THE ALPHA IS IN MY FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 3

ELIJAH'S POV

The letter sits on my desk.

I have been staring at it for the past hour. The Prime University crest stares back at me from the top of the page. The path my father chose for me before I was even born.

My room is large and perfect. Dark wood furniture. A neatly made bed. Shelves lined with books. Tall windows looking out over Union Central, where the city's lights glow like a thousand tiny eyes watching me.

I run a hand through my hair and let out a breath I did not realize I was holding.

I hate it here.

The house is grand but silent. Thick walls. High ceilings. Staff move through the halls without making a sound. Everyone speaks only when spoken to. Laughter is absent from these rooms. Everyone carries themselves with a strict seriousness. The carefully constructed order of the Zenith household, everything should be perfect!

I am constantly watched and constantly judged. Every action must be perfect, because I am the heir, and there should be no room for mistakes.

I look down at my hands. They are steady, but I can feel the tremor building beneath my skin. The anxiety that never quite leaves me. The weight of my father's expectations pressing down on my chest.

And the illness. The thing everyone pretends does not exist.

My wolf is too powerful for my body. I can feel it sometimes, the way it strains beneath my skin, the way it pushes against my bones like it is trying to break free. The healers say it will eventually destroy me if we do not find a cure. My father knows this. He knows I am dying.

But he only cares about appearances. He cares about the Prime Pack's reputation. He cares about making sure the world never sees weakness in his bloodline.

So I sit here. In this perfect, cold room. I open the acceptance letter and just stare at it.

A soft knock comes at the door.

"Master Elijah." A servant's voice, quiet and careful. "Dinner is served. The Prime Alpha requests your presence in the dining room."

I get startled for a moment. Then I fold the letter and set it aside.

"I will be there," I say.

The servant's footsteps retreat down the hall.

I walk through the corridors of the Zenith house. The walls are lined with portraits of my ancestors, their painted eyes following me as I pass. The floors are polished marble, cool beneath my feet. Chandeliers hang at intervals, their crystals catching the fading light from the tall windows.

The dining room is a space of formality and silence. A long table polished to a mirror shine dominates the center. A chandelier hangs above, scattering candlelight across the walls like fractured gold. The staff stand at attention along the edges of the room, their hands clasped behind their backs, their eyes fixed on the floor.

My mother, Eleanor, sits at the table. She has the same dark hair and sharp features that I inherited from her. Her poker face is in place, the way it always is when my father is present. She looks at me as I enter, and I see something flicker in her eyes. Concern. Sympathy. But she keeps her silence as always.

My nanny stands in the corner, her hands clasped in front of her. She has been with our family since I was a child. She just hovers like a ghost, waiting to be needed.

My father sits at the head of the table. His posture is immaculate. His expression is unreadable. Leander Zenith keeps his face neutral. He never offers congratulations. He never shows warmth.

I take my seat.

He looks at me across the table, and I know exactly what is coming.

"I assume you have read your letter," he says.

"Yes."

"And?"

I meet his gaze. I do not look away.

"I do not want to go to Prime University."

The silence that follows is deafening. The staff freezes mid-motion. My mother looks down at her plate. The nanny's hands tighten at her sides. My father's expression does not change, but I see the faint tightening of his jaw.

"You do not want to go."

"No."

"Explain."

I take a breath. I have rehearsed this in my head a hundred times.

"I want to go to Silver Leaf University. I want to study medicine."

Leander sets down his fork. It makes a soft clink against the plate. The sound cuts through the silence like a blade.

"Medicine," he repeats.

"Yes."

"The heir to the Prime Pack studies leadership. He does not study medicine."

"I do not care what the heir does. I care about what I want." I say, raising my voice, pissed at all this her thing.

My mother flinches. A tiny movement. Barely perceptible. But I catch it. She knows this is dangerous. She knows my father does not tolerate defiance.

Leander's eyes do not leave mine. "You are being weak, Elijah."

"I am being honest," I say as my hands tremble.

"You are being foolish."

"I am dying. Dad... Look at me!" My eyes are almost teary now.

The words hang in the air. I have never said them so bluntly. Not to him. Not to anyone. But I am tired of pretending. Tired of sitting in this perfect, cold house, waiting for my body to give out while everyone around me pretends like everything is fine.

Leander does not flinch. He does not look away. His voice is calm, measured, and utterly cold.

"Your illness is not an excuse to throw away your future. Stop being weak. You are an alpha, act like one" My dad says with a stern commanding voice.

"My illness is exactly why I need to study medicine. I need to find a cure."

"You need to fulfill your duty."

"To who? To you?" I stand up. My chair scrapes against the floor. The staff step back. The nanny flinches. "I have done everything you have ever asked of me. Every lesson. Every appearance. Every performance. I have been the perfect heir, the perfect son. And what have I gotten in return? A death sentence."

"Elijah..." my mother starts, but Leander silences her with a raised hand.

"Sit down," he says.

"No."

"I will not repeat myself."

"Sit down," he says, cold and quiet. "Or I will make you sit down."

I stand there for a moment, my hands clenched at my sides, my heart pounding. I want to scream. I want cry. I want to walk out of this house and never come back.

But I do not. I sit down.

The meal continues in silence. Everyone keeps their eyes on their plates. The staff moves around us like shadows. I push my food around my plate without eating a single bite.

Dinner barely finishes before I excuse myself.

I am walking toward the staircase when my father's voice stops me.

"Elijah."

I turn. He is standing in the doorway to the dining room. His silhouette is sharp against the candlelight behind him. I cannot read his expression.

"If you truly want to go to Silver Leaf University," he says, "I can arrange it."

I stare at him. "What?"

"I can speak to the principal. We can make up a story about why you should go there. It will be easier than dealing with your tantrums."

A tantrum. That is what he calls it. As if my life is nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

"Why would you do that?" I ask.

Leander smiles. It is a cold and calculating smile.

"Having a healer as a leader is a convincing story. The Union will trust you more if they believe you are studying to help them." He pauses. "You will still succeed me one day, with or without a leadership education."

I feel sick. He is not doing this for me. He is doing this because it will make the Union trust the Zenith name even more.

But I do not care.

I need to be close to the Greenhouse if I ever want the chance to find a cure.

"Fine," I say. "Arrange it."

I turn and walk away before he can say anything else.

The next morning, my Beta arrives.

Kyle has been with me since we were children. He is more of my best friend than my bodyguard. He is steady, loyal, and calm. He is also the only person who treats me like a human being instead of a symbol. I can always be myself with him.

"We are supposed to go to Prime University today," he says, standing in my doorway. "To collect our uniforms."

"Plans have changed," I say. "I am not going to Prime University."

Kyle blinks. "You are not."

"Actually, WE are not," I say as I look straight at him

" We are going to SLU."

A pause. He studies me for a long moment. "What the hell, Elijah!"

"I am sorry man, but you know I always wanted to go, and my dad somehow agreed to arrange for my transfer, but you are also going"

"Alright. But you know I suck at organic chemistry since high school. Be prepared to do my homework"

Just like that. No questions. No judgment. Just acceptance.

I feel something ease in my chest.

"I promise," I say.

He nods, "Okay, tell me when the arrangement is done. I better go and inform my parents." He then leaves without another word.

I lay back on my bed and turn back to the window. I can feel my wolf moving like an electric pulse all throughout my body. Craving to take over.