Maya's words hung in the air like a threat. The students around her—her "pack" chuckled, their eyes glowing with predatory amusement. To them, Faith was just a toy in expensive silk.
Faith tightened her grip on her backpack. She could feel the weight of the silver bracelet Killian had given her. One press, and the world would explode. But she remembered his words: Let them underestimate you.
"Hunting season implies you're capable of catching me, Maya," Faith said, her voice surprisingly steady. She stepped forward, forcing Maya to either move or engage. "But looking at your grades from back home, you'd definitely have trouble catching a cold."
The circle of students went silent. Maya's face flushed a deep, angry red. "You little…."
"Maya! Leave it," a sharp voice interrupted the tension.
A tall boy with auburn hair stepped forward. He looked like the others, but his eyes were calculating. "We have orientation in five minutes. Don't waste your energy on a charity case. If she's really a 'Nightshade Ward,' she'll be dead by midterms anyway. The curriculum for non-shifters is….non-existent."
Maya huffed, shoving Faith's shoulder as she passed. "This isn't the trenches, Faith. Here, if you can't shift, you're dead meat ."
The morning was a blur of hostile stares. Faith sat through the General Assembly, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. She was the only person in the room who didn't radiate a wolf's aura. She felt "quiet" in a room that was physically loud with power.
By the time lunch rolled around, her head was already spinning. She found a secluded corner of the library, hoping for some peace. She pulled out the black smartphone Killian had given her.
There was a message waiting.
Killian: Report.
Faith rolled her eyes. He was so bossy, even through text.
Faith: I'm alive. Maya is here. She's still a nightmare.
The reply was almost instant.
Killian: I know she's there. Don't engage. If she touches you, I'll handle her family's land-leases. Focus on your classes. I'm sending a car at 4:00 PM. Don't be late.
Faith sighed. He sounded like a protective guardian, but the memory of his hand on her cheek at the boutique told a different story. He didn't just care about his "investment." Faith knew There was something else simmering under his surface, something he was too proud to name.
Her afternoon class was Strategic Tactics. It was held in a high-tech arena with a massive digital battle board in the center.
"Today," the professor, a grey-haired Beta with a limp, announced, "we analyze the Great Divide War. Who can tell me the fatal flaw in the Crescent Pack's northern defense?"
Faith's hand didn't move, but her mind did. She knew this history. She had read about it in the library back home while scrubbing floors.
"Nobody?" the professor sighed. "Maya? You're a Crescent descendant."
Maya stood up, sounding bored. "They were outnumbered. Simple math."
"You are wrong," Faith said, her voice ringing out before she could stop herself.
The room turned. Maya glared. The professor raised an eyebrow. "You have a better theory, Miss….?"
"Faith," she said, standing up. "It wasn't math. It was topography. They ignored the frozen marshlands to the west because they thought the ice wouldn't hold a wolf's weight. But they forgot that a wolf in mid-shift is lighter. The enemy used half-shifted scouts to flank them."
The professor blinked. "That….is a Doctorate-level observation. How do you know that?"
"I read," Faith said simply.
From the back of the room, a low, melodic whistle broke the silence. Faith turned. A man she hadn't noticed before was leaning against the back wall. He had stormy blue eyes and a wicked, dangerous smirk.
Silas.
He wasn't a student. He was far too old, far too powerful. He was visiting, and his gaze was locked on Faith like a hawk on a mouse.
The bell rang, and Faith hurried out, her heart racing. Silas was the man who had paid to sell her. Killian's rival.
She was halfway to the gates when a black car, not Killian's, pulled up beside her. The window rolled down. Silas leaned out, his eyes dancing with a terrifying light.
"You're even smarter than the reports said," Silas drawled. "Killian is lucky he found you first. But luck….luck has a way of running out you know?"
"Stay away from me," Faith said, reaching for her bracelet.
"I wouldn't press that yet," Silas said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Killian tells you he's protecting you, doesn't he? But ask him about your mother, Faith. Ask him why he has her original journals locked in his private safe. He isn't just your 'Alpha.' He's your jailer."
He tossed a small, crumpled piece of paper out the window. It landed at her feet.
"See you at the gala, little bird."
The car sped off just as Killian's Rolls-Royce pulled up.
Killian stepped out of the car, his eyes immediately scanning the area. He saw the retreating car of his rival and his jaw tightened. He walked up to Faith, his hands gripping her shoulders.
"What did he say? Did he touch you?" Killian's voice was a low growl, his gold eyes flashing.
Faith looked at him, Silas's words still ringing in her ears. She looked at the man who had clothed her, fed her, and saved her, but also the man who kept her as a "debt-holder."
"He didn't touch me," Faith said, her voice trembling. "But Killian….How and why do you have my mother's journals?"
Killian's hands froze. The blood drained from his face, and for the first time, the powerful Alpha looked like he was genuinely caught red-handed.