Rhea

The ride to Silver Ridge Academy felt like being chauffeured by a pack of bodyguards who couldn’t agree on how much space to give me.

Callum drove, steady hands on the wheel, shoulders tense like he was holding back a lecture. Rory lounged in the backseat beside me, his thigh pressed casually against mine as if the entire car belonged to him—maybe it did. Seth kept humming some obscene little tune under his breath, tapping out a rhythm on his knee, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds like I was his favourite kind of entertainment. Jaxon? He just stared. Quiet, unrelenting, storm-grey gaze locked on me like I’d vanish if he blinked.

I hated the way my stomach flipped under it. Hated it more because part of me liked it.

The moment we pulled into the academy lot, everything went to hell.

Four towering Alphas and one very reluctant Luna stepped out of a black SUV, and the world noticed. Students froze mid-step. Conversations died. Whispers rose like smoke.

And then came the pet names.

“Careful, sunshine,” Jaxon murmured, guiding me out with a hand at my waist.

“Snowflake,” Seth drawled, loud enough for three tables of students to hear, “don’t trip. We don’t want to break hearts this early.”

“Princess,” Rory teased, catching my bag before I could sling it over my shoulder. “Let me.”

And Callum, calm and absolute, sealed it with, “Little Luna, we’ll pick you up after last bell. Don’t make us hunt you.”

Every head in the lot turned. Every whisper sharpened.

Heat burned my cheeks. I didn’t even know why they called me those names. Sunshine. Snowflake. Princess. Little Luna. Like they already had four different versions of me memorized, none of which I understood.

I wanted to scream at them to stop. But my chest tugged, sparks under my skin where their hands brushed mine, and all I could do was walk faster toward the gates.

“Have a good day, little Luna,” Callum said, his voice steady, low, the kind of tone that left no room for argument.

I didn’t look back.

* * *

By mid-morning, my pulse finally settled. Almost.

The Shifting Fields stretched behind the academy like an ancient arena carved into the earth. The ground was stamped with sigils, glowing faintly silver where they’d been etched deep into stone. Each rune thrummed with old magic, holding back the raw violence of shifters who lost control. Fae wards shimmered faintly above us, like spider-silk stretched over the sky.

Professor Brannick stood at the center, broad shoulders rigid, his voice booming across the field. “Today we test your partial control. A wolf that cannot control its shift is a danger—to its pack, to its mate, to itself.”

My stomach flipped. Partial control. That meant showing sparks of the shift—eyes, claws, maybe even bone-snaps if the magic surged too hard. I’d barely practiced.

Around me, wolves lined up in formation. Packs pressed close together, murmuring encouragement. Bree, Nora, and Lila took their places on either side of me, their presence the only thing keeping me from bolting.

“You’ve got this,” Bree whispered, her brown eyes warm.

“Don’t puke,” Lila added with a smirk.

Nora squeezed my arm, worry shadowing her face.

Brannick’s gaze swept the line. It landed on me. Of course it did. “Scholarship wolf,” he barked. “Step forward.”

My feet felt like lead as I walked to the center. Every stare followed me. Whispers licked at my ears.

“She doesn’t even look strong enough.”

“Bet she cracks before the shift takes.”

“Why would the quads claim her?”

My throat closed, but I straightened anyway.

“Focus,” Brannick commanded. “Summon the wolf.”

I closed my eyes. Reached inside. Found the spark of silver heat that always flickered in my chest, too faint, too hesitant.

Sparks flared. My claws pricked through my skin, silver-tipped. My breath came sharp as my vision blurred, colours sharpening into too-bright clarity.

Gasps rippled.

For a second—just a second—I felt it. Power. The wolf rising.

And then—chaos.

A crack of dominance hit the wards, not mine. Overpowering. The runes flared bright, pulsing with warning.

I staggered, on the sudden weight pressing down on me.

Four signatures. Familiar. Overwhelming.

The quads.

Even from beyond the academy grounds, their dominance rippled like a storm, their wolves clawing at the wards to reach me.

The whispers turned to outright stares.

“She’s theirs.”

“Moon Goddess save us.”

“She won’t survive them.”

Brannick’s jaw tightened. “Control yourself!”

I tried. Goddess, I tried. My wolf strained against me, desperate to answer theirs, but the runes burned, fighting to contain it.

Pain split through my chest. I dropped to my knees, claws retracting, breath ragged.

And just like that—it was over.

The whispers rose again, crueler now.

“She’s weak.”

“She can’t even handle a partial.”

But over the ringing in my ears, one truth thundered louder:

The bond was real. The pull undeniable. But there was also something else.

And if I wasn’t careful, it was going to eat me alive.