Chapter 2 The Alpha

Ashmoor Academy, Day One

Seren had been at the academy for less than an hour, and already she was lost.

She had a black iron key labeled Valeblood, a schedule she barely understood, and zero clue how to find her dorm.

The castle seemed to rearrange itself whenever she looked away-hallways stretched longer, doors vanished, staircases turned when they weren't supposed to.

"This place is an actual nightmare," she muttered.

Then she heard the growling.

Low. Deep. Animalistic.

It came from the corridor ahead-where the torchlight flickered unnaturally, casting shadows that twitched and moved like they had minds of their own.

Seren froze.

"Hello?" she called. "Is someone there?"

The growl answered-louder now. Closer.

Her instincts screamed Run. But her feet didn't move.

A figure stepped from the darkness.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wild dark hair. Sharp, angular features.

And eyes like a storm-gray, electric, and furious.

He wore a black Ashmoor uniform, half-unbuttoned, with a silver crest that shimmered like a moonlit fang. His presence filled the space, heavy and dangerous. And he was looking straight at her like she'd just stepped into his territory.

"Who let you down here?" he said, voice rough and low.

"I-I got lost. I'm looking for the Valeblood dorm."

His eyes narrowed.

"You're her."

"Her who?"

"You smell like ash and moonfire," he growled, stepping closer. "You shouldn't be here."

She stepped back.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what?" he snapped. "Wander where you don't belong? Trigger half the damned blood wards in the East Wing?"

There was more than anger in his voice-it was restraint. Like every word was a battle not to shift into something else.

"I'm new, okay? I don't even know what a blood ward is, let alone how to trigger one!"

For a moment, the tension in his jaw eased. He looked at her again-really looked-and something flickered in his expression.

Confusion. Recognition. Hunger.

"You're Marked."

It wasn't a question.

Seren instinctively covered her forearm.

"What does that mean?"

His eyes darkened.

"It means you're going to get yourself killed. Or worse."

He turned, muscles tense like a caged animal.

"Stay away from me."

"Gladly," she shot back, heart pounding. "You're clearly a ray of sunshine."

He stopped. And then he did something unexpected. He sniffed the air-once, twice-then growled:

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

Before she could move, he was in front of her-faster than she could process-grabbing her wrist with one strong hand. Not hard, but firm. Dominant.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped.

His fingers flinched at her skin like he'd been burned. He let go instantly.

Their eyes met.

And for one breathless second-the air changed.

Like the world around them paused.

Like the castle was watching.

"You're dangerous," he said quietly. "To me. To everyone here."

Then he turned on his heel and vanished into the shadows.

Seren stood frozen in the corridor long after the boy disappeared.

The air still hummed with whatever that was-electricity, fury, recognition. Her wrist tingled where he'd touched her, like his energy had left a mark of its own.

You're dangerous... to me.

What the hell did that even mean?

She pressed a hand to her chest and forced herself to breathe.

Just a guy, she told herself. Just a totally unhinged, freakishly fast, hot, growly-

"Focus," she muttered. "Find your room. Lock the door. Maybe cry a little."

The Valeblood dorm sat in the west wing, behind a heavy arched door covered in runes.

Her key slid in easily-almost like the door wanted her inside.

The common room was dimly lit and strangely elegant, with high-backed velvet chairs, a roaring fireplace, and books that whispered when she walked by.

Her bedroom wasn't much, but it was hers: a four-poster bed with black curtains, a desk already stacked with old books titled things like Binding the Beast Within and Rituals for the Cursed. Comforting.

There was even a mirror with her name carved at the top.

But when she looked into it... her reflection blinked a second too late.

She stepped back fast.

"Nope. Not tonight."

She found the bathroom. Locked the door.

Peered under the sleeve of her hoodie again. The mark was still glowing faintly.

It pulsed like a heartbeat-hers, or someone else's.

You're Marked.

You smell like moonfire.

She ran cold water over her face, trying to wash it all away.

Did he know something? Was he cursed like her? Or just another twisted student playing monster?

Later that night, she wandered into the common area, drawn by the flicker of firelight-and voices.

Two girls were curled up on the velvet couches, wearing matching black uniforms with deep green trim.

One of them looked up and smirked.

"You're the new girl."

"Lucky me," Seren said.

"You met him, didn't you?"

Seren blinked.

"Who?"

The girl raised a brow.

"Rowan Thorne. Tall. Alpha. Scowly. Smells like wet pine and bad decisions."

Seren flushed.

"Maybe."

The other girl leaned in.

"Stay away from him. He's a ticking time bomb."

"Why?" Seren asked.

"He's cursed," the first girl whispered. "Worse than anyone else here. They say his whole pack died during a blood moon-and he's the only one who came back."

"Came back wrong," the second added. "He doesn't belong to any House. Not anymore."

Seren swallowed.

"What House is Valeblood?"

"Dead House," the first girl said casually. "For students with bloodlines tied to prophecy or forgotten magic."

Seren looked down at her glowing wrist.

Great.

That night, she fell into bed, exhausted.

And dreamed of a forest full of wolves.

They circled her in silence. Watched her with glowing eyes. Waiting.

One of them stepped forward. Eyes like a storm. Rowan.

He opened his mouth to speak-

-but his voice came out as a growl, low and broken.

Then the mark on her arm burned white-hot, and she woke up gasping.

Someone was in her room.

She sat up fast.

A girl stood at the foot of her bed. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Her voice barely a whisper.

"You shouldn't be here, Seren Blake."

Seren scrambled for her lamp-

-but the girl was gone.

Only the chill in the air remained.

And one word scratched into her mirror in frost:

CLAIMED.