THE ABOMINABLE WOLF

SEVEN MONTHS.

MISHA’S POV

The room was small. The bed was narrow. The window was tiny. The walls had been white once, I think, but now they were marked with years of other people’s lives. Still, when I lifted the envelope and saw my dorm number, I felt a little weight lift off my chest.

“Room 3B,” I whispered and slid the key under the latch like it was a door just for me.

A girl was already on the other bed, folding clothes into neat piles. She looked up and smiled before I could even say sorry for being loud. She had grey hair that caught the light and eyes that felt warm. She shook out a shirt and held out her hand. “I’m Anna. Your roommate. You must be Misha.”

I handed her the envelope. “Yeah. Misha.” My fingers gripped the paper a little too tight.

She looked down at it and back at me. “Half wolf, half angel,” she said like it was just a fact. “So what are you?”

“Half-wolf, half-human,” I said. The words sounded weird even to me.

Her face didn’t change right away. Then I saw a flash of disappointment. Not mean, not cruel, just… small and real. “Oh. Hm.” She folded a T-shirt and put it away. “Okay. Well. We’ll manage.”

She said “manage” like she felt sorry for me, and it hit me in a quiet way. I forced a smile and started unpacking. We didn’t talk much. She told me about her classes. I said where I came from in one sentence. She made her bed perfectly straight.

When the room felt almost liveable, she flopped on her bed and pointed to a poster. “My mom said angels are complicated,” she said. “But they can do a lot of tricks. You’ll see. If Seraphina tries anything, I’ll…”

“...handle it,” I said, trying to sound confident.

She shrugged. “Good. I like a girl who can try.”

It was small talk. Normal. I soaked it up because normal doesn’t happen to me much.

By late afternoon, the sun moved lower, and the day felt thin. I pulled out my little calendar like it was a shield. My thumb found the crossed-out squares automatically. Seven months. Seven months until my eighteenth birthday.

The calendar started as a list of dates my mother had given me. Instructions we shared in a secret way. I added more dates after nightmares, crossing off a day each midnight. If I didn’t, sleep would swallow me. If the days blurred, the numbers would disappear, and the thing I feared most would come faster.

If I made a plan, maybe I could survive.

I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what the town whispered. My mother fell in love with a human. She mated with him. She chose him when no wolf would. She had me. People said it spat in the pack’s faces and the moon goddess’s too. They called me an abomination.

I didn’t know all the truth. I only knew bits. My mother’s hands. The ring she pressed into mine. The hum she made when the moon was full. The tilt of her head when she looked at me. The night she died.

The elders said the moon goddess was angry. She cursed me for breaking the rules: no wolf should mate with a human. The curse, they said, was simple and cruel. I would die at eighteen unless an Alpha kissed me before sunset on my birthday. Only a true Alpha could break it. Only a true Alpha’s kiss could let me live.

My mother begged. I remembered the stories. She fell to her knees, hands open, offering her life for mine. The goddess softened, but with terms: my mother’s life in exchange for a chance that I might survive. If I failed, the curse would drain the years from me like water. I would die slow.

Seventeen years later, here I am. A school full of half-breeds. A tiny calendar in my hands. Alphas don’t train here, and full wolves are rare. Most students are mixed in ways that sound dangerous or powerful, but that doesn’t make them appealing to an Alpha.

The truth is cold. Not even an Omega would want me. Omegas want safety, or just to be left alone. They wouldn’t pick someone whose blood makes them a target. And an Alpha? They want purity, strength, someone who can hold the line. Not me. Asking for an Alpha’s help feels like asking the moon to move.

I rubbed my thumb over the square for today. Seven months. It feels huge and tiny at the same time. Not enough if I want a real plan. Too much if I don’t know what I’m doing. I put the calendar back in the drawer, closed it, and leaned my forehead against it.

Evening came. The dorm lights clicked on. Voices spilled into the hall, loud, excited, urgent. Shouts. A rising hum. Anna poked her head out.

“Do you hear that?” she asked, serious now.

I walked to the door. Students filled the corridor, curious and loud. Someone had started cheering. I saw Seraphina, already on her little throne of followers, smirking like she knew she was the center of attention.

Principal Portia’s voice came over the loudspeaker, calm. “All students assemble in the main hall. This is important.”

“Important how?” someone whispered. And then a dozen other whispers followed.

We filed into the hall, pressed together, heat and bodies everywhere. The stage had chairs, two flags, and a single microphone at the center. Phones came out. Anna grabbed my hand, squeezing gently.

Principal Portia stepped to the microphone, face calm. She looked at us like she was about to hand us something we didn’t want yet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, steady. “We are honored to welcome a guest to Monster Heart Academy. A visitor who will be staying for a short time to help with your training and…”

Her words stopped. The back door opened. The hall held its breath.

I saw him first; tall, broad shoulders, the kind of presence that made everyone else smaller. He didn’t need to try to be noticed.

A voice near me whispered a name: Adrian Hasson.

He walked slowly, owning the space without needing it. The light hit him, and the room felt different. My breath caught.

When he came fully into view, I realized the whispers were right. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Broad chest, strong shoulders, arms that looked like they could hold anything. Worn hands. Face sharp, jaw clean, eyes dangerous, seeing straight through you. Everything about him said strength.

Principal Portia cleared her throat. For a moment I couldn’t hear anything else. She smiled, professional and warm, like she was introducing a guest, not someone who could change a life.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, and the words felt heavy. “Alpha Adrian Hasson.”

The hall exploded. Cheering, gasps, phones raised. Bodies leaned forward. Anna’s grip on my hand tightened.

My heart pounded. The calendar in my head, the secret one I measured every day, burned in my mind. Seven months.

He turned his head, maybe following a sound. Our eyes met for a moment. Time thinned. Everything else disappeared. He didn’t smile like he was posing. Just a small, measured nod. It landed on me like a question I couldn’t answer.

Then the noise returned. Everything moved again. But in the hollow my chest had opened, something had changed. The impossible thought I’d joked about "an Alpha in my life" felt like a stone I could trip over.

And the clock kept ticking.