing here is accidental. Everyone observes and everyone evaluates. Everyone waits.”
Something in the room shifted then, a barely perceptible ripple in the air. My instincts screamed watch closely. “Do you understand?” Principal Hawthorne’s eyes locked on mine, and for a terrifying second, I felt as if she could see the truth beneath my mask..“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered.
“Good. Dorm 3,” she said, “is where you’ll stay. It has high visibility. You may think it’s a privilege, but it is a trial. Avoid unnecessary interactions. Keep your head down and do not invite notice. And…” She paused, almost as if weighing whether to say more. “…watch the upperclassmen closely. They are not all human.”
The words landed like cold steel, I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “There are things here, Eli, that even a scholarship student must know. Westbridge is a sanctuary, a school, yes but it is also a hunting ground. Some students are not what they appear and some walk in human form, but their nature is far more primal. Wolves, shifters, creatures from old lineages. You must act carefully, do not draw attention and do not speak of this to your parents. They believe this is an elite academy. They must not know the rest.”
I swallowed so hard it hurt. Creatures? Werewolves?
I knew this already but hearing it from her made me more scared.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, though my pulse raced. Every instinct screamed at me to run but running wasn’t an option.
Hawthorne’s gaze softened fractionally. “You have potential. Do not waste it, the next steps are yours. You are dismissed.”
I left the office with my mind buzzing, every step echoing in the silent hallways. Outside, the courtyard had emptied, the afternoon light casting long shadows across the stone. My chest tightened. Westbridge wasn’t just a school it was a world I didn’t understand and in it, I was prey.
The taxi to Dorm 3 seemed endless. The closer I got, the heavier my chest felt. Finn was waiting outside, slouching casually against the building. When he saw me, relief flickered in his eyes, and I allowed myself a small smile.
“Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the door.
I nodded. “Let’s see it.”
Dorm 3 was quiet, too quiet. The rooms smelled faintly of wood polish and leather, a mix of old money and something wilder underneath, a faint tang, almost metallic, that I couldn’t place.
Finn led me to my room, warning about showers, bathroom schedules, and the dangers of Dorm 3. “Most scholarship students never make it here,” he muttered. “They’re easier to manage in the back dorms. Dorm 3? Legacy territory, old families and sons of shifters, sons of wolves things humans don’t expect. You’ll see.”
The warning hit harder than any lecture. Shifters? Wolves?
He said it casually like I was expected to know about them, the sun had dipped low, and I set my belongings down, careful not to make a sound. Every noise echoed in this dorm, every creak and groan magnified. I didn’t even unpack fully before a sensation crept along my spine a presence, deliberate, powerful, and close.
I froze, the knock came next sharp, deliberate.
Not the polite knock of Finn, or even the casual knocks of human students. This one was measured, deliberate. It didn’t ask permission.
I didn’t answer, I was too scared to stand then, the door creaked open just a crack, and the shadow of someone tall and impossibly broad appeared. Copper hair, eyes glinting like molten gold. Heat radiated from him, not just from his body but from his presence, and my blood ran cold.
“You’re the new kid,” the voice said, smooth and controlled. “Eli Morgan.”
I swallowed. My pulse thundered in my ears. The dorm, the school, the shadows they were all alive watching and waiting.
And I realized, with a chilling certainty, that this wasn’t the first assessment of the day. It was the first warning.
Something in him moved too fluid, too precise and a low, imperceptible growl brushed the edges of my consciousness. Not human, definitely not human.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I knew the real danger at Westbridge Academy had only just begun.
The echo of his footsteps lingered long after he disappeared down the hall. The door clicked shut. I stood there for several seconds, heart hammering so hard it felt bruised. That hadn’t been curiosity. It hadn’t been friendliness either.
It had been assessment, like he hadn’t come to meet me he’d come to check something and that was when it hit me.
This wasn’t just a school. This was territory and someone had already marked me.
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