CHAPTER 3

Alisa’s POV

My room was on the third floor, number 314, and thankfully the door opened without any drama.

The space was larger than my old room at the pack house, with two beds, two desks, and a small shared bathroom. One side was clearly unoccupied, so I claimed the bed by the window and unpacked my meager belongings.

A fresh start, I told myself, looking around the empty space. No one here knows who I am or where I came from.

With my things settled, restlessness took over. I needed to familiarize myself with the military academy layout before classes started tomorrow. The campus was massive—multiple training facilities, academic buildings, and what looked like recreational areas scattered across manicured grounds.

Students moved between buildings in small groups, their conversations a mix of excitement and nervous energy. I caught glimpses of different uniforms denoting class years and specializations. Everyone looked confident, purposeful.

Do I look like I belong here? The question nagged at me as I walked past a group of senior students who barely glanced my way.

The main building housed administrative offices, a massive library, and what appeared to be social areas. I was exploring the upper floors when I heard music and laughter coming from behind ornate double doors marked "VIP Lounge."

Through the glass panels, I could see an elegant space with plush seating, ambient lighting, and—

My breath caught. There, lounging on a leather sofa with a drink in hand, was Hank Hunter.

The Hank Hunter. Celebrity werewolf, actor, and rumored to be one of the strongest young Alphas of his generation. His blonde hair caught the light as he laughed at something someone said, and even from a distance, his presence was magnetic.

What's he doing here? I knew he was young, maybe twenty, but I'd assumed someone of his status would have private tutors or attend some exclusive military academy.

I was about to continue my exploration when a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the lounge doors.

"Hey! What are you—" I started to protest, but the person was already pushing me through the entrance.

"Perfect timing," a voice said behind me. "He's been waiting."

Before I could process what was happening, I found myself standing in the middle of the elegant lounge, face to face with Hank Hunter and several other young men who were staring at me with varying degrees of interest and amusement.

The room was warm—almost stifling—with the scent of expensive cologne and alcohol heavy in the air. Dim lighting cast everything in golden hues, and I suddenly felt very out of place in my simple military academy uniform.

"Well, well..finally a little girl arrived," Hank's voice was smooth, with an undertone that made my skin crawl. "Finally decided to show up, did you?"

I blinked, confusion replacing my initial shock. "Excuse me? I think there's been a mistake—"

"Oh, don't play coy now." He gestured lazily toward a small raised platform in the corner of the room where I noticed a pole installed. "You're here to entertain us, aren't you? The agency said you'd be here an hour ago."

The agency? My mind raced as I realized what he was implying. Heat flooded my cheeks—part embarrassment, part rage.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm a student here. I was just exploring the campus."

Hank's laugh was rich and condescending. "A student? Come on, sweetheart. Drop the innocent act. We all know why you're really here."

One of his friends—a guy with dark hair and an expensive watch—snorted. "She's really committing to the role, isn't she?"

"I'm not acting!" The words came out sharper than I intended. "I don't know what sick arrangement you think you have, but I'm not part of it."

Hank stood up, his tall frame imposing as he moved closer. "Look, I paid good money for the call girl tonight. So why don't you stop wasting time and start doing what you're paid for, shake your ass on our mouth and please open your shirt. We want to lick alcohol through your boobs."

The casual arrogance in his voice, the assumption that I was there for his pleasure, the way he looked at me like I was an object—it all combined into a white-hot fury that burned away my shock.

"You know what?" I stepped closer, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "For someone who's supposedly famous and accomplished, you're remarkably stupid."

His eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I said you're stupid. Dense. Thick-skulled. Pick your favorite synonym." I gestured around the room. "You see a girl walk into a room and immediately assume she's here to strip for you? That says more about your sad, pathetic worldview than it does about me."

The room went silent except for the soft music playing in the background. Hank's friends exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to react.

"You have some nerve—" Hank started, but I cut him off.

"Oh, I'm just getting started." I smiled sweetly. "Tell me, do you practice being this obnoxious, or does it come naturally? Because I have to say, for an Alpha, you're giving off some serious insecure energy right now."

His face darkened. "Watch your mouth, you little—"

"What? You'll do what exactly?" I laughed, the sound sharp in the tense air. "Call your agency and complain that your entertainment has opinions? How embarrassing for you."

"You don't know who you're talking to," another voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a man who looked a few years older than Hank, with dark curly hair and red eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. Even sitting down, his presence was commanding, and I could sense the Alpha power radiating from him.

Another Hunter brother, I realized. This had to be Hughs, the eldest. The professor.

"Actually, I do know," I said, turning to face him. "You're Hughs Hunter, aren't you? The big, important professor everyone's supposed to be impressed by?"

He stood slowly, his movements controlled and precise. "And you're a scheming little opportunist who thought she could get close to my brother by playing innocent."

Scheming? The accusation hit like a slap. "Are you serious right now?"

"Please. You just happened to wander into a private lounge? You just happened to be here when my brother was expecting... company?" His voice was cold, analytical. "You calculated this whole interaction."

"You're both insane," I said, looking between them. "I was exploring the campus. I saw someone I recognized and got curious. That's literally it."

"Sure you were," Hank said, his earlier playfulness replaced by something nastier. "Just a poor little innocent girl who accidentally stumbled into the big bad Alphas' den."

"You know what your problem is?" I asked, my voice rising. "You're so used to people kissing your ass that you can't imagine someone who genuinely doesn't give a damn about your celebrity status or your Alpha posturing."

"Careful," Hughs warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "You're testing limits you don't want to cross."

"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, you both look like spoiled children who've never been told 'no' in your lives." I grabbed a wine bottle from the nearby table. "Here's a news flash—not everyone is impressed by your money or your bloodlines or your sad little power games."

The bottle felt solid in my hands as I raised it. "Maybe this will help you remember that not every woman you meet is here for your entertainment."

I hurled the bottle at the wall behind them, where it shattered in a spectacular spray of glass and red wine. The crash echoed through the room like a gunshot.

"Oops," I said with mock innocence. "How clumsy of me."

Then I ran.

I bolted from the lounge, my heart hammering as I heard shouts behind me. Heavy footsteps followed, but I knew these hallways better than they did—I'd spent the last hour memorizing them.

I ducked into a supply closet and held my breath, listening as someone ran past. Only when the footsteps faded did I dare to emerge.

What have I done? The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me shaky and slightly nauseous. I just threw a wine bottle at the Hunter brothers on my first day.

But underneath the fear, I felt something else. Pride, maybe. Or satisfaction. They'd treated me like garbage, made assumptions about me, and I'd stood up for myself.

I'm not the same girl who used to hide in her room, I realized. I'm not going to let anyone treat me like that again.

When I finally made it back to my room, I found my roommate had arrived. She was a petite girl with short brown hair and kind eyes, unpacking clothes into the other wardrobe.

"Hi!" she said brightly when she saw me. "You must be Ailsa. I'm Jenny Rodriguez. I'm so excited to be roommates!"

Her enthusiasm was genuine, but I couldn't bring myself to match it. She seems nice, I thought, but so did Melody, once upon a time.

"Nice to meet you," I said politely, but I could hear the distance in my own voice.

Jenny's face fell slightly. "Are you okay? You look a little... stressed."

"Just tired from moving in," I lied, settling onto my bed. "Long day."

"Oh, of course!" She brightened again. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. I've been looking forward to having a roommate. It gets lonely sometimes, you know?"

I nodded noncommittally and turned toward my desk, effectively ending the conversation. I could feel her watching me for a moment before she returned to her unpacking, the cheerful energy dimmed.

I hate this, I thought, staring at my reflection in the dark window. I hate not being able to trust anyone.