Rhea

By the second bell, the academy had turned into one long, petty stage play where I was the villain for daring to breathe. Every hallway was a throat, every whisper a swallow. The enchanted sconces along the corridor flickered with those pale witch flames Silver Ridge loved—moon-cool, steady, judgmental. My feet clicked over rune-laid stone, and the sigils thrummed under my arches like a pulse, like the entire building was taking my measure and filing me under: problematic.

Lila looped her arm through mine before I could bolt. She practically radiated fire, chin high, eyes snapping, daring anyone to make a comment. She didn’t need words to scream fuck around and find out. Bree slipped on my other side, softer, quieter, grounding me with her presence. Nora trailed just behind, her worry written all over her expression, her guilt still a live wire she couldn’t seem to cut.

Every girl behind us leaned forward like piranhas at the glass. Tessa, queen of the unimpressed blond pack, muttered, “Figures,” dripping it with venom. Lila didn’t even blink—her voice came sugar-sweet and lethal.

“Careful, Tessa. Your face will freeze like that, and then what? No mate will ever look past your permanent constipation.”

Snickers rippled. Bree hid a smile behind her hand. Nora flushed red. I wanted to kiss Lila and strangle her at the same time.

Professor Marcellus swept into the classroom, robes flaring dramatically, and silence dropped like a stone. His voice—smooth granite, dangerous if you ignored it—filled the space. Illusion-maps spun above his desk, showing Lycandra’s forests, Lycan’Dra’s crown-spires, Valoria’s twilight rivers, Drakonis’s ash mountains, and finally…the Wilds. The Wilds always seemed to listen.

He spoke of the Great Accord and its anchors, his words sharp enough to etch themselves into bone. Bree leaned in, scribbling notes like her life depended on it. Nora chewed her lip, eyes wide, soaking it all up. Lila tapped her nails against the desk, unimpressed by politics but alert to every shift in the room—every glance shot my way.

When the Myrhal predators appeared in illusion, sliding through flickering wards with too many mouths and not enough eyes, my stomach turned. Bree’s knee pressed gently into mine. Nora’s hand fluttered uselessly in her lap. Lila whispered, “Fix your wards, huh?” and made me laugh even though my throat was tight.

The lecture hall was stifling, a cage of polished obsidian walls and vaulted arches carved with silver runes that pulsed faintly overhead. Each rune thrummed in rhythm with the collective mood, tethered to the wards that blanketed Silver Ridge Academy. They were meant to keep emotions in check—an enchantment to keep dominance flares or heartbreak-fueled outbursts from escalating into full-blown fights. But that didn’t mean the room wasn’t hungry.

Every eye was on me.

Professor Marcellus was in his usual stance at the front, tall and hawk-like, robes trailing as if he’d stepped straight out of Valoria’s twilight courts. His voice carried like steel through water, every syllable clipped and merciless.

“The Accord binds all recognized species—wolves, Lycans, fae, dragons. Bonds and claims are magical contracts. Consent is magic. Lies fray wards. Announcements without bond recognition…” His gaze swept the class, sharp enough to make a few wolves flinch. “…are treason.”

Silence stretched. Heavy. Breathless.

Then came the voice I dreaded—Tessa’s friend, one of her painted little cronies, raising her hand with faux innocence. “Professor, what would the Lycan Kings say if Ridge Storm Alphas claimed a Luna without bond recognition?”

And there it was.

The whole class turned toward me, like hounds scenting blood. A ripple of whispers cut through the hall, the runes overhead flickering faintly with their excitement.

My throat closed. My palms dampened against the desk.

Marcellus didn’t even blink. “The Kings would call it reckless. Dangerous. Magic recognizes truth, and so do wards. False claims invite collapse. The last Alpha who tried such arrogance doomed an entire border city—its protections frayed, its people slaughtered.”

Cold words. No mercy.

My chest tightened. What was the point of their question?  That show of dominance in the courtyard—four Alphas boxing me in, the wards themselves reacting to their pull—every wolf in the Academy had felt it. Heard it. Seen it. They didn’t need to stand on a balcony with trumpets to confirm what was already written across the air.

But apparently, humiliation was the sport of the day.

Lila’s hand slid over mine under the desk, fingers curling tight. Her dark eyes glittered like obsidian fire. “Ignore her,” she hissed.

Bree pressed closer on my other side, her calm like a shield. “They’re baiting you. Don’t bite.”

And Nora—sweet, too-soft Nora—looked like she might cry just from watching me crack.

The bell finally rang, the faint shimmer of sigils in the arches dimming as the wards released us. The scrape of chairs filled the air, but the aisle clogged on purpose, bodies moving like predators closing off every exit.

Tessa stepped into the space before me, her sharp smile dripping with cruelty. Her friends flanked her, blocking the row like guards at a throne.

“So,” she purred, head tilting, curls bouncing like she thought they added to her intimidation. “Wonder what you’ll smell like when they mark you? Iron? Ego? Desperation?”

The words landed like claws down my spine, cutting deeper because everyone was listening. Heads craned closer. Whispers hushed. Even the wards along the wall pulsed faintly, feeding on the tension.

I opened my mouth—but Lila was already moving.

She stepped right up to Tessa, invading her space with a grin so bright it was lethal. “Jealousy,” she said sweetly. “Like a cheap candle. Overpowering, makes your eyes water, and burns out in an hour.”

The hallway erupted. Laughter rippled through the crowd, sharp and stifled, some not even trying to hide it. Someone actually whispered, “Cheap candle,” like they’d be telling that joke for weeks.

Tessa’s smile faltered, her sigil flaring briefly dull and cracked on the wall behind her—humiliation in real time.

Her eyes burned with fury, but she couldn’t salvage it. She muttered something sharp, spun on her heel, and stalked off, her cronies scrambling to follow.

Lila’s hand was already on my arm, tugging me forward through the parted crowd. “Let them choke on it, Rhee,” she muttered, her grin wicked and victorious.

Bree’s touch brushed my shoulder as she followed, steady as ever. “They don’t define you. Remember that.”

And Nora, voice quiet but firm, whispered, “We’ve got you.”

The wards thrummed overhead, their glow faint but steady, as if even the magic had chosen sides.

* * *

We spilled into the corridor, where the enchanted moonwillows swayed across the North Lawn and glamoured fountains glittered in patterns too slow for natural water. Bree murmured something thoughtful about the wards humming differently today. Nora just hugged her books like a shield. Lila looked at me, saw too much, and said softly, “You’re okay?”

“Standing,” I said. My voice didn’t shake.

That’s when Finn and Evan showed up. Finn, cocky grin plastered across his face, arms spread like he was my personal saviour. “Future Luna!” he announced, loud enough for half the courtyard to whip their heads around. “You survived morning classes without punching anyone. I’m impressed.”

“Finn,” Lila groaned, rolling her eyes.

“What? I’m being supportive,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me. “Want an iced moonbrew to celebrate your restraint?”

Bree’s mouth twitched like she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or amused. Evan only lifted a brow, his quiet calm cutting through Finn’s chaos. “She doesn’t need a spotlight,” he said softly.

But the spotlight was coming whether I wanted it or not. The hum in the air shifted. Dominance rippled across the courtyard like a tide. Students stilled. Heads bowed instinctively.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

The Caine brothers hadn’t even stepped out through the gates fully, but the academy knew. Callum moved like law itself, unreadable, unshakable, every line of his body screaming authority. Jaxon’s gaze locked on me with the cold precision of a predator who’d already decided his prey. Rory leaned lazily into his stride, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—never missed a single reaction around us. And Seth? That bastard grinned like this was all entertainment, like the death glares from the girls around us were a show just for him.

Every student in the courtyard bowed to that presence without thinking. Every student except me.

I picked up my iced moonbrew, shoulders square, chin high, and muttered to Lila, “Standing.”

She smirked. “Good. Keep standing.”