Chapter 5: Academy and Appearances
1136 Words
Chapter 5: Academy and Appearances
(Aspen’s POV)
My new quarters were elaborate. Too elaborate. The suite was a pristine display of the wealth and status I now bore as the Wintercrest Pack's lost daughter.
Every corner of the room was polished perfection, from the soft ivory drapes framing the windows to the intricately carved wooden furniture adorned with silver accents. It was beautiful, yet suffocating.
I sat on the edge of the luxury bed, my fingers grazing the delicate embroidery on the ceremonial robes gifted to me last night. Each stitch told a story I had yet to claim, each thread binding me further into a life I was pretending to belong to.
Ethan had burst in earlier, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement over “our” coming days at the Werewolf Academy.
“It’ll be amazing, Aspen! I’ll show you around. No one will mess with you as long as I’m there," he had promised earnestly, his boyish grin lighting up the room. "We’ll have the best time!”
I had smiled, playing the part of a dutiful but overwhelmed sister. “Thank you, Ethan. I’m glad I’ll have you.” My voice had been soft, unsure—as expected from a timid Omega.
After he left, my carefully constructed expression slipped, replaced by a grimace of irritation.
An academy. Of all places.
It wasn’t the idea of schooling that bothered me—I had received rigorous training over the years, far beyond anything they could teach at the Academy. It was the act I’d have to maintain. The charade of being weaker than the students who’d likely never faced a true battle, let alone led one.
Still, I understood the necessity.
To my family, sending me to the Werewolf Academy was a gesture of reintegration, an opportunity to give me the life they believed I had lost. For me, attending meant another layer of safety in my disguise, another step in blending seamlessly into this world.
“She’ll make friends,” Serena had said with an emotional smile when she brought up the idea at breakfast after the feast. "She’ll gain stability."
“Friends?” I had echoed weakly. The word alone left an odd taste in my mouth.
As if sensing my unease, Serena waved a dismissive hand. "Not that you need to, my little wolf," she added. "You are above such things, being the daughter of the Wintercrest line. Your presence alone will command respect."
Gabriel, seated beside her, had nodded solemnly, his magic flaring faintly in unconscious agreement. “True. There isn’t anyone at the Academy who could touch her status. She doesn’t need anyone’s approval.”
Through our strengthening bonds, I felt Marcus’s quiet but contemplative mood. He had said nothing, only watching me with a subtle intensity that made my wolf, Cora, stir uneasily.
Serena had reached for his hand beneath the table, their silent bond speaking louder than words. With a soft sigh, he had relented, inclining his head. “She’ll go,” he said decisively, the Alpha command in his voice final. “Let the Academy see how strong the Wintercrest line truly is."
Nods of acknowledgment followed from my brothers. Ethan’s excitement surged like fireworks through our pack bonds, while Nathan’s voice brushed my mind through the private link he established.
“You can call on me if you ever need assistance,” Nathan had assured with that ever-practical tone.
Even now, I could still feel their overwhelming protective instincts pressing against the bond. It was warm, suffocating in its sincerity.
Alone now in the quiet of my rooms, my Omega mask cracked.
Anger stirred beneath the surface.
Cora growled, pacing restlessly within. Her frustration was mine. “Weak,” she snarled. “Vulnerable.” The terms burned as we fought against the confines of this false pretense.
My wolf ached to stretch her power, to let the world taste the full force of her dominance. But for weeks now, I had asked her to shrink, to silence herself—a crime against her nature. Against mine.
It wasn’t just her frustration eating at me, though.
My time here had pulled me further away from the life I had built. The blood-sealed scroll in my den had anchored me here, but it hadn’t erased the responsibilities I still held to my Shadow Warriors.
The encrypted mind-link I had established with Gavin and the others buzzed incessantly at the back of my mind like static interference. Their updates had grown more frequent and urgent in recent days, warning of rogue movements and predator activity creeping into my carefully managed territory.
I curled my fists, staring at the floor. "Handle it," I hissed under my breath, speaking into the void only my warriors could hear.
They needed this test.
My carefully curated network was strong, but they needed to operate without me if my dual life was to succeed. I was their Alpha—a phantom they trusted. I wouldn’t let them falter just because I had to pretend not to exist.
Still, the crackle of messages nagged at my self-control like biting insects.
This family—the warmth they showered on me—it was distracting. Dangerous.
It made me almost… wistful.
No.
I pushed the longing aside. My return was strategic. Nothing more.
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(Serena’s POV)
Standing outside my daughter’s room, I hoped she wasn’t tiring of my presence.
I knocked softly. “Aspen, dear, it’s morning.” My heart raced, whispering irrational fears to my mind. Was this how it felt to reconnect with someone after so much time lost? Feeling them like a delicate glass you’re afraid to hold too tightly?
When the door opened, my breath caught again.
There she was—my daughter.
Her raven-black hair framed her small face, her amber eyes—so like Marcus’s—striking despite their lowered gaze.
Smiling softly, I stepped into the room, holding up the garments. “I’ve brought ceremonial robes. They’re delicate, traditional,” I explained quickly. “I thought you might want to wear them today."
She hesitated, her expression unreadable for a moment before softening. “Thank you, Mom."
The words swelled in my chest with almost unbearable pride.
The seamstresses came shortly after to assist, each treating Aspen as if she were a revered jewel. They adjusted the fabric, smoothing creases and pinning minor adjustments.
“I can do it myself,” Aspen said timidly, but her voice lacked any real objection, as if she wasn’t quite used to being cared for yet.
The moment only made me want to protect her harder.
“Leave the men outside; they can wait,” I said through the pack bonds. This was a mother-daughter moment. I didn’t need Marcus or our sons overwhelming this delicate time with their fierce energies.
- Writer
