CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Academy halls were quieter now, the chaos of check-in fading into the background. Rian moved along the curved corridor, the weight of her satchel pressing harder against her shoulder with every step. Her fingers gripped the strap tightly, knuckles pale beneath her gloves. Each footfall echoed faintly off the stone floor, rhythmic and deliberate, as if the sound could anchor her racing thoughts.

She reached the hallway labeled Residential Hall 3 – Elite Wing, carved into the wood with clean, sharp lines. The air here was different—cooler, stiller. Power clung to the walls like a living presence, thick and pressing, stirring her wolf beneath her skin. Her wolf remained alert but quiet, sensing the tension woven into the very stones of this wing.

Rian paused before a heavy oak door. Her dorm assignment still felt like a cruel joke playing on repeat in her head:

Room 3-A — Rian Greythorn & Kael Stormvale

Her stomach twisted again.

Kael Stormvale. The name echoed like a war drum through her bones.

She'd never seen him before, but she’d heard enough—whispers from other recruits, sharp warnings from Seth, and the dire words etched into the handbook Mira had slipped into her satchel. Kael wasn’t just feared. He was legend.

And now, he was her dorm mate.

Rian exhaled slowly and turned the brass handle. The door gave way with a soft groan, revealing a space larger than she’d expected. The dorm room was clearly meant for the elites—nothing like the bunk-style accommodations she'd envisioned.

It opened into a main living area with vaulted ceilings, warm oak beams, and two cushioned chairs arranged around a stone hearth. Shelves lined the far wall, mostly bare, save for a few scattered academy manuals and empty glass jars. To the left, a door led to an en-suite bathroom. To the right, a short hallway with two closed doors—bedrooms.

She stepped inside slowly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

The room smelled of new timber and aged parchment—but underneath it, another scent hit her like a wall. Dominant. Sharp. Cold fire and shadow. Her wolf immediately bristled, recognizing the territorial mark embedded in the space.

Kael had already claimed it.

She moved toward the bedroom doors, heart thudding in her chest. The one on the left stood slightly ajar, and through the crack, she could make out a meticulously folded set of Academy robes on the bed, a pair of boots neatly aligned beneath a simple dresser. His room.

The door on the right, by contrast, was untouched.

She pushed it open, cautiously. A simple bed, desk, and closet waited inside. A blank canvas. Relief fluttered weakly in her chest.

She placed her satchel down with care, hands lingering on the strap longer than necessary. She could feel her shoulders beginning to ache from the tension, her jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might lock.

The silence was deafening.

Rian moved back to the main living space and stood in the center, trying to center herself in the quiet. Her hands trembled faintly as she pulled off her gloves and rubbed her palms together.

This was it. This was real.

No more trees to hide behind. No more vague shadows of what might come. She was inside. She’d made it past the checkpoint. Her papers had held. Her scent was masked. Her voice hadn’t cracked.

And yet…

She would be living with the most powerful, most dangerous heir at the Academy.

Her mind raced with every warning she’d heard. Kael didn’t tolerate weakness. He didn’t ask questions—he broke things. Rian had thought she might fade into the background, skirt attention, and survive by being invisible.

But how could she remain invisible when she shared a roof with the predator everyone else avoided?

She sat on the arm of one of the chairs, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. Her hands rested on her knees, fingers twitching. Her wolf paced beneath her skin—uneasy, skittish. The walls felt like they were closing in.

“Just breathe,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

She glanced around the room again. The hearth was unlit. The air carried a chill. A small stack of logs lay by the firepit, and she rose quietly, kneeling beside it. If she could busy her hands, maybe she could quiet her thoughts.

She stacked the wood as silently as possible and struck the iron flint to spark the flame. It caught after a few tries, casting a warm glow across the floor. Shadows danced along the stone and timber, painting the room in flickering amber.

Rian sat back on her heels, watching the fire.

She hadn’t meant to make herself this vulnerable—not yet. She had planned to set her things down, memorize the exits, and retreat into observation. But the reality of the room hit harder than she expected. She was alone. And she was scared.

She hated admitting that. Even in silence. Even to herself.

But no one had ever gotten this close to her before. No one would ever be closer than Kael. He’d see her habits, her movements, the way she slept, how often she bathed, how she interacted. Any of it could give her away. A single misstep and everything would crumble.

The scent blockers worked now—but for how long?

She leaned back against the edge of the chair and let her head tip to the side, letting the firelight brush against her cheek.

She had survived so much to get here.

She had watched her home burn, buried her name in the ashes, and worn the mask of a boy to escape the noose of an arranged bond. Her mother’s voice rang in her ears like a sacred vow: “Don’t let them cage you like they caged me.”

So she had run. Fled the chains. Chosen this path, even if it might lead to worse.

She closed her eyes.

She had to survive this. No matter what Kael was. No matter what threats lay ahead. She would endure it.

Even him.

A sound broke the quiet—a shift in the air, followed by the low creak of the outer door swinging open.

Rian’s eyes snapped open. Her heart dropped like a stone into her gut.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Measured.

Deliberate.

She pushed herself to her feet too quickly, her knees nearly buckling. She spun toward the sound, breath catching in her throat.

The door opened fully, and he stepped inside.

Kael Stormvale.

The first thing she noticed was the silence that followed him in. The very air seemed to bend around him, as if unwilling to make a sound in his presence. He was tall—taller than she imagined—with shoulders like carved stone beneath the sleek black Academy uniform. His raven-dark hair was cropped close at the sides but swept longer on top, shadowing cold, calculating eyes the color of a winter storm.

His expression was unreadable. Not emotionless—but controlled. Still. Like the calm before lightning struck.

He closed the door behind him without breaking stride, his eyes sweeping across the room. They landed on her.

Rhea didn’t flinch, but she did straighten. Her palms were still resting on the edge of the armrest, but her entire body was wound tight beneath the surface, a taut wire waiting to snap. She met his gaze head-on, just as any boy might—measured, neutral, and respectful. Not submissive. Not defiant. Just enough.

Kael Stormvale studied her in silence for a moment, the air thickening around him as though his presence alone could alter its weight. His steps were deliberate, controlled, like a predator too bored to rush its kill.

“You’re in my room,” he said, voice low and calm.

Rhea swallowed her instinctual panic. Her voice, when it came, was roughened slightly—her practiced masculine tone holding steady.

“Our room,” she corrected, then quickly added, “I was assigned here.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

He dropped his bag on the floor with a muted thud. “They didn’t mention a roommate.”

She stayed silent, knowing nothing she said would make him like the situation any better.

Kael swept his eyes across the space—the high ceilings, the clean gray stone walls, the two closed doors leading to separate bedrooms. His gaze caught on her pack placed carefully on the foot of the unclaimed bed. Then he looked back at her.

“You took the left room.”

“I did.”

He hummed, more breath than sound. “Figures.”

She didn’t respond. His tone wasn’t accusatory. More like… annoyed. Displeased at the inconvenience. Rhea couldn’t blame him. From what Seth had said, Kael was used to getting his way—and used to getting it alone.

Kael walked past her slowly, his shoulder almost brushing hers. He didn’t bother taking off his coat, though the room was warm. He stood in front of the windows for a moment, looking out at the courtyard beyond. Then turned.

His gaze pinned her again.

“You’re new,” he said.

She nodded. “Rian Greythorn. Redmere Pack.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. It was in Eastwood. Destroyed in a rogue attack four years ago.”

She let the words fall flat and empty, as if she’d recited them a dozen times. There was a brief flicker in his eyes—recognition? Curiosity?—but it vanished quickly.

“Orphan?”

“Yeah.”

“You come here looking for rank?” His tone held a thread of disdain.

“No,” she said simply. “Just survival.”

He arched a brow at that, as if surprised she didn’t try to bluster or posture like the others.

Smart. He was assessing her. She could feel it like a pressure, like a hand gripping the back of her neck.

“Strange,” he said at last.

“What is?”

“You don’t smell like fear,” Kael murmured, his head tilting slightly as if testing the air again. “But you look like you should.”

Rhea’s throat tightened. Mira’s scent blockers were holding—thank the goddess—but that didn’t mean she was in the clear. Wolves were sensitive to more than scent. They picked up on posture, tone, micro-expressions.

Kael didn’t move closer, but he didn’t look away either.

“You’re hiding something,” he said bluntly, like he was stating the weather. “I don’t care what. Just don’t let it involve me.”

Rhea met his gaze. “I don’t want trouble.”

His mouth twisted into something that might’ve been a smirk. “Everyone says that. Until they bring it.”

He turned and walked toward his room, opening the door with one hand and pausing before stepping inside.

“If you snore,” he added dryly, “I’ll fix it.”

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Rhea exhaled, slowly and carefully. Her legs trembled slightly, and she backed away from the chair, letting her body fold into itself as she sank to sit on the floor, out of sight from both bedroom doors.

Kael Stormvale.

Her dorm mate.

Of all the names Seth had warned her about, his had come with the most vicious edge. Unforgiving. Violent. Born of legacy and blood. She had hoped, desperately, that proximity would be avoidable.

But now?

She was living with him.

She pressed her hands to her face, breathing in the artificial, medicinal scent of the blocker ointment still lingering on her skin. Her mind spun with calculations. She would have to monitor every movement, every word, every breath.

One wrong look. One misstep. And he’d know.

And she didn’t doubt for a moment that Kael Stormvale wouldn’t hesitate to rip her throat out the second he suspected anything.

Still seated on the floor, she leaned her head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

Blend in. Endure. Survive.

She repeated it like a prayer.

Because there was no other way now.