Chapter 51 51
ARIELLE'S POV
My eyes fluttered open weakly. I made sure they looked unfocused, bleary. And I saw it – that flash of raw, motherly concern surfacing through the ice. It was a look I’d seen maybe a handful of times in the last ten years, always quickly buried. It was there now, wide and stark in her eyes.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice low, her gaze scanning my face.
I swallowed, my throat parched. “I’m tired,” I whispered, the truth of it making the words shaky.
I braced myself. For the disappointment, for the cold dismissal, for the “I told you you weren’t strong enough” speech.
But it didn’t come. She didn’t yell. She didn’t even sigh. She just… got up. She brushed the sand from her knees, her movements suddenly brisk, almost businesslike, as if to cover the worry that had just been exposed.
“It’s fine,” she said, her voice back to its usual, clipped tone. “That’s enough training for today. Utilize what you’ve learned.” It wasn’t praise; it was an order.
I just nodded, too stunned to speak.
“Go to your room. Have some rest.” With that, she was already turning, walking toward the gate of the training pit.
A strange, reckless courage, born from exhaustion and that fleeting glimpse of her fear, made me speak. “Were you just worried,” I called out, my voice rough, “that you’d lost me for good?”
My question made her stop dead. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, looking at her rigid back. She barely glanced over her shoulder, her profile sharp against the bright sky. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she said, the words flat, final. Then she left, the gate clanging shut behind her.
I sank back into the sand, but a tiny, wobbly smile touched my lips. She hadn’t denied it. She’d just told me not to be silly. For Luna Serena, that was practically an admission.
A minute later, two young training Gammas hurried into the pit, their expressions carefully neutral. “The Luna sent us to assist you to your quarters,” one said, offering a hand. They couldn’t say it, but I was sure. Mother had sent them.
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The next afternoon I found myself in one of Seal College’s main lecture halls. It was a vast, echoing space, but it was barely half-full. Maybe a few dozen new students were scattered across the rows. I’d chosen a seat at the very back, tucked into the corner, and I’d pulled the hood of my jacket up, partly to hide my face. I guess I don’t have as much bravado as I pretend. The last thing I wanted was for some sharp-eyed wolf to pick up my lack of scent, to point and whisper I was wolfless. I wished desperately that Mandy was here. With her, I could have slunk in unnoticed, or maybe even skipped this boring orientation altogether.
But I couldn’t afford to skip. For someone like me, orientation wasn’t just an introduction; it was a survival guide. I needed every scrap of information I could get to navigate this world.
At the front, the Dean stood behind a polished wooden podium. He was a bald, chubby man of average height—the kind of unremarkable person you’d forget five minutes after meeting him. Lols.
He droned on about the college’s code of conduct, its honor system, its illustrious history.
“Seal College stands out not just within Crimson Valley,” he announced, puffing out his chest slightly, “but across various packs in cities worldwide. This is why Alphas from distant territories seek placement for their heirs here.”
He went on, his voice taking on a grave tone. “Progression here does not depend on age, but on awakening. The traditional path is clear: a shifter attends only after their first successful shift.” His eyes swept over the small crowd. “However, a small… exception is made. For those of high potential, of certain… lineages, we permit attendance before the awakening. They follow an accelerated track, with the expectation that their wolf will rise during their studies and ethical trainings.”
My stomach twisted. His gaze seemed to linger in the general area of the back rows. I pulled my hood a little lower, praying I wasn’t glowing with ‘wolfless exception’ vibes.
“So, for those who are still… waiting,” he continued, choosing his words with care, “you must buckle up. The expectation is that your wolf will awaken before your freshman year concludes. The pressure is part of the process.”
He paused, letting that sink in. A few students shifted uncomfortably. “To help distinguish and organize our student body,” he said, brightening, “you will each be issued an identity badge. These badges also denote your… standing.”
He held up a small, shiny pin. It was a deep, burnished bronze. “The Aurum badge is for those who have already attained recognized rank within their home packs—Gammas, Deltas, those of proven skill.”
He held up another, this one a bright, silvery steel. “The Argent badge is for those whose wolves have awakened and are considered of standard strength.”
He reached for a third box. The air in the room seemed to still. “And the badge for those whose wolves have not yet awakened, or who are…”
A girl near the front, with a sleek black braid and a smirk, shot her hand up. “You mean for the humans?” she asked, her voice dripping with playful contempt. A ripple of laughter spread through the hall.
THUMP.
The Dean didn’t shout. He simply brought his fist down on the wooden podium. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was a solid, authoritative crack that cut through the laughter like a knife. Silence swallowed the room instantly.
He fixed the smirking girl with a look that could have frozen lava. Then his eyes swept over all of us, a slow, warning pass. They brushed over my hooded form but didn’t pause.
“And the badge for wolfless persons,” he said, his voice now cold and clear, “will be…” He paused, a long, deliberate stretch of silence.
I held my breath. This was it. He’d name it, and from that moment on, anyone wearing it would be a target. A quest for the bored, strong wolves to pick on.
He let the silence hang until it was almost painful. Then he simply said, “That information is not useful at this time. You will receive your badges during your first day. Dismissed.”
A wave of disappointed murmurs erupted—clearly, some had been hoping for a spectacle. I, however, let out a shuddering breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Not useful. It was a bureaucratic brush-off, and it was the best possible outcome. No label. No immediate scarlet letter.
The second he finished speaking, I was up and moving. I weaved through the slowly mingling students, head down, not making eye contact. I didn’t want to socialize. I didn’t want to answer questions about my pack or my wolf. I just wanted to get the next, more daunting part of the day over with.
Outside, the late afternoon sun was warm. On a whim, I decided not to hail a taxi immediately to Dead Moon territory. The college was on the city’s edge, and the walk would let me clear my head, maybe work off some nervous energy. I took a path that wound through a manicured park bordering the campus.
But the peaceful feeling didn’t last. About ten minutes in, the nice houses gave way to a quieter, tree-lined service road. The sound of traffic faded. My skin began to prickle.
I felt like I was being followed.
I slowed my pace, listening. There it was—a soft, steady footfall, matching my rhythm but staying just out of sight. I stopped, my heart starting a quick, nervous tap against my ribs. The path ahead was empty. The path behind…
I turned.
And there he was. Much closer than I’d thought. He must have closed the distance silently. He stood barely five feet away, leaning casually against the trunk of an old oak, those familiar, treacherous green eyes fixed on me with a smile that didn’t reach them.
“Hi, baby.”