"Well, this is unexpected."
My breath caught in my throat.
Kieran Valerius Hunter.
The Lycan Prince.
He was here. Speaking to . Looking at .
For a second, my brain refused to work. The reality of where I was, who I was with, slamd into all at once. I was in the sa room as him. Alone.
I forced myself to keep it together. Straightening, I pushed the shock down and kept my voice even. "I—I apologize," I said quickly. "I didn’t an to intrude. I didn’t know you were here, and I’ll just be on my way—"
I turned, reaching for the door.
But before my fingers even grazed the handle, he was there.
I hadn’t seen him move. I hadn’t even felt it. One second, he was across the room, and the next, his tall fra was blocking my only exit, his hand pressing the door shut with ease.
My lungs refused to work.
The sheer speed. The power radiating off of him. The way his presence felt like an invisible force pressing down on , heavy and overwhelming. My legs almost buckled from the pressure.
"Unless you still want to be food for the Ashthornes today," Kieran said, his deep voice making the air itself feel heavier, "I suggest you stay put. They’re still outside."
I barely managed a nod.
He was too close. Too near, too powerful, too aware of . I could feel his golden eyes watching , reading like I was so puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.
"How do you not know they’re still outside?" he asked, his voice edged with sothing I couldn’t place. "Can’t you perceive their scents?"
I opened my mouth, then hesitated.
His gaze sharpened. "Or do you not have a wolf?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I do," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. "But... it’s dormant. My wolf has never spoken to , never surfaced. It’s weak. The only thing it does is heal ... and even that takes days to work properly."
For a mont, he just stared at . Then he took a step closer.
"You talk like you’ve had a lot of wounds," he murmured.
I stiffened.
He took another step, and I instinctively pressed back against the wall. The cold surface bit into my spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him.
"That’s a lot of injuries for soone who knows how to aggravate the wrong people," he mused, his tone unreadable. "Or maybe... you’re just not afraid to die."
I t his gaze, refusing to let him intimidate . "I ca here prepared to die on the first day," I said, my voice steady. "Death only scares people who have sothing to lose." My jaw tightened. "I have nothing to lose."
Sothing flickered in his golden eyes.
Kieran leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin. "Are you really sure about that?"
His voice was low, testing. Almost dangerous.
"Death doesn’t scare you?"
I nodded.
Kieran didn’t move.
He lingered there, his face re inches from mine, the space between us practically nonexistent. His breath was hot against my skin, searing, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I could feel the heat of his body, the sheer energy radiating off him like a storm barely restrained.
My heart pounded against my ribs, but I refused to look away. I refused to break first.
His golden eyes bore into mine, studying, searching, as if trying to peel back my layers, as if he was dissecting my very soul.
My face was burning.
Every breath I took was thick with his scent, wild, powerful, laced with sothing raw and untad. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms to ground myself, to keep myself from reacting.
Then...
He was gone.
Like a specter fading into mist, Kieran was suddenly across the room, his back to as he leisurely pulled a book from the shelf, his movents slow, deliberate.
"That’s a facade, you know," he said casually, flipping through the pages with an air of disinterest. "This whole ’I have nothing to lose, so I don’t fear death’ act."
He turned, walking back to his desk, placing the book down with a soft thud.
"I’ve t people like you," he continued, his voice smooth but edged with sothing sharp. "People who think they’ve been through all the shits in the world and believe they aren’t afraid to die." He let out a quiet chuckle, dark and knowing. "But you only think that because you don’t know death."
He lifted his gaze to mine, and the air in the room changed.
"Real death isn’t a swift blade to the heart," Kieran murmured, his voice like velvet over steel. "It’s slow. Cruel. You don’t just die, you break. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. Until there’s nothing left but pain, stretching endlessly, devouring you whole."
The room felt smaller.
"Death is the sound of your own screams, hoarse and raw, until your throat bleeds. It’s the mont your bones snap under soone else’s hands, the slow, agonizing realization that no one is coming to save you."
I couldn’t move.
"Death isn’t brave, Lorraine Anderson. It isn’t noble." His voice dipped lower, like a whisper from the abyss. "It’s begging. It’s pleading. It’s watching the life seep out of your body while your mind still claws for survival."
Kieran leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly.
"You say you’re not afraid of death." His golden eyes eyes glead under the dim light, cold and knowing. "That just ans you haven’t t it properly."
I could barely breathe.
His words lingered in the air, curling around like invisible chains, heavy and suffocating. I struggled to process, to move, but my body remained locked in place, as if paralyzed by his presence alone.
Then a sudden realization struck like a bolt of lightning, sending a chill down my spine.
"How do you know my na?" My voice ca out barely above a whisper, raw and uneven.
Kieran huffed, the sound deep and laced with amusent. It was almost a chuckle, but not quite.
"I am the Lycan prince," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Do you really think there’s anything related to this school that I do not know?"
The way he said it, the sheer confidence, made my skin prickle.
He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes glinting with sothing unreadable. "Lorraine Anderson. Eighteen years old. From of the ShadowFang Pack, your parents were killed for being traitors"
My breath hitched.
"But your pack let you live" Kieran continued smoothly, his voice a steady, predatory hum. "Not because you were strong. Not because you were worthy, but because you were deed too insignificant to even kill."
My hands trembled at my sides.
"You were tossed aside like a scrap, beaten and humiliated every single day." His eyes bore into mine, sharp as knives. "You are a feral. Weak. Powerless. Nothing."
I felt like I was standing naked before him.
Every word he spoke peeled away another layer, stripping down to the bare, raw truth. He wasn’t just talking, he was laying bare. And the worst part?
It felt like he was right.
I am a feral.
I am weak.
I am powerless
And right now, I do feel like nothing.
I clenched my fists, but Kieran wasn’t done.
"Ever since then, you’ve been crawling through life, willing yourself to survive, enduring pain because you had to." He tilted his head, studying like I was so pathetic little creature squirming beneath his gaze. "And now you’re here. Thinking you can fight back. Thinking that just because you’ve suffered, you’re suddenly untouchable."
His lips curled.
"But it’s just a camouflage, isn’t it?" His voice was softer now, almost a whisper, but it slithered under my skin like poison. "This strong deanor you’re putting up? It’s nothing but a flimsy mask to hide how weak you really are."
I hated how my heart slamd against my ribs.
"This school will break you, Lorraine," Kieran murmured, his golden eyes burning into mine. "Sooner than you expect."
He leaned in ever so slightly, his presence suffocating.
"You will break."
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