The tallest of the wolves stepped closer, his voice low but clear.
"You got a big mouth for someone who doesn't smell like pack."
Alaric tilted his head, his eyes cold but unreadable.
"Oh, so now there's a rule about who gets to speak? Must've missed that in the school handbook."
A muscle in the wolf's jaw ticked. "You insulted wolves."
Alaric's smirk deepened. "No. I insulted idiots. Can't help it if you heard your name echoing in there."
A quiet growl rippled from one of the wolves behind him.
Armand sighed, leaning against a desk. "Here we go."
The wolf in front took another step closer. "Say that again."
Alaric didn't flinch. If anything, his voice dropped lower, sharper, colder.
"Why? You hard of hearing, mutt?"
That did it. The air cracked, the kind of soundless warning that came right before chaos.
For a second, no one moved. Just glares, predator against predator, tension burning between them.
