CHAPTER 5

"Where the hell are you going, Emily?"

Ryan’s voice bit through the thin, mountain air like a frost-tipped arrow. He didn't look at her; he was too busy leaning against the obsidian pillars of the Academy entrance, tossing a jagged piece of flint between his hands. The Locker Room Circle stood behind him, a wall of Alpha-scent and arrogance.

Emily didn't answer. She couldn't. Her voice was a dry rattle in her throat. She focused on the library's heavy stone doors. If she reached them, she was safe—the library was neutral ground under the Moonlight Law. No shifts. No blood.

She limped past them, her right knee buckling with every step. The bone-deep throb was a rhythmic reminder of the morning’s "lesson."

"The professor's little lap-bitch is in a hurry today," Tyler Brooks sneered, loud enough for the passing Betas to hear. "Maybe Arnold needs his ink-wells refilled with something more... personal."

The laughter followed her inside, heavy and mocking. Emily didn't stop until she reached the deep-stack vaults at the rear of the library. It was a graveyard of ancient scrolls and smelling of dust and dried herbs. Perfect.

She collapsed into a moth-eaten chair, hoisting her leg onto a stack of discarded ledgers. The sharp pain was receding into a dull hum thanks to the Lunar-medic’s salve, but the humiliation was still raw.

She pulled out Ryan’s combat assignment. He hadn't even opened the scroll. If she didn't finish the Rune-calculations for him, he’d be barred from the next Moon-Hunt, and their parents would find a way to make her bleed for his failure.

Her phone buzzed.

The Watcher: Good girl. Stay off that leg. The ice is thirsty for more than your blood today.

Emily’s breath hitched. She looked at the screen, her thumbs hovering. He saw me? She looked around the cavernous room. Stone gargoyles stared back. Shadowy alcoves remained silent.

Emily: I’m in the stacks. I'm not moving for hours. Stop following me.

She threw the phone onto the table. "Creep," she whispered. But her heart didn't agree. It was thudding a rhythm that felt dangerously like hope.

Three hours of tracing complex lunar trajectories for Ryan left her eyes stinging. She reached for her water skin. Empty. Her stomach let out a hollow growl that echoed in the silence. She hadn't eaten since the previous night's disaster. Being the household's "Hollowed" meant eating after the wolves were full, and lately, there were never any scraps.

She stood up, leaning heavily on the table as she made her way to the water font and the washrooms.

When she returned ten minutes later, she froze.

A small, steam-rising parcel sat on her pile of scrolls. Beside it, a wooden cup of Hot Chocolate—real cocoa, rich and dark, topped with a dusting of cinnamon.

Emily didn't run. She scanned the aisles. "Who's there?"

Only the whistling wind against the high stained-glass windows answered.

She sat, her hands shaking as she unwrapped the parcel. A thick elk-meat sandwich. The bread was still warm. Stuck to the cup was a small scrap of parchment. A hand-drawn smiling face. No words.

Her phone vibrated in her palm.

The Watcher: You can’t hunt on an empty stomach, Princess. Even if you only hunt for grades.

A chill that had nothing to do with the Frozen Frontier raced down her spine. He was close. Close enough to see her leave. Close enough to place the food and vanish.

Is this how it starts? she thought, the stories of obsessive stalkers from the southern packs flickering in her mind. Little gifts before the trap snaps shut?

She stood up, the pain in her knee forgotten under a surge of adrenaline. She began to walk, weaving through the towering shelves of the library. She moved toward the Great Pillar—a massive obsidian column in the center of the room.

In the shadow of the column, tucked away in a private study nook, sat a figure.

Emily slowed her pace, her boots silent on the stone floor. She peered around a shelf of herbology books.

It was Daniel Wright.

He was a ghost in their batch. Quiet. Sharp-featured. He was an Alpha by blood, but he lacked the loud, overbearing "Essence-Aura" that Ryan and Tyler thrived on. He was just... there.

Daniel was staring at his laptop, a faint, almost invisible smile playing on his lips. He wasn't studying. His fingers were flying across the keyboard with a frantic, focused energy.

Emily felt the air leave her lungs. Daniel? The quiet boy from the back of the Rune-Logic class?

She remembered a week ago. She had tripped in the mud of the training grounds, and Daniel had been the only one to stop. He hadn't helped her up—that would have invited Ryan's wrath—but he had dropped a clean linen cloth near her hand before walking away.

She remembered the way he looked at her during the morning lecture while Tyler was mocking her. He hadn't laughed. His jaw had been set so tight she thought his teeth might shatter.

It can't be him. He’s one of them.

But he was an Alpha. His family held territory in the jagged peaks of the North. Why would someone with his status care about a girl who couldn't even growl?

She took a breath, her fingers trembling as she pulled out her phone.

Emily: The lunch was perfect. Thank you.

She kept her eyes glued on Daniel.

On the table in front of him, a phone screen lit up. Daniel didn't jump. He reached for it slowly, his smile widening as he read the text. He typed something back, his movements fluid and certain.

Emily’s phone buzzed in her hand.

The Watcher: I’m glad you liked it, Princess. Now eat. All of it.

The world seemed to tilt. The "Hollowed" girl, the one her parents called a mistake, the one her brother used as a punching bag... was someone's Princess.

She looked at Daniel. He looked up then, his eyes searching the library. Emily ducked behind the shelf, her heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it.

He wasn't like Ryan. He didn't use his power to crush. He used it to hide, to protect, to watch.

She retreated to her table, the hot chocolate now tasting like more than just sugar and cream. It tasted like a secret.

She looked at the sandwich. She looked at the note.

Princess.