The Alpha’s Bastard Heiress

Aria Draven The black car smelled like smoke and iron. My wrists were still sore from the guards who had dragged me out of the house. They thought I didn’t notice the way they avoided my eyes, like I was already dead. I stared at the faint red marks on my skin, tracing each one with my thumb as the engine hummed beneath my feet. The air inside the car felt thick, the kind of suffocating silence that presses against your lungs until you forget what real breathing feels like. The city lights faded behind us. Rain fell in thin silver lines against the tinted windows, and my reflection stared back at me, pale and calm. It was strange, how calm I was. Hours ago, I had held a blade to my stepmother’s throat. I should have been shaking. I should have been afraid. I remembered the way her perfume filled the room, sweet and chemical, the way her eyes widened when she realized I was no longer afraid of her. Maybe I should have felt guilt. Maybe I should have felt something other than this hollow stillness. But I wasn’t. Because this was my choice. When my father looked at me with that cold disappointment, the same look he gave to failed soldiers. I knew I was nothing to him anymore. The daughter of the great Draven Syndicate, disposable and forgotten. He could have protected me. Instead, he sent me here. My father had always been a man who measured worth in usefulness, and tonight he had weighed me and found me lacking. It was almost laughable, how quickly a parent could transform into a stranger. Nightbourne Academy. The name itself felt like a warning. A place where the Syndicate sent their broken heirs to learn obedience or to disappear. They said only the ruthless survived. The rest became ghosts no one remembered. I had heard the whispers for years. Students who entered with pride and left as shadows. Students who never left at all. I wondered which fate my father had chosen for me. The car stopped before a wrought-iron gate. A huge silver emblem shimmered across it: a crescent moon split by a sword. My chest tightened. That symbol didn’t belong to the Syndicate. The difference sent a ripple of unease through me. Nightbourne belonged to someone older, someone darker, someone my father respected enough to fear. The rain made the metal gleam like a blade in the night. “Get out,” one of the guards said. The rain hit my face the moment I stepped outside. Cold. Sharp. Real. The gate opened by itself, and for a second, I thought I saw eyes glinting in the shadows. Not human eyes. Too bright, too wild. The guards pretended not to notice, but I saw the way their shoulders stiffened, the way one of them reached subtly toward his weapon. Whatever was watching us was no rumor. The academy stood beyond the gate, carved into a mountain. Its towers were black stone, its windows glowing faintly with silver light. Thunder rolled above it, and something about it felt alive, like it was watching me. The structure was enormous, stretching upward like claws trying to scratch open the sky. I felt small standing beneath its shadow, an unwanted offering brought to a hungry god. I followed the guards up the long stone steps, my boots slipping on the wet surface. The doors opened before we reached them. A man waited there. The flickering lights behind him cast his silhouette like a sentry carved out of night. He looked too young to be a guard, too composed to be a student. His clothes were dark, tailored, almost like a military. His hair was ink-black, his eyes silver-gray, glowing faintly under the flicker of lightning. And when he looked at me, I felt it, the weight of someone who didn’t see people, only weaknesses. His gaze slid over me like he was cataloging every flaw I had ever tried to hide. “Aria Draven,” he said. His voice was low and smooth, carrying through the rain like a command. “Welcome to Nightbourne.” I should have spoken, maybe thanked him, but my throat refused to work. My tongue felt heavy, my throat dry. He wasn’t just intimidating. He was dangerous in a quiet way, the kind of danger that didn’t need to raise its voice to be obeyed. “Cassian Vale,” one of the guards murmured, bowing slightly before handing him a folder. “She’s your problem now.” Cassian’s gaze flicked down at the papers, then back to me. “You’re smaller than I expected,” he said, almost to himself. “But your eyes... they don’t look broken. Yet.” He turned away, motioning for me to follow. “Inside.” The guards left without another word. I watched the car roll away, the taillights swallowed by the storm, and something cold settled in my chest. I was truly alone now. The sound of the engine fading into the storm felt like a door slamming shut behind me. Inside, the air smelled of cedar and candle smoke. The halls were lined with portraits, men and women in old uniforms, their eyes following me as I walked past. The silence pressed against my ears. Even my footsteps sounded too loud, echoing up and down the long corridors like they did not belong here. Cassian moved ahead of me with quiet confidence, his steps echoing softly. “You’ll sleep in the east wing,” he said. “Training begins at dawn. You’ll wear the uniform provided. You’ll follow orders. You’ll stay out of trouble.” I almost laughed. “What happens if I don’t?” He stopped walking. When he turned to face me, his eyes caught the dim light again, glowing faintly like moonlight through fog. His expression shifted, losing the small trace of amusement it had held earlier. “Then you’ll learn what this academy was built for.” My mouth went dry. “And what’s that?” He leaned in just slightly, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of pine and steel. “To tame the wild,” he said. “Or destroy it.” Something inside me shivered, though not from fear. There was something dangerous about him, an unspoken power that made the air hum around him. His presence was both a warning and a pull. I wondered what Nightbourne had made him give up to become this sharp. He led me through the corridors until we reached a small room at the end of the hall. A single bed. A desk. A locked window. It felt like a cell. The walls were bare except for a single metal hook near the door, like the room belonged to a soldier rather than a student. “This will do,” he said. “Try to sleep. Tomorrow, you’ll meet the rest.” As he turned to leave, I finally found my voice. “Why are you really here?” I asked. “You’re not a teacher.” He paused at the doorway. “No. I’m something worse.” Then he was gone. I stood there, staring at the closed door. The storm outside roared, shaking the glass. I moved to the window, pressing my palm to the cold pane. The courtyard below was empty, except for two shadows standing in the rain. My stepbrothers. Their faces lifted toward my window, grinning like wolves. My pulse quickened. They had followed me here. Their silhouettes looked wrong in the lightning, their posture too eager, too entertained. They wanted me afraid. They wanted me cornered. And this time, there was no father, no guards, no one to save me. But I wasn’t going to break. Not again. Thunder cracked across the sky. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a low, animal growl. Only later would I realize, it wasn’t thunder at all.