Chapter 4: Twilight's madman

"Are you supposed to be here?"

A sultry, condescending voice drifted toward her. Aurora turned to see a tall blonde girl striding over with an air of effortless authority.

She probably held some position here, but her expression made one thing clear. She was not friendly.

"I need help," Aurora sighed, keeping her voice simple.

The blonde's perfectly arched brow lifted slightly. "Help?"

"Yeah," Aurora said. "I need to get to the male lodges. I have someone's stuff."

At that, a small group of girls nearby perked up and moved closer, curious.

The blonde's smirk widened, like a predator sensing amusement.

"Let me guess," she purred. "Some little tryout with big dreams?"

Aurora tensed.

The blonde tilted her head. "Why exactly do you want to go there? Hoping to snag yourself a high ranking wolf on your first day?"

The way she looked Aurora up and down made irritation prick at her skin. She already didn't like this girl.

Aurora took a slow breath, keeping her voice calm. "I just need to return something."

"To whom?" the blonde pressed, still smirking. Aurora clutched the bag tighter, debating whether to answer, but the girl waved a dismissive hand before she could.

"Not necessary," she said airily. Then she crossed her arms, her smirk sweet but with an unmistakable bite. "If you're looking for your fellow tryout, go to Preston Lodge."

Aurora hesitated for a moment. The girl must have noticed, because her smile widened. Sugar and venom all at once.

The way she said it felt like both a warning and a test. The girl standing next to her looked like she was about to speak but quickly shut her mouth. Strange.

"That's where all the tryout males are staying, tryout," she added, smacking her lips.

Aurora sighed but refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting. She turned on her heel and walked away, feeling their eyes on her like a pack of wolves circling a lone deer.

---

"I think you went too far this time," one of Chrissy's friends muttered, arms crossed as they watched the newcomer disappear down the hall.

Chrissy flicked her hair over her shoulder, unbothered. "Please," she drawled.

"She's looking for high ranking males to rub shoulders with. Why not send her to the highest one, the prince himself?" the first friend muttered with an evil smirk.

"What'd I miss?" A third girl strolled up, curiosity flashing in her hazel eyes.

The first girl gestured toward the retreating freshman. "Chrissy sent a tryout to Preston."

The newcomer blinked. "Wait. And she actually went?"

"She's not supposed to go there!" another whispered, glancing around nervously.

Chrissy's smirk curled at the edges, her eyes glittering with wicked amusement. "I know."

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And she couldn't wait to watch.

---

Aurora

The male tryout lodge was far more impressive than I imagined. Towering walls of smooth, dark stone. Glittering chandeliers suspended high above. Arched windows catching the last slivers of fading sunlight. Thick, ornate doors that looked like they belonged to a luxurious lodge, not a school dorm.

But more than the grandeur, it was the silence that struck me.

Not just quiet.

Unnaturally silent.

I lingered at the threshold, unsure. For a male lodge, I expected noise. Loud voices, laughter, footsteps. But the entrance loomed before me, empty. The weight of James's bag in my hands suddenly felt heavier.

Maybe I shouldn't be here.

I had no idea where his room was. How was I supposed to find him in a place this massive?

I half turned, ready to walk away.

I had hoped to run into one of the other tryouts, maybe ask them to point me in the right direction. But standing here, I hadn't seen a single soul.

I should just go back.

But then. My backpack.

I groaned under my breath.

Just thinking about what was inside made my stomach twist. Goddess help me, if James had looked through it, even by accident, he'd think I was a freak.

There was still a chance he hadn't. Maybe he'd just dropped it somewhere, unopened.

But the longer he had it, the higher the chance he'd dig into it. Or worse, someone else might.

And if anyone saw the contents.

No. Not happening.

The sooner we swapped bags, the better. For everyone.

I didn't want attention. I didn't want whispers. Back in my pack, I had been the odd one. The freak. And here, I just wanted to blend in, keep my head down, only stand out for the skills that would earn me a place.

I had to try.

I had to get it back myself.

Drawing in a slow, steady breath, I stepped inside.

The change was instant.

The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, cold enough to sting. The air felt dense, heavy with something I couldn't name. Like static electricity right before a storm. It clung to my skin and crawled up my arms.

And the smell.

Overpowering. Musky. Dominant. Like a dozen high ranking males had marked the space with their scent. The kind of power that made your instincts go still.

I shivered as it settled over me, thick and oppressive.

"Hello?" I called, voice quiet and uncertain. It barely echoed past the stone walls.

No answer.

The hallway stretched out ahead, lined with identical doors and polished floors that clicked faintly under my shoes.

I sighed. I should just leave. There were too many rooms, and I had no clue which one was James's.

But my grip on the bag tightened. Every time I thought about turning back, I pictured James's face twisting in confusion. Or disgust.

Then.

Clank.

The sound of something solid hitting stone.

I froze.

It came again, louder this time, followed by a low groan.

It was coming from upstairs.

For a split second, I wondered if that girl had misled me on purpose. Sent me into an empty building just to waste my time.

But someone was here after all.

"Hello?" I called again, louder, moving toward the staircase.

At the top, I stepped into a wide room and came to a halt.

Someone was on the floor.

At first, I couldn't make sense of it. Just the shape of a body, slumped forward.

Then I saw the blood.

His back was bare, streaked in red. A deep gash cut across one shoulder blade, raw and open. He was braced on his hands, chest heaving as he struggled upright.

He staggered, trying to get to his feet, one hand reaching for the edge of a wash basin. His fingers slipped, and he crumpled back down, catching himself awkwardly on one elbow. A few metal weights and pieces of equipment toppled beside him, clanging against the polished stone floor.

That must have been the bang I heard earlier.

A soft gasp escaped my lips as I took in the state of the person on the floor.

"Hey. Are you okay?" I stepped forward without thinking, heart lurching. "You're hurt."

He groaned faintly as I crouched beside him.

The wounds were brutal. Ugly gashes trailed across his bare back, one stretching over his shoulder blade, still raw and bleeding. Deep bruises marred his skin in angry shades of red and purple, as if he'd been in a fight with something far worse than another student.

What happened to him?

Who could have done this? And why wasn't anyone else around?

What unsettled me more was the strange way his body seemed frozen in pain, locked in place as if the wounds had stunned him mid movement.

How was he still conscious and struggling to get up?

"Here, let me help," I said, reaching out to steady him.

That was a mistake.

The moment I touched him, our eyes met and everything changed.

Piercing green eyes snapped open, locking onto mine with a glare so sharp it nearly knocked the breath out of me. There was nothing calm or sane in them. Wild, unhinged, raw power radiating like heat from a furnace.

I froze.

Everything happened so fast.

One second I was crouching beside him, the next, I was flying through the air.

It happened too quickly to register. One movement. One flash of energy. That was all it took.

My body slammed hard into something solid. The impact sent shockwaves through me, knocking the air from my lungs in a single, painful rush.

White hot pain exploded behind my eyes.

I slid to the ground, dazed. My vision blurred. I genuinely thought I might die here.

He was standing upright now, staring down at me from the top of the stairs, chest rising and falling unevenly. His dark hair fell in messy strands over his face, but I could still feel the burn of his stare.

I blinked, stunned I was even still conscious.

I wasn't in pieces. Just bruised. Lucky, I guessed.

Staggering upright, I gritted my teeth, still gasping for breath. My body ached, but my pride was seething.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled.