TWO

Amaya's POV

The sheets are too soft. That's the first thing I notice when I wake up, softness against my skin instead of rough canvas straps. No restraints around my wrists. No cold metal beneath me. Just clean cotton and the smell of lavender instead of antiseptic, oh wow,this is amazing..

My eyes snap open. White ceiling. Sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains. A room that looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel, not a facility.

I bolt upright, and pain explodes through my ribs in a jiffy. My hand flies to my side, finding bandages wrapped tight around my torso. More bandages on my arms, my legs. Someone undressed me. Someone touched me while I was unconscious.

The panic slams into me like a fist. I can't breathe. Unable to think straight. The walls are closing in and I need to get out, need to run, need to..

"You're safe."

I whip around. A woman stands in the doorway, fifties, gray hair pulled back, kind eyes that I don't trust for a second. She holds up both hands like I'm a wild animal.

Maybe I am.

"My name is Principal Thorne. You're at Northridge Ice Academy. You've been asleep for ten days."

Ten days? I jump off the bed, stumble, catch myself against the nightstand. I'm wearing clean clothes, soft pants and a loose shirt that aren't mine. "Who changed me? Who touched me?"

"Our nurse. Only our nurse, I promise." She takes a careful step inside. "We found you on the rocks below Widow's Cliff. You should be dead, but somehow... you survived and that is really a miracle."

The cliff, how I actually jump. The water swallowing me whole. It comes back in fragments, cold, darkness, that strange scent on the wind right before everything went black.

"Where am I?" My voice sounds raw, broken.

"Northridge Ice Academy. A private school for.." She pauses. "gifted students."

Gifted. Code for something. Always code for something. I scan the room, one door behind her, one window to my left. Second floor, maybe third based on the tree line visible outside. I could make that jump if I had to.

"I want to leave."

"You can't." Her voice stays gentle, but firm. "You're registered under the name Amaya Rasford secured. The people looking for you won't find you here."

My blood runs cold. "How do you know people are looking for me?"

"Because girls don't wash up half-dead on beaches covered in medical restraint marks and needle tracks unless they're running from something very bad." Her eyes hold mine. "You're safe here. But you need to stay, blend in, become a student. At least until we can figure out what to do with you."

Blend in? Become a student. Like I'm normal. Like I didn't spend months as a lab rat.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you walk out that door with no papers, no money, no protection, and they find you within a week max but we both know it will be a lot shorter than that." She steps aside, gesturing to the hallway. "It is entirely your choice."

Not really a choice at all.

+++++++

The uniform is crisp, navy blazer, white shirt, plaid skirt that falls just above my knees. I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and don't recognize the girl looking back. Clean. Bandaged. Almost normal, if you don't look at the bruises still yellowing on my jaw or the haunted look in my eyes.

My hands won't stop shaking. I grip the sink edge until my knuckles go white. I just need to blend in and act like I have been doing this most of my life. I mean it is just school. What could possibly go wrong.

You can do this. Just breathe. Just survive.

The hallways are massive, vaulted ceilings, stone walls, students in matching uniforms streaming between classes. Rich kids. I can tell by the way they walk, confident and careless, like the world owes them everything and they know it.

I keep my back to the wall, tracking exits. Two at each end of the corridor. Windows every fifteen feet. Fire escape signs pointing to stairwells. My heart hammers against my ribs but I force my breathing steady.

Just blend in. Don't draw attention.

I found my first class, Advanced Supernatural History. The room falls quiet when I walk in. Twenty pairs of eyes lock on me, the new girl, the stranger. I feel their stares like hands on my skin and I want to claw my way out of my own body.

The teacher, Mr. Grayson, according to the board, gives me a tight smile. "Ah, Miss Rasford. Please, take any available seat."

I scan the room. Most desks are full, students sitting in clusters, but there are three empty seats in the back row by the windows. Perfect. I can see the whole room from there, and I'm close to an exit. I move toward them.

"Not there!" A girl with perfect blonde curls grabs my arm.

I flinch so hard I nearly hit her. My body moves on instinct, pulling back, hands coming up defensive. She drops my arm immediately, eyes wide.

"Sorry, I just.." She lowers her voice. "Those seats are taken."

I look at the empty chairs. "They're not here."

"They're never here. Not for first period, anyway." She glances around like she's worried someone might hear. "Those are the Alpha Heirs' seats. You don't sit there. You don't even look at them too long. Trust me."

Alpha Heirs. The way she says it, all reverent and nervous, makes my skin crawl. Another hierarchy. Another system where certain people have power over others. I spent six months being powerless.

"I'll sit where I want," I say, and take the window seat. The blonde girl makes a small sound of distress and hurries back to her desk. Whispers ripple through the classroom. Mr. Grayson clears his throat but doesn't tell me to move.

Good. Let them whisper. I'm done being afraid of bullies and alphas and anyone who thinks they own me.

The class drags on. I don't hear a word of it. My mind keeps drifting, back to the facility, to Sera's screams, to the scalpel sliding between the guard's ribs. My hands curl into fists under the desk. When the bell finally rings, I'm the first one out.

I need air. Need space. Need to get away from all these eyes and voices and the walls that feel too much like confinement.

I take the stairs two at a time, following signs until I find a door marked ROOF ACCESS - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Perfect. I shove it open and step out into sunlight and wind. The roof is flat, scattered with ventilation units and..

Smoke.

Three figures lean against the far railing, cigarettes glowing between their fingers. Males. Large. Powerful in the way predators are powerful, all coiled muscle and easy confidence.

They turn slowly as the door clangs shut behind me. Three devastatingly beautiful faces. Three sets of eyes that catch the light like it fantasy, too bright, too intense. The air around them feels heavy, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes.

The one in the middle, dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes like winter storms, takes a long drag and smiles. "Lost, little wolf?"

My mouth moves before my brain catches up. "You're the Alpha Heirs."

The smile widens, Dangerous, Guilty. We stare at each other across the rooftop. The wind whips my hair back. Something in the air shifts, tightens, pulls.

Then it hits me, a wall of scent so strong my knees nearly buckle. Pine and smoke and something wild, something that reaches inside my chest and wraps around my lungs. My abdomen clenches, heat coiling low and insistent.

No. No, this isn't..

All three of them go rigid. Cigarettes fall from fingers. Their eyes start to glow, actual light bleeding through their irises, turning them inhuman. My heart stops. Starts. Hammers so hard I think it might break through my ribs.

The dark-haired one steps forward, nostrils flaring, pupils blown wide. When he speaks, his voice is barely human, rough and resonant and haunting.

"Mate."