Chapter 2: The Alpha Academy
1039 Words
The morning began with blood in the air.
Not real blood—yet—but the heavy metallic scent of adrenaline, sweat, and dominance that pulsed through the academy courtyard like a living thing. Aria stood in line with thirty other trainees, her hands balled into fists behind her back, trying to look bored instead of on edge.
“Welcome to hell,” the drillmaster barked, pacing in front of them like a wolf sizing up meat. “This isn’t your home. It’s your proving ground. If you want home, go back to your mommy and suckle. If you want to lead, you earn it here.”
Beside her, one of the bigger trainees—a brick of a boy with a shaved head and eyes too small for his face—snorted. “Do they always talk like that, or is he trying too hard?”
Aria didn’t respond.
Rule one: Don’t stand out. Rule two: Don’t make friends. Rule three: Don’t let anyone get close enough to smell you.
“And if you survive long enough to matter,” the drillmaster went on, “maybe you’ll learn something before your bones give out.”
He stopped in front of her. Too close.
Aria didn’t flinch.
His nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed. Her skin prickled. Damn it. The scent-blocking salve was wearing thin already. She resisted the urge to shift her weight or wipe her palms on her pants.
“What’s your name?”
She met his gaze. “Ari Rylen.”
Something flickered in his expression. Recognition. Maybe respect. More likely suspicion.
“Rylen,” he repeated, then moved on. “You’ll start in Level Three. You screw up, I throw you to Level One. Or out. That simple.”
A murmur of surprise rolled through the group. Starting in Level Three was rare, especially for a newcomer.
Kade was watching her from across the field, arms crossed, unreadable as ever. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night before. He hadn’t pressed again. But something about the way his eyes lingered made her skin buzz.
Was it curiosity?
Or something deeper?
***
Training hit like a freight train.
Combat began at dawn, with rounds of sparring that left bruises blooming like war-paint. Aria held her own, barely, matching strength with precision and speed. She let the bigger wolves burn out early, then swept in with careful strikes—enough to win, not enough to be memorable.
By noon, they’d run two miles uphill and back, completed weapons drills, and shifted twice for form correction. Every time she felt her wolf stir too close to the surface, she clenched her teeth and forced it back down.
Her scent. Her real scent—if it broke through, she was dead.
“Again,” the trainer growled as she landed from a high kick, wobbling slightly. “Your balance is off.”
Aria reset her stance, panting.
Behind her, someone muttered, “She’s quick, but skinny. Bet he breaks in a week.”
That was the third time someone had commented on her size, her speed, her softness. She gritted her teeth and lunged forward with a perfect strike to the opponent’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
“Next,” she snapped.
Gasps rippled through the line.
The trainer said nothing, only nodded once.
***
Later, as the sky turned orange with the setting sun, Aria limped back to the dorm with sweat-soaked hair plastered to her forehead. Her hands trembled from exhaustion. Her ribs ached from a hit she hadn’t dodged fast enough.
She pushed open the door to find Kade shirtless again, towel around his neck, staring at the mirror as he wiped sweat from his face.
His eyes met hers through the reflection. “You lasted the day. Impressive.”
She let the door close behind her and dropped her gear by the wall. “Was there a bet I didn’t know about?”
“Not a bet.” He turned. “But no one expected the new guy to go straight to Level Three.”
She shrugged. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”
“You’re quiet. Focused.” Kade’s gaze narrowed. “You fight like someone who’s always holding back. Like you’re afraid of what might happen if you let go.”
Aria swallowed. “Maybe I don’t like losing control.”
He stepped closer. Not threatening—but definitely testing.
“I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t lose control once in a while.”
She met his gaze head-on. “Then don’t trust me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Too late.”
***
Over the next few days, the rhythm of the academy wrapped around her like armor.
Wake. Train. Bleed. Hide.
Repeat.
Aria earned bruises and silence. The others began to respect her—or avoid her. Either was fine. She slept with one eye open, senses sharpened for any flicker of suspicion.
But what scared her more than discovery was Kade.
Because he watched her. Not constantly. Not obviously. But enough.
When she dodged too cleanly. When she didn’t flinch at pain. When she froze a second too long after a wolf’s snarl.
He noticed.
One night, after lights-out, his voice floated across the room.
“You’re hiding something.”
Aria didn’t move. “Everyone here is hiding something.”
“Not like you.”
A beat of silence stretched long between them. Her heart pounded. She stared at the ceiling.
“You don’t shift,” he said quietly. “Not once, not even during conditioning.”
Aria clenched her jaw.
“And when you’re angry,” he added, “your eyes go too still. Like you’re holding your breath instead of letting your wolf out.”
She said nothing.
“Whatever it is,” he continued, “it’s dangerous.”
She finally rolled onto her side. “Then stay away.”
“I’m not afraid of danger.”
“Maybe you should be.”
His voice dropped. “Funny thing is... you don’t smell like danger.”
Her breath caught.
“You smell like something else.”
A longer pause. The silence between them felt like a drawn bowstring.
“Like something familiar.”
- Writer
