I Want To Be Free

Aria's POV

The room was small, bland, and smelled like cheap lavender detergent.

And I loved it.

I let my suitcase drop beside the bed with a satisfying thump and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet. No echo of high heels on polished marble. No overly sweet voice telling me I looked "a little plain today." No Bianca. No Celeste. No Eleanor.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t under their roof.

Technically, I wasn’t free. Not yet. But at least now I could breathe without feeling watched.

I sat down on the left bed and glanced around the room.

Four beds, each lined against a wall like some sort of neat survival unit. Four desks, all worn but functional. Two sad little windows, barely wide enough to let in proper light. Four cramped wardrobes, none big enough for the emotional baggage most students carried, let alone clothes.

Still… this was mine. A space I didn’t have to share with anyone who shared my blood or hated that I existed.

And that… was enough.

I ran a hand through my hair—dyed black, as always—and caught a glint of silver at the roots. I’d have to re-dye it soon. Too many questions if someone saw the truth beneath. No one could know what I was. Who I was. That was the deal.

I’d kept it hidden this long. I could do it for a little longer.

A soft knock sounded behind me, followed by the door creaking open like it had zero respect for privacy.

“Room 36?” a voice chirped. “Oh, good! I was hoping I’d get someone who didn’t look like they’d kill me in my sleep.”

I turned, blinking at the energetic tornado that stepped into the room. She was maybe my age, with twin braids, big brown eyes, and a permanent grin that suggested she’d never had to sharpen her edges just to survive.

“I’m Sheila,” she said brightly, tossing a backpack onto the other bed. “And you are...?”

“Aria,” I replied, guarded but not rude.

She dropped onto the bed like she owned it. “You’re new, huh? You’ve got that fresh-out-the-wrong-side-of-life look.”

I raised a brow. “That’s one way to say it.”

“Transfer?” she asked, head tilted. “Or late bloomer?”

I hated that term. Late bloomer. Like I’d just been slow. Like I wasn’t hiding an entire wolf under my skin, holding her back with a white-knuckled grip for the past two years.

“Late,” I said simply. “Enrolled late.”

Truth was, I should’ve been here when I turned eighteen. That’s when most wolves shift—when the animal within stirs and you learn exactly where you stand in the pecking order. That day, I did shift. Just… not in front of anyone.

Not safely. Not quietly. Not… normally.

So I buried her—my wolf. Stuffed her down so deep she forgot what air felt like. Let the world believe I was broken. Weak. A disappointment.

It was safer that way.

Sheila didn’t seem to notice the lie. “Cool. Well, welcome to Crescent Howl, land of hierarchy, toxic Alpha egos, and the worst coffee in the Northern territory.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

“I’ll survive,” I muttered.

“Hope so,” she said, flopping onto her back with a dramatic sigh. “Just stay out of the Apex brother’s way and you’ll be fine.”

That caught my attention. “The Apex Brothers?”

She propped herself up on one elbow, suddenly looking like she’d been dying for this conversation. “Four Alpha-class egomaniacs who walk around like they own the school. Which… I guess they kinda do. Kaid, Ryker, Thane, and Caspian. They’re all stupidly hot and stupidly dangerous. Especially Kaid. Stay away from him.”

“Duly noted.”

“Seriously,” she insisted. “They don’t mess with Omegas unless we’re in their way. Or bleeding. Or interesting. And trust me—you don’t want to be interesting.”

I let out a soft snort and turned back to unpacking. “Don’t worry. Being invisible is kind of my specialty.”

Sheila didn’t know it, but I had no intention of getting involved in anyone’s drama—not even the Apex Brothers. I wasn’t here to make friends. I wasn’t here to fall in love. I wasn’t here to prove anything to anyone.

I was here to earn my damn freedom.

Because once I had my degree, I could legally cut ties with my stepmother and the family that had treated me like a servant for most of my life. No more pretending to smile when Eleanor played perfect wife. No more scrubbing floors while Bianca and Celeste lounged around like they were royalty. And definitely no more standing quietly while my father stared through me like I was a piece of furniture he regretted purchasing.

He married Eleanor because he was lonely. And then left me to rot in her shadow.

I zipped open the suitcase and pulled out my last sweater—soft, gray, and a little frayed at the sleeves. My favorite. Familiar. Safe.

I folded it slowly, pressing it flat against the bed.

You’re out, Aria, I reminded myself. Not free. Not yet. But this is step one.

And step one? Meant surviving.

“You got a phone?” Sheila asked suddenly, propping herself up on her elbows again.

I blinked. “Uh. Yeah.”

She tossed a pillow at me. “Well, give me your number then. You’re not shaking me off that easy. Roommates are fate, babe. Moon-given, dorm-assigned fate.”

I caught the pillow mid-air and smirked despite myself. She was relentless in a way I hadn’t expected. A little annoying, yes. But refreshingly honest.

I rattled off my number, and she typed it in with dramatic flair.

“Awesome. I’ll text you memes when class gets boring. Oh, and just a heads up—we might get assigned one or two extra roommates later. Dorm assignments are fluid.”

I stiffened slightly. “How many people are supposed to be in one room?”

“Four, max. Depends on housing availability and rank. Sometimes they mix classes to make room.”

That made my spine prickle.

Hierarchy.

This school was built on it.

Alphas at the top, revered and feared. Betas respected and strong. Deltas—mid-tier, useful, but ultimately forgettable. And Omegas? We were at the bottom. Labeled weak. Unworthy. Outcasts.

It didn’t matter that some of us were smarter. Tougher. It didn’t matter that we endured more. The system didn’t care about endurance—it only respected power.

At least the kind it could see.

“You’re an Omega too?” I asked carefully.

“Guilty,” she said with zero shame. “But, I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to tell.”

I frowned. “How can you tell?”

She sat up with a grin. “Oh, come on. You didn’t notice how the higher ranks dress? Alphas strut around in designer everything, fresh outta magazines. Betas wear sleek, functional uniforms—impeccable, no wrinkles, always polished. Deltas try to mimic them, but it’s usually knockoffs or hand-me-downs. And then there’s us.”

I glanced at her wrinkled skirt and worn boots. Then at my own faded jeans and too-thin sweater.

Right.

Sheila continued, “Besides, we’re in the dorms. Alphas don’t do dorms. They’ve got self-contained suites. Some even live in penthouses, if their families are rich enough.”

My stomach twisted at the word penthouses. I'd seen them once—cold, glass-walled towers high above the rest of us. Safe. Secluded. Out of reach.

Sheila propped her head on her fist. “Look, just a word of advice—don’t draw attention to yourself. Not from Alphas. Definitely not from Betas. Some of them live for tormenting Omegas. It’s like a sport.”

I gave her a dry look. “Sounds delightful.”

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice softening. “Just keep your head down. You seem smart… and I like you already. I don’t want to see you get ripped apart by this place.”

For a moment, I was quiet. That—concern—I hadn’t felt that from someone in a long time. Not without an agenda. Not without a cost.

“Thanks,” I said simply. That was all I could give.

She grinned and nodded like we’d made some sort of roommate pact, then rolled over and shoved a pillow over her head, muttering something about naps and surviving Beta-run orientations.

I pulled on a black hoodie, tugged the hood over my head, and stepped out.

The hallway outside the dorm was quiet, painted in soft neutrals, but the air still buzzed faintly with tension—the kind that clung to every corner of this school. Even when it was peaceful, it was never safe.

It was the weekend. No classes. No chaos yet.

The perfect time to explore without prying eyes.

I walked out into the fresh air, letting the breeze brush against my skin as I stepped into the open courtyard. The campus stretched around me, massive and sprawling like a kingdom divided by status. I’d only seen it in pamphlets before, but in person, Crescent Howl Academy was both breathtaking and cruel.

Towering glass buildings rose high in the distance—those were the Alpha dorms, no doubt. Isolated. Untouchable. The courtyard beneath was lined with elegant pathways, pristine flower beds, and benches carved with the academy’s crest: a crescent moon wrapped in a thorned vine.

I walked slowly, taking mental notes. Left of the main courtyard: the amphitheater. Straight ahead, the admin hall. To the right, I caught sight of the combat grounds—empty for now, but probably a bloodbath during training sessions.

I stepped onto the narrow paved walkway that wound along the east wing when I heard it—a low hum of an engine. Sleek. Aggressive.

A sports car sped past from behind, and before I could react—

SPLASH.

Cold, wet mud exploded across my side, soaking my jeans, the front of my hoodie, and spattering my face. I stumbled back, gasping. The force of it made my skin sting.

The car screeched to a stop a few feet away, tires squealing against the stone path.

And then it hit me.