Where stars collide

Wolves in sheep clothing

chapter 5: Wolves in sheep clothing

Isa's pov

Damian must have a death wish. He swerves recklessly, almost colliding with a sleek, shiny convertible. The horn blares, but Damian doesn’t care. He guns the bike forward, reaching the parking lot just seconds before the other driver. In his hurry, he nearly topples me off the bike.

I leap off angrily.

“You almost got me killed, Damian! What the hell?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his messy hair. “But you’re still in one piece, right? Plus, if I didn’t snag this spot, we’d be stuck parking all the way down the driveway.”

He gestures toward the farthest end of the lot, where the road stretches past perfectly manicured hedges and into the distance. Admittedly, it’s a long walk, but it’s shaded by towering oaks and offers way more privacy. I wouldn’t have minded parking there.

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can say anything, Damian jumps off the bike so fast that the sudden movement knocks me off balance. My feet slipped, and I landed hard on the pavement.

“Damian!” I screamed, glaring up at him.

He’s doubled over, laughing hysterically. I scramble to my feet, my cheeks burning.

“What was that for?”

He just laughs harder.

Furious, I punched him in the arm—hard. He barely flinches. “You’re such an ass,” I mutter, brushing dirt off my pants.

Ignoring him, I took in the surroundings. The parking lot is lined with pristine cars—sleek convertibles, glossy SUVs, and, yes, even a sports car or two. Damian’s old, battle-scarred bike looks absurdly out of place. I shake my head.

“What does the Alpha hope to find in this vain little town?” I muttered under my breath.

Damian’s sharp ears caught my words. His laughter dies instantly, and he bares his teeth at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Most people would find that look terrifying. Me? I’ve known him too long to be scared.

I meet his gaze without flinching.

“There’s nothing here,” I say flatly. “Just rich folks and shallow kids. What could they possibly care about a stupid prophecy?”

I turn away, brushing the last specks of dirt from my clothes. Before I can take a step toward the school, Damian’s hand clamps around my arm, stopping me cold.

“Careful, Isadora,” he says. His voice is low, steady, and full of authority. He says my name like our father used to.

My blood turns to ice. My eyes narrow as I yank my arm free with enough force to make my shoulder twinge.

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed. My voice sharp and hard.

He doesn’t respond, but I can feel his gaze boring into my back as I walk away. I don’t look back. I don’t care if he follows. He can go to hell for all I care.

Our father is dead. Banished from the pack, stripped of his honor. And here we are, his children, paying for his sins.

The memory cuts like a knife, but I shove it aside. I won’t think about him. I won’t feel anything. My heart froze the day they found his body—headless, a disgrace.

I take a deep breath and step into the halls of Starlet Academy. The air feels cool and thick, like a storm waiting to break.

The hallway buzzes with life, overflowing with students clustered in groups, their animated chatter echoing off the polished floors. Most are engrossed in recounting extravagant summer adventures, complete with luxury vacations to tropical islands and European getaways. Designer clothes and expensive shoes dominate the scene, turning the place into what feels more like a high-end fashion house than a high school.

I can’t help but feel out of place. The Alpha must have been mistaken to think anything remotely mysterious could happen here. These people live in an entirely different world.

I had already scoped out the campus earlier—counting exits, locating basements. There was nothing suspicious, just the makings of a typical high school, albeit one dripping in wealth and privilege.

“Blend in,” Damian had said. Easier said than done. Still, I didn’t have to try too hard—these kids barely noticed me. Standing by an empty locker, I watch the chaos unfold, invisible in the sea of laughter and gossip.

A group catches my attention—a cliché gathering of cheerleaders and football players. Typical. I’m about to look away when I see her.

Her hair catches my eye first. A brilliant cascade of red, unlike anything I’ve ever seen, spilling down her back like a river of blood under the sunlight. She doesn’t bother tying it up in a ponytail or twisting it into a bun like most girls. She lets it fall freely—bold, vibrant, alive. I can almost feel the silk of it between my fingers, wondering what it would be like to touch.

She’s beautiful. Petite and delicate, but there’s something guarded in the way she carries herself. Her frame might be small, but the attention of the group hangs on her every move. I can tell she doesn’t want it. Her body language betrays her discomfort, even as she glides away from them with the grace of a swan weaving through a crowd.

I don’t even realize I’m following her. My steps are slow, calculated, as if afraid she’ll notice the strange girl trailing behind her. What am I doing? Stalking some fragile-looking human like a complete creep?

My chest tightens with frustration at myself. A human. A human girl. I stop in my tracks, willing myself to turn back. This is ridiculous. I can’t afford to let myself get distracted like this, not by someone like her.

I take a step back, determined to leave her alone, when her phone rings. The sudden noise startles her, and she collides into someone. My legs move on instinct, closing the distance before I even realize it.

And then I see him.

Damian.

Of all people.

He’s smiling at her, that same infuriating smile he wears when he’s found his next target. My stomach churns at the sight of it, at the way she looks up at him, startled but not afraid.

I need to get out of here. Now.

Turning sharply, I walk away as fast as I can without breaking into a run, my heart pounding in my ears.

I’m already swearing to myself: Stay away from her.