ซือเหม่ยหลันภรรยาของชายอาภัพแห่งหมู่บ้านป่าท้อ

THIRD PERSON’S LIMITED POV (AURELIAN)

With a scholarship letter in his hand, Aurelian stood at the iron gates of Triskelion Academy. The main building was a few steps away and the three pack crests were carved into the entrance arch above.

He shifted the strap of his worn backpack, feeling the weight of everything hidden inside: Suppressants from Kaidora. Fake documents. The carefully constructed identity of a wolfless scholarship student from a small, distant pack that no one would bother to verify his story.

Around him, other students walked through the gates. Alphas moved with confidence, their expensive clothes and easy dominance marking them as the elite. Betas walked in clusters, chattering and laughing, belonging to this world in ways Aurelian never would.

A few gave him curious glances—his violet eyes always drew attention—but most ignored him completely.

But he knew somewhere inside that building were three wolves whose faces he had memorized from news articles and social media posts.

Rhydian Frost, son of Alpha Kael of Gravefang Pack.

Tavian Ashborne, son of Alpha Soren of Ironvein Pack.

Astarian Grey, son of Alpha Lucien of Nightrein Pack.

The sons of his family’s murderers.

They had no idea what they’d just let through their gates. They would see exactly what he wanted them to see: a broken wolfless charity case, powerless and pathetic.

Aurelian took a breath and crossed the threshold into enemy territory.

The interior of Triskelion Academy was as imposing as its exterior. Marble floors gleamed beneath his feet. High ceilings made every sound echo. Pack banners hung from the walls—Gravefang’s silver wolf, Ironvein’s crossed swords, Nightrein’s crescent moon. A constant reminder that this place belonged to the three families who ruled these territories.

Aurelian kept his head down, navigating the crowded hallway.

Other students pushed past him without acknowledgment. A few laughed at something on their phones. Two alpha girls walked by in designer clothes that probably cost more than Aurelian’s entire fabricated background could afford.

He was so focused on maintaining his submissive posture that he didn’t see the corner coming.

Aurelian collided hard with someone. The impact sent his orientation packet flying, papers scattering across the marble floor. He stumbled backward, his carefully maintained balance disrupted.

Before he could recover, hands grabbed his shoulders—not to steady him, but to shove him roughly away.

Aurelian looked up into a pair of icy blue eyes that he knew as well as his own reflection.

Rhydian Frost.

The recognition met Aurelian like a physical blow. He had studied this face in photographs, memorized every angle and expression, and imagined this moment a thousand times. But seeing Rhydian in person—real and close enough to touch—was different than he’d anticipated.

Rhydian was taller than he looked in pictures. Broader. His black hair was slicked back perfectly, and his uniform fit like it had been tailored specifically for his frame. Everything about him screamed dominance and control. His father’s features were stamped clearly on his face—the sharp jaw, the cold eyes, the expression of someone who had never been told NO in his entire life.

Aurelian felt hatred coil tight in his chest.

For a suspended moment, they simply stared at each other. Rhydian’s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from irritation to something Aurelian couldn’t quite read. Then Rhydian’s nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled.

The scent.

Aurelian had deliberately allowed a trace of his suppressed omega scent to leak through this morning, just enough to trigger something instinctive without being identifiable. He watched Rhydian’s pupils dilate slightly, saw the way his breathing changed, noticed the confusion that flickered across his face.

Rhydian clearly didn’t understand what he was sensing. How could he? He’d never encountered an omega in his life. All he knew was that something about the wolfless scholarship student who’d just collided with him made his wolf react in ways that didn’t make sense.

And that made him angry.

“Watch where you’re going,” Rhydian snarled, his hands tightening on Aurelian’s shoulders before shoving him again.

Aurelian let himself stumble, playing up the weakness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Sorry?” Rhydian grabbed Aurelian by the collar, hauling him close. His scent—alpha musk and expensive cologne—flooded Aurelian’s senses. “You should be sorry. Wolfless trash like you shouldn’t even be walking in these halls.”

Up close, Aurelian could see the silver flecks in Rhydian’s blue eyes, could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell the confusion beneath the aggression. Some traitorous part of his hindbrain wanted to lean into the touch instead of away from it.

Aurelian forced his expression into fear and submission, letting his voice shake. “I have a scholarship. I’m allowed to—”

“Allowed?” Rhydian’s laugh was cold. “You think a piece of paper gives you the right to—”

“Easy, Rhydian.”

Another hand caught Aurelian’s arm—gentle but firm—and pulled him smoothly out of Rhydian’s grip.

Astarian Grey.

The second heir was softer than Rhydian in every way. Where Rhydian was all sharp edges and barely controlled aggression, Astarian moved with careful grace. His brown eyes held concern instead of contempt, and when his fingers wrapped around Aurelian’s arm, the touch was almost protective.

“He’s clearly new,” Astarian said, his voice calm and reasonable. “No need to terrorize him on his first day.”

Aurelian felt the difference immediately. Where Rhydian’s touch had been violent and possessive, Astarian’s was gentle. It confused something in Aurelian’s carefully controlled emotions before he remembered that this was the enemy too. Astarian’s father had driven a knife into his mother’s chest. Kindness didn’t erase that.

“You don’t have to be so cruel to a scholarship charity case, Rhydian.” The third voice came from behind them.

Aurelian turned slightly to see Tavian Ashborne leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the scene with amused hazel eyes. His tawny brown hair fell across his right eye, and his uniform was unbuttoned just enough to look casual.

“Save that energy for actual threats,” Tavian continued with a light tone.

“Charity cases don’t belong here,” Rhydian snapped, yanking his attention back to Aurelian. “This academy is for wolves with futures, not—” He looked him up and down with obvious disdain. “—broken rejects who can’t even shift.”

Around them, other students had stopped to watch. Some whispered behind their hands. A few laughed. The social hierarchy was immediately, brutally clear: the three heirs stood at the top, and everyone else existed at their pleasure.

Aurelian kept his eyes down and his shoulders hunched, letting them see what they expected—a powerless wolfless student who didn’t belong and knew it.

But behind the submissive mask, he was cataloging everything:

Rhydian: aggressive, needs to dominate, covers confusion with cruelty. The scent affected him most strongly. Exploitable.

Tavian: charming but dismissive, treats this as entertainment. Observant. Dangerous because he pays attention. Be careful.

Astarian: protective instinct even toward strangers. Gentle. The weakness I’ll use against him.

“I don’t know why my father approved scholarship admissions for wolfless imbeciles,” Rhydian said, grabbing Aurelian by the collar again. “But you’re not staying. I don’t just seem to like you.”

He began dragging Aurelian back toward the entrance, his grip firm. Other students parted to let them pass, not one of them protesting or intervening. Tavian and Astarian followed, more curious than concerned.

Aurelian didn’t resist. This was still useful, still creating the impression he wanted. Let them think he was helpless. Let them believe he had no power. The truth would reveal itself when he chose, not before.

They were halfway to the gates when a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Is there a problem here?”

Aurelian felt a flicker of relief that he carefully kept off his face.