The rest of the day passed in a haze of exhaustion and tension.
Every class was the sa, nobles and elites whispering behind their hands, shooting glares my way, making it very clear I wasn’t welco. The ferals in each class sat hunched over, their eyes downcast, too afraid to et anyone’s gaze. I refused to do the sa. I wasn’t going to cower. Not here. Not ever.
By the ti the next class rolled around, my body ached from sitting so stiffly, my mind constantly on alert. It was exhausting, being surrounded by wolves who saw as nothing more than prey.
At least I had one class with Callum. Seeing a familiar face was the only thing that kept from drowning in the suffocating hostility.
The mont I spotted him, my stomach twisted.
His face was a ss.
A deep bruise darkened his cheekbone, swollen and angry. A cut just above his eyebrow was still raw, the dried blood cracking as he furrowed his brow. His lower lip was split, a thin line of red where it must have been struck. His uniform was slightly disheveled, like soone had grabbed him and shoved him against sothing. He walked stiffly, as if there were injuries I couldn’t see.
I gritted my teeth and stord toward him.
"Callum," I hissed as I sat beside him, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "What the hell happened to your face?"
He barely glanced at . "It’s nothing."
I narrowed my eyes. "That’s not nothing, Callum."
He let out a humorless laugh, finally turning his head fully to face . "You’re one to talk. Have you seen your arm?"
I knew what I looked like. I knew my body was littered with bruises and scars, old and new. But that wasn’t the point.
"Who did this to you?" I pressed. "Was it an elite? A noble?" My voice lowered dangerously. "Tell ."
Callum’s expression hardened, and for the first ti since I t him, I saw anger in his eyes.
"Drop it, Lorraine."
"No."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "It doesn’t matter. It’s just how things are here."
My fingers curled into fists beneath the desk. "That doesn’t an we should just take it."
Callum let out a bitter chuckle. "And what are you going to do, Lorraine? Fight them? Get yourself killed?" His voice was laced with frustration. "This is their world. We’re just intruders."
I hated that he was right. Hated that I had no real argunt to throw back at him.
A few nobles passed by our table, their laughter ringing out as one of them made a mocking growl in our direction, baring his teeth like we were animals at a zoo.
Callum kept his gaze down, jaw tight. I didn’t. I t their stares head-on, unwilling to let them see as weak.
One of the nobles smirked. "Still got so fight left in you, feral?"
I didn’t respond.
I wanted to. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. But I knew better.
Another noble scoffed. "Not for long."
They walked off, and I let out a slow breath, my nails digging into my palms.
I turned back to Callum. His expression was unreadable, his eyes locked onto the desk in front of him.
"I know it’s their world," I muttered. "I know we’re nothing to them. But I won’t just roll over and accept it."
Callum didn’t say anything.
The professor walked in before I could push him further, and I bit my tongue, forcing myself to let it go. For now.
But as the lesson droned on, I kept stealing glances at Callum, my chest tight with anger.
I might not be able to fight back now
But one day, I would.
After my last class, I made my way to the locker area, my body already sore from the day’s tornt. The hallway was mostly empty, save for a few students who passed by without sparing a glance. I reached my locker, turning the combination lock with fingers that trembled slightly. My mind was still reeling from everything, the ferals who had been killed, Callum’s bruises, the endless hostility from the nobles and elites.
But I wasn’t about to break.
I opened my locker, grabbed a few things, and just as I was about to shut it—footsteps.
Too many.
I tensed, instincts screaming at to run, but before I could even turn, I was surrounded.
Five elites.
The leader stepped forward, a smirk curling her lips. She was tall and striking, her long platinum blonde hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silver. But her beauty was overshadowed by the sheer malice in her icy blue eyes.
"So you’re the little feral who thought she could talk back to my brother today," she said, her voice smooth yet dripping with venom.
I clenched my jaw but didn’t reply.
She tilted her head, eyes raking over with a look of disgust. "I don’t know what gave you the impression that you could speak to us as if we were equals, but I’ll fix that for you."
The other elites snickered, blocking any possible escape.
She took another step closer. "Allow to introduce myself. My na is Selene Ashthorne, daughter of Alpha Desmond Ashthorne, leader of the Bloodfang Pack, one of the most powerful elite packs in the kingdom."
Bloodfang. Of course.
I recognized the na. Their pack was known for its brutality, their warriors so of the deadliest. If there was ever a group of werewolves who thrived off of dominance and cruelty, it was them.
Selene’s smirk widened as she gestured to one of the elites behind her. "And this is my younger brother, Alistair."
I recognized him imdiately, the sa bastard who had slapped in combat class.
Alistair sneered at , his hand twitching as if itching to strike again.
"You embarrassed my little brother," Selene continued. "And now, I have to remind you of your place."
I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat, but I refused to lower my head.
I had already endured this kind of tornt my whole life. From my own pack. From my own people. I wasn’t about to let another group of entitled wolves beat into submission.
So, I did the one thing I knew would enrage them.
I smiled.
Selene’s eyes flashed dangerously. "You think this is funny, mutt?"
I crossed my arms. "I think it’s pathetic."
The hallway went dead silent.
Selene’s smirk vanished.
"You think you’re strong because of the pack you were born into," I said, voice steady. "You think you can do whatever you want because of your last na, because of the power you inherited. But at the end of the day, all you elites ever do is pick on those who can’t fight back. You’re not strong. You’re just a bunch of bullies."
A sharp intake of breath from one of the elites.
A flicker of sothing—shock? Amusent?—in Alistair’s eyes.
Selene, however, looked murderous.
Before I could react, her hand shot out, gripping my throat in a crushing grip.
I choked, my hands instinctively flying up to claw at her fingers, but it was useless.
She was too strong.
Selene lifted off the ground like I weighed nothing.
I gasped, my feet kicking helplessly as my lungs scread for air. Black spots dotted my vision. My body convulsed as my air supply dwindled.
She leaned in, her lips curving into a smile. "I should snap your neck right now."
And she could. She would.
But then—
A loud blare echoed through the halls.
The siren.
Selene tch’d in annoyance before dropping unceremoniously onto the cold floor.
I hit the ground hard, my throat throbbing, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
Selene crouched down, gripping my chin and forcing to look at her. "Luckily for you, I have to return to class." Her nails dug into my skin. "I’ve kept a perfect attendance record, and I don’t intend to break it over trash like you."
She leaned in so close I could feel her breath against my ear.
"But listen to , feral, you won’t make it to the end of the week. I’m going to hunt you. And I am going to kill you."
With that, she stood, sending one last nod to her brother before turning on her heel.
As if to add insult to injury, she kicked hard in the stomach before walking away.
Pain exploded through my ribs, and I bit back a scream, curling on the floor as I gasped for breath.
I don’t know how long I lay there, struggling to sit up, but then—
There was a sound of a locker closing.
I froze, my head snapping up.
A few feet away, standing casually as if he had been there all along, was him.
Kieran Valerius Hunter.
His tall fra leaned against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest. The dim lighting cast shadows across his sharp features. His piercing golden eyes stared down at , unreadable.
He had seen everything.
Had he just stood there the whole ti?
My breathing was still uneven, my ribs aching from Selene’s kick, but I forced myself up, refusing to look weak in front of him.
Kieran turned slightly, already walking away, when he suddenly stopped right in front of .
His voice was low, deep, and filled with sothing I couldn’t quite place.
"For a wolf as weak as yours," he murmured, not even sparing a glance, "you do have a very sharp mouth."
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