Seris's POV
Getting into Blackthorn Academy as a human was easy. The problem was surviving as one.
Other than the fact that every single schoolmate was a werewolf that could easily tear me apart in a second if they got excited enough, I'd heard some interesting stories about them, each one as macabre as the next.
I emptied all the doubts in my chest as a sigh as I glide on my scooter, and I reassured myself, as I'd been doing since the day I got the admission offer.
I was going to find whoever killed my father, Rowan Vance, five years ago. The killer was lurking behind these walls, and I owe it to my father to make him pay for his crimes.
I slowed my scooter just before the iron archway, my fingers tightening around the handles as if it might decide to flee without me.
The academy rose ahead—ancient stone walls, narrow towers wrapped in ivy, iron bars etched with wolf sigils whose eyes seemed to follow every movement beneath them.
Father had walked through these gates once. As a student like me, then as a teacher, until five years ago, when he came out as a corpse, his chest ripped to shreds by a wolf's claws.
Memories from that day flooded my mind in cruel, painful snippets. It was the first day I knew what a corpse was, and the first example was my own father.
I blinked away whatever moisture burned behind my eyes at the memories. I slipped one hand into my jacket, brushing my fingers against the worn leather of his diary tucked close to my ribs. It's stupid, but the familiar texture steadied me.
The moment I passed through the gates, everything changed. The air thickened, like the pressure before a lightning strike.
Father and I were amongst the few half-breeds in New Haven, half-wolf, half-human. And while my father had a stronger wolf, with my grandfather being a full wolf, my mother was human. Hence, whatever wolf blood might exist in me, it would need a microscope to be seen.
No one in Blackthorn had the time for that. When they smell me, they smell something different, something human, something weaker.
With each second, my scooter glides deeper into the school, conversations flew around the courtyard, stuttered and died, one by one, until the space filled with a heavy, unnatural silence.
Boots slowed, and bodies turned as I passed.
I didn't need to look up to know they're staring.
I'd smell them even before I heard them—sharp, wild, and earthy. Wolves. Dozens of them. My stomach twisted as the scent flooded my senses, filling my lungs, stronger than anything I've ever experienced.
I dismounted and locked my scooter, my hands trembling despite my effort to keep them steady.
I took three steps before the whispers started.
"Is that… a human?" someone said from somewhere.
I'd always known I was human, but hearing someone call me that made it feel derogatory. I felt like a cat would feel to humans—inferior.
"She smells wrong." Someone sniffed loudly.
"Yeah. She does."
"Then is she really a human?" another wolf scoffed. "Is it really possible for a human to be stupid enough to enroll in Blackthorn?"
I didn't bother to reply or entertain their curiosity. I kept walking.
The trick wasn't to completely act as if I belonged. It was to act like I don't care. Hopefully, they wouldn't care either.
Each step of my boots on the courtyard broadcasted my presence. Dark uniforms blurred at the edges of my vision as students openly stared now—golden eyes tracking me, nostrils flaring. Some look amused. Some annoyed.
A few looked like they were deciding whether I was prey or pet.
I wanted to scream at them that I was neither, but I knew that was suicide. I was prey in a den of predators. I couldn't rely on might, but on tact.
"Hey," a voice called, louder, and it seemed to be close to me, too close.
I didn't turn.
"Human," he called again, his tone growing some notches higher, angrier.
A hand brushed my arm. And I shook it off, continuing.
He caught my shoulder again. The touch was tight, the thick fingers crushing my shoulder bones, sending a cold burn straight through me. I was spun around, heart slamming against my ribs.
Three boys stood behind me, older than most of the students I passed. Bigger. Broader. Their smiles were sharp with mischief.
"You lost?" one of them asked, eyes sliding over me like I'm something stuck to his boot. "This isn't a charity school."
"I'm enrolled," I said. My voice stayed steady, even though my pulse was racing. "Move."
The boy watched me for a moment with a narrowed gaze, trying to make me out, then finally, he laughed. "That's funny."
Another stepped closer, invading my space. "You don't even have a wolf," he said. "What are you planning to do here? Clean the halls?"
Something stirred in my chest. A pressure. A spark growing into a fire. I put it out quickly before I did something stupid that would get me torn to shreds like father.
My jaw tightened. "Just back off, boys."
Instead, they circled me slowly. The air felt heavier with every step they took. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my legs won't move.
I wasn't a coward, and I refuse to be afraid.
I was still deciding what to do when a growl cut through the courtyard. Low and dangerous. It jarred through the courtyard with a life of its own.
The boys froze instantly.
I looked up just in time to see a figure step between us—a boy about my age, tall and relaxed, hands shoved casually into his pockets. His smile was easy, almost lazy, and his eyes glowed a warning amber.
"Problem?" he asked lightly, strolling closer.
The boy closest to me scoffed, masking his irritation a bit. "We steer clear of your business. Can't you do the same for ours?"
The amber-eyed boy's smile sharpened. "I am sorry, Lex, but it doesn't work that way," he said, his upper lip lifting in a dark, dangerous smirk. "Now. Are you and your band of fools going to leave her alone, or should we get a bit of action before you do?"
The leader of the boys growled, "Fuck off," while brandishing his knuckles menacingly.
"Yeah, I will." Amber-eyed boy smirked. And before I could blink, he moved.
It all happened in a blur of seconds. Wolves were surprisingly fast, I'd heard. Now seeing it, I couldn't believe my eyes, they rounded to large zeros in my head as I took in the scene.
They'd been a crack of bone against stone, and then one of the boys was screaming, clutching his wrist as he writhed in pain on the floor. The sound echoed across the courtyard, drawing every gaze.
The other two stumbled back instantly.
"Now, will you leave her alone, or should we get some more action?" the boy said calmly. He flexed his arms, shuffling his feet dramatically. "Oh my, am I in the mood." He chuckled at his own display.
The boys didn't argue. They quickly bent down and dragged their injured friend away, heads bowed, arms shivering all the way.
The courtyard exhaled as silence filled in at their departure.
I stared at my rescuer, heart hammering. "Thank you," I managed.
He turned to me, his grin returning like nothing happened. "Lucien Ludwigvon," he said, offering a mock bow. "Welcome to Blackthorn."
Ludwigvon. That name rang a warning bell in my head, sharp and loud. I stilled. My gaze narrowed fast on him as realization struck. He was one of the popular Ludwigvon triplet from father's diary.
My gaze strayed, and I noticed the other two a few feet behind him—identical in face, but nothing else.
Just like their brother, they were dangerously handsome if one was attracted to the tough, Alpha male type. But unlike their brother, they were reserved.
One of them watched me with cold, unreadable eyes. His posture was rigid and controlled, his presence heavy enough to make my skin prickle.
He didn't look impressed with his brother. His lips curled tight instead.
"You shouldn't have interfered," he said quietly to Lucien, low and authoritative.
Lucien shrugged. "She needed help. So I helped her," he said.
He gestured at the cold one with a throw of his arm. "By the way, he is Caelen Ludwigvon, my brother. And…" he dragged on the word as he nudged his eyes to the other brother. "That's Vaelis." He said.
Then he leaned close and whispered to me, dramatically blocking off his lips with a hand. "You might want to keep clear of him more than those bullies. He's worse." He grinned, chuckling lightly.
Vaelis heard him, but still didn't speak. He just tilted his head slightly, pale green eyes flicking over me with an unnerving focus. He looked as though he was studying me, dismantling me piece by piece in his mind. His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile.
I notice their hands at the same time. Three rings. Black metal. Etched with a familiar symbol—one I've seen sketched again and again in the margins of father's diary.
My breath caught, and I doubled my gaze on the rings just to make sure I was seeing things wrong. But I wasn't. It was a ring bearing the insignia of the Night Fang.
The same secret group in Blackthorn that father's diary had alluded his death.