Chapter 5

ELIJAH'S POV

The uniform sits in a box on my desk. It has been there since last night. I have not opened it yet. I have just been looking at it from across the room, listening to the absolute silence of this house.

The Zenith estate is too vast, swallowed up by too many empty hallways and high ceilings. My mother stays confined to her wing. My father remains anchored to his study. I stay locked in my room, while the staff moves between us like ghosts, silent, efficient, and entirely invisible.

I finally stand and cross the room. The box is plain brown cardboard. I lift the flaps.

The uniform is folded neatly inside: navy blue with sharp white accents. The SLU crest is embroidered cleanly on the breast pocket. I lift it out and hold it in my hands.

It is just fabric. Just a uniform. But it is the first thing I have ever owned that my father did not choose for me.

I put it on. White shirt first. Then the trousers. Then the blazer. The buttons are small, and my fingers are clumsy. I am not used to dressing myself; there is always someone standing by to help. But today, I want to do it alone.

When I finish, I look in the mirror.

I do not see a student. I see a dying wolf wearing a costume. The uniform does not change what I am. It does not change the fire burning beneath my skin.

But it is a step closer to getting what I want. It gets me to SLU. It gets me closer to a cure.

That is all that matters.

The door opens without a knock.

My father enters. He does not look angry, which is unusual. He looks proud in that calculating, clinical way of his. Leander Zenith, the Prime Alpha, fills the room effortlessly.

"This uniform lacks the dignity of the Prime Pack," Leander says, his gaze flicking over the fabric with faint distaste. "Given the hasty arrangements, however, it will have to suffice."

His eyes move over me slowly. Assessing. Judging. He has been doing this my whole life.

"You had better perform well. The Union will be watching."

"I know."

"They will ask why the heir to my pack is studying medicine instead of leadership. They will wonder if something is wrong with you. If you are weak."

I do not flinch. I have heard this my whole life.

"I will handle it."

He studies me for a long moment. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, tossing them across the room. I catch them on reflex. They are cold and heavy in my palm.

"What is this?"

"A car. You cannot shift safely, and you will need a reliable way to get to SLU."

I stare at the keys. "You bought me a car."

"I have connections. The Prime Pack can afford certain luxuries." He pauses, his eyes hard. "Always remember, we have these things because we are meant for leadership. Do not forget that."

He turns and walks out, closing the door behind him.

I look at the keys. Then at the uniform in the mirror. Then back at the keys.

Did he do this because he cares, or because he is terrified my sickness will be exposed?

 

The car is a rolling monument to my father's ego, an obsidian-black fortress designed to scream wealth and dominance, which means it will draw every unwanted set of eyes on campus straight to my back before I even step out. I slide into the driver's seat and grip the steering wheel, the leather cool beneath my palms. 

I start the engine and drive.

Kyle is waiting outside his house when I pull up. He wears his SLU uniform, his dark hair still damp from a shower. He stares at the car, then at me, then back at the car.

"What the hell is this?"

"A car! "

He climbs into the passenger seat. "Yes its a car I have eyes , I knew the Prime Pack was rich, but this is something else."

I do not answer. I just drive.

Kyle has been my Beta since we were children. He is tall and broad-shouldered with a soldier's build, his face usually set in an expression of calm readiness. His job is to shadow me and protect me, but more than that, he is the only person in this world who knows the real me.

The drive to SLU is quiet, Kyle filling the silence with talk about class schedules. I am too focused on what is coming.

When we reach the campus, I park and step out.

The moment my boots hit the pavement, I feel it. Dozens of eyes. Hundreds. Students stop walking and turn. The whispers ripple through the air like static.

That is Elijah Zenith... The heir to the Prime Pack... What is he doing here?

I keep my face blank, walking with measured steps. Kyle stays right beside me, his jaw tight, a low, warning growl rumbling in his chest when someone steps too close.

A student guide approaches us, holding a campus map. "Elijah Zenith?"

"Yes."

"I am here to direct you to your lecture hall. Follow me."

We follow her through the murmuring crowd. My wolf pushes harder against my ribs. The sheer density of wolves in one place makes my skin itch. My head begins to pound.

We reach the lecture hall. Rows of benches face a raised podium. Students are already seated, but every head snaps toward us as we walk in.

I find a seat near the back. Kyle sits beside me.

I close my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing. Calm down.

My wolf refuses to listen. He wants to assert dominance. He wants to mark this territory and drive everyone away.

Pain lances through my chest. I grip the edge of the wooden bench so hard my knuckles turn white.

"Elijah," Kyle's voice is low, steadying. "You need to pull it back."

"I am trying."

At the front of the room, a middle-aged professor steps up to the podium. He looks up, and his eyes lock onto mine. He instantly freezes.

I can feel my aura bleeding out, a faint, crackling light-blue glow of uncontained alpha essence filling the room like smoke. Other students shift uncomfortably, gasping as a heavy pressure bears down on their chests. A few omegas wince, clutching their heads as the pheromones trigger sharp headaches. I am hurting them just by existing here. I have to lock it down.

And then.

I smell it.

Cutting through the stale air of the lecture hall comes a scent from the front doorway. Sweet, bright, and impossibly warm.

Like honey and rain.

Instantly, the raging storm inside me halts.

The pushing stops. The pain vanishes. The suffocating pressure lifts, and the aura fades into nothing. I feel lighter than I have felt in years, as if a boulder has been rolled off my chest.

My eyes fly open, flashing a striking, brilliant blue.

I look towards the door, and our eyes meet. A Golden Grain pack girl who smells like honey-glazed oranges stares right back, her eyes widening so big they could pop out of her sockets.