Chapter 3: Whispers and Warnings
Wynter's POV
The classroom buzzed with low conversations as I slipped through the door, keeping my head down and my hair falling forward to hide the faint bruise on my cheekbone. My scalp still throbbed where Natalie had yanked my hair, and my shoulder ached from being slammed against the wall. Anne's threat echoed in my head: Next time you even look at him, it won't just be your hair we're pulling. I forced myself to breathe through the humiliation, to keep my hands from trembling as I gripped my bag strap. Don't let them see. Don't give them the satisfaction.
I wasn't even halfway to my usual seat when I caught fragments of conversation drifting from a cluster of students near the windows.
"—can't believe she actually showed up at the party—"
"Did you see the video? The way she looked at him was desperate—"
"Anne was right to put her in her place. That kind of bad luck shouldn't be allowed near anyone, let alone the future Alpha—"
My wolf stirred with a warning growl, but I forced myself to keep walking, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. Ignore them. They don't matter.
"—honestly, I heard she was trying to seduce him—"
"Of course she was. What else does someone like her have to offer?"
"Poor Anne. Imagine having to deal with some nobody Beta making eyes at your fiancé—"
The word fiancé hit like a slap. Chase and Anne weren't officially engaged, but everyone treated it as inevitable—the Sterling heir binding himself to Bloodrock's Alpha daughter. The fact that the Moon Goddess had other plans didn't seem to matter to anyone but me. My wolf paced restlessly inside, her confusion and longing for Chase clawing at my control. He's not ours, I told her firmly. He can never be ours.
I dropped into my seat and pulled out my notebook, staring at the blank page. The classroom was a mix of modern and traditional design, with large windows and heavy wooden beams engraved with Pack symbols. Moonshadow Academy housed students aged 14 to 22, divided into Elite and General Classes—Chase and Anne reigned over the Elite, while I was stuck in General, a constant reminder of my lower status.
The door swung open again, and Rosalie marched straight to my desk, dropping into the seat beside me with enough force to make the chair scrape loudly.
"Morning," she said brightly, her voice pitched to carry. "How are you feeling today, Wyn?"
I glanced up, noting the way her eyes were fixed on the group by the windows, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. "I'm fine."
"Good. Because I was thinking we should go to the library after class."
The group had gone silent, their stares like pinpricks on my neck. Rosalie was making a show of treating me normally, refusing to let them pretend I was invisible. Part of me wanted to tell her to stop, but another part was grateful beyond words.
Before I could respond, Scarlett Hayes stalked over, her heels clicking against the tile. She stopped just behind Rosalie's chair, arms crossed.
"You know, Rosalie," she said, her voice dripping with false concern, "you really should be more careful about the company you keep. Bad things have a way of happening to people who get too close to her. Haven't you noticed? Since she arrived, plants around campus have been dying left and right. Even the ancient oak by the library is withering. That kind of curse doesn't discriminate."
Rosalie turned in her seat, her smile never wavering. "Bullshit! I'd love to hear you repeat it in front of Headmaster Grey."
Scarlet's eyes narrowed. "It's advice. Everyone knows she brought death to her Mom, and then her father died. Do you really want to risk ending up the same way? Dead in a ditch somewhere because you were too stubborn to see the truth?"
My wolf surged forward with a snarl, my claws starting to emerge. My father's death—killed during a mission in Silvermoon Territory two years ago, an assassination blamed on the Sterlings yet unproven—burned in my chest. But Rosalie was faster—she stood so abruptly that her chair tipped backward, her hands slamming down on the desk.
"You listen to me, you vicious little—" she started, but I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.
"Rosalie," I said quietly. "Don't."
She turned to look at me, her eyes blazing, but I shook my head. "It's not worth it. Please."
For a moment, I thought she might ignore me, but then she exhaled sharply and stepped back. "Fine. But if she says one more word—"
"She won't," I said, turning my gaze to Scarlet. "Because she knows that if she does, she'll have to answer to more than just Headmaster Grey."
Scarlet huffed and turned away, rejoining her group, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
Rosalie sank back into her seat, her jaw still clenched. "I hate them."
"I know," I said softly. "But you can't fight my battles for me, Rosie."
"The way they treat you isn't fair," she said fiercely. "You're the kindest person I know, Wyn, and they don't deserve you."
I just nodded and turned back to my notebook, pretending not to notice when Rosalie reached over and squeezed my hand.
---
By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. The morning had been a gauntlet of pointed stares and muttered comments, each one chipping away at my composure.
Moonshadow Academy sprawled across a vast campus in the neutral zone between the three major Pack territories, its red brick buildings connected by cobblestone paths lined with ancient oaks, though I noticed some leaves were browning prematurely, just as Scarlet had said.
We were halfway to the cafeteria when I heard voices drifting from around the corner. The cafeteria was a massive three-story building reflecting Pack hierarchy—General Class students on the first floor, Elite Class on the second, and an exclusive Alpha-only zone on the third.
"—heard they actually let one into the school—"
"A Rogue? Are they insane?"
I slowed, and Rosalie shot me a questioning look. I tilted my head toward the voices, and we edged closer, pausing near a stone archway. The air smelled of pine and damp earth.
"It's that new rehabilitation program," the first voice continued. "Headmaster Grey thinks he can 'reform' them or something. Like you can train a wild animal to be civilized."
"That's disgusting. Rogues are dangerous. They're criminals and outcasts for a reason."
"Exactly. I'm staying as far away from him as possible. Who knows what kind of disease he's carrying—"
My wolf went still, her attention sharpening. A Rogue in the Academy? The idea was almost unthinkable—Rogues were the lowest of the low, exiled wolves forced to wear silver suppression collars as both restraint and humiliation.
Rosalie tugged on my sleeve. "Come on. Let's get out of here before they start talking about you again."
I nodded, but questions were already piling up. Who was this Rogue? Why had Headmaster Grey allowed him in under the Rehabilitation Program?
We stepped outside, the path winding through a small courtyard surrounded by low stone walls etched with moon phases. The autumn breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant wolf howls from the training fields beyond. I was just starting to relax when I saw him.
A figure near the edge of the courtyard, his back to us, surrounded by three Betas who were circling him like predators, their voices raised in taunts. The figure didn't respond, but there was something in the set of his shoulders that made my chest tighten with recognition.
Then one of the Betas shoved him, and he turned—just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his face.
My breath caught.
Jax.
He was taller than I remembered, broader in the shoulders, his dark hair falling into eyes that burned with barely contained fury. And around his neck was a silver collar—the mark of a Rogue, glinting in the sunlight like a badge of shame.
My mind flashed back to years ago, when I was just a child, sneaking food to a starving boy in the marshes near Wanderer's Haven. Jax, who'd called me "Sis" and looked at me like I was his savior.
The Betas shoved him again, and this time he staggered.
I didn't think. I just moved.
"Stop!" I shouted, running forward and throwing myself between Jax and the Betas, my arms spread wide. "Don't touch him!"
The Betas froze, staring at me with shock and derision. Rosalie skidded to a halt behind me, her hand gripping my shoulder.
"Wyn, what are you—"
I turned to Jax, my heart pounding, and met his eyes—those familiar, haunted eyes that had once looked at me like I was the only light in darkness.
"Jax," I breathed, my voice breaking. "What are you doing here?"