03
River's POV
"Hey, man. What took you so long?" A young guy groaned from the corner of my so-called room immediately I opened the door.
For a split second, I froze, taking in the sight before me.
The room was cramped with two beds sitting against opposite walls, each with a desk tucked neatly beside it.
One side of the room was already claimed by the guy obviously. A jacket slung carelessly over the chair, and a half-empty mug sitting beside a stack of notebooks. The other bed, crisp and untouched, was clearly meant for me.
Shit. I have a roommate.
My throat tightened. The first room I'd walked into had been single-occupant, neat, and quiet. I'd assumed they all were. I'd been counting on that, actually. Because sharing a room meant sharing air, scent, noise. It meant someone close enough to notice if my suppressants ever faltered.
A roommate meant risk.
I swallowed hard, forcing my expression to remain neutral even as my pulse hammered against my ribs. Every worst-case scenario I'd rehearsed on the journey here suddenly felt inadequate.
"Uh…" I started, still gripping the door handle. "Room sixty-one, right?"
"Yeah." The boy was sprawled on the lower bunk, earbuds hanging loose, one hand clutching a half-open bag of chips. Blond hair flopped across his forehead in lazy waves, and his uniform shirt was already half unbuttoned. A Beta, I realized instantly. His scent was mellow, neutral, not sharp like the Alphas outside.
Still, my stomach twisted. If he ever caught even a hint of what I really was…
I forced myself to step inside, letting the door click shut behind me.
"I, uh, took a wrong turn," I muttered, dropping my gaze to the floor as I moved toward the empty bed.
He raised a brow. "A wrong turn? Bro, the dorms are literally numbered."
"Yeah, well," I said, dropping my bag beside the empty bed with more force than necessary, "turns out ninety-one and sixty-one look really similar when you're dying inside."
He snorted, sitting up halfway. "Fair point." He extended a hand. "I'm Cassian, by the way. Cass for short. Beta — not that anyone around here gives a damn."
I hesitated before shaking it, careful not to let my pulse betray me. His grip was firm but not overpowering, which was a relief. Some Alphas — Betas, even — liked to squeeze until your bones cracked just to prove a point.
"River," I said finally. "Alpha."
The lie slid out too easily. I hated how natural it sounded. How many times would I have to say it before it stopped feeling like betrayal?
"So, River." Cass propped himself up on one elbow. "You're new, right? First-year?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, eyeing me up and down with a crooked smile. "You've got that whole 'trying-too-hard-to-act-chill' vibe most new Alphas have. Don't worry, you'll get over it after the first week — or die trying."
A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Good to know."
"Where you from?" he asked, rummaging through his drawer.
I hesitated for half a beat. "North province. Bluecrest pack."
Cass whistled low. "That's rough terrain. You must be built differently."
"Guess so."
If only he knew.
I kept my movements calm, steady, unpacking my things — shirts, notebooks, a single framed photo of my mother I placed face-down on the desk before thinking better of it and turning it upright. Her smile stared back at me, warm and encouraging. You can do this, it seemed to say.
But I wasn't so sure.
Cass kept talking, filling the silence with easy chatter about the dorms, the food, the professors who were hardasses and the ones who'd let you slide if you were smart about it. I was grateful for his easy chatter. It filled the silence and gave me something to hide behind.
"So, what's your line?" Cass asked, tossing a pillow my way. "Leadership? Combat? Strategy?"
I caught it reflexively, hugging it against my chest for a moment before setting it on my bed. "Strategy." The answer came quickly — too quickly — but it was the safest option. Strategy Alphas were usually less physically aggressive, more tactical. Which would make it less likely for people to notice when something's off.
"Smart choice," Cass said, tossing me a spare pillow from his bed. "The Combat division eats people alive. Literally."
I forced a smile, though my gaze kept darting around the room. Having a roommate meant shared nights, shared mornings — no privacy for injections, no freedom to mask sudden heat-surges if something went wrong.
The faint buzz of panic crawled just under my skin, making my fingers twitch as I folded another shirt.
"Relax," Cass said, noticing my stiffness. "I don't bite. Unless you steal my food."
"Right," I murmured, trying to match his easy tone.
The window overlooked the courtyard — I could still hear faint laughter drifting from below. I shoved my hands into my pockets to stop them from fidgeting.
"So, you're my roommate then," Cass said. "Lucky me. The last guy snored like a dying bear."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "I'll try to be quieter than that."
"Good enough." He flopped back down, hands behind his head, watching me unpack. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"Not when I've just almost been murdered by a Watcher's security check," I muttered.
That earned me a snort. "Welcome to Stormridge. You'll get used to it. Or die. One of the two."
Comforting.
Cass let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms above his head until his joints cracked. "Anyway, just a heads-up, try not to piss off anyone from the upper division this week. Especially not the top ranks."
"Top ranks?" I asked, folding my last shirt into the drawer.
"Yeah. The Academy's top Alphas. They do this little welcome speech every year to remind us how insignificant we are." Cass smirked, reaching for another chip. "One of them's basically a celebrity around here — Micah Corvinus."
The name hit me like a flicker of static. My fingers paused over the zipper of my bag.
"Micah?" I repeated without meaning to.
"Yeah. Micah." Cass peeked at me between his fingers, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth. "Top of the academy rankings two years in a row. The supreme alpha's son. The guy's practically royalty around here. Mean as hell, but… well." His lips twisted into an almost amused grin. "You'll see him and understand why people let him get away with everything."
I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be nonchalant. "What's he like?"
Cass smirked, tilting his head. "Picture this — six foot two, built like the Academy's sculpted him out of pure ego, green eyes that could melt steel, and tattoos he's not even supposed to have under regulation. Walks like he owns the place, talks like the gods owe him a favor."
My stomach did a strange flip — unbidden, unwanted.
A memory tugged at the edge of my mind: steam, the clean bite of soap, droplets running down hard muscle, and a pair of green eyes flicking up just as I'd fumbled for words.
No. That couldn't be.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. My hands had stilled completely now, clutching a shirt I'd already folded twice.
Cass was still talking. "He's the kind of Alpha the girls fight over — either because they want to be him, or they want to be under him. And he knows it."
I swallowed hard, forcing a laugh I didn't feel. "Sounds charming."
"Oh, he's not. He's a walking headache. You'll see him during the orientation trials — he likes showing off. Just don't get on his bad side. Or his good side, actually. He doesn't really have one. Guy's a legend and an asshole in equal measure."
My heart thudded once in an uncomfortably heavy way. "Orientation?"
He nodded. "Tomorrow morning. You'll know who's who soon enough. He always shows up late just to make an entrance."
Fantastic. Of course I'd have to see him again.
Cass finally rolled back, yawning. "Lights out soon. You'll need sleep before your first day of initiation. Trust me — you're gonna wish you were dead by lunchtime."
I tried to smile, but my palms were slick against my knees. The image of that stranger's dripping form — the one who'd told me to scram earlier — kept replaying in my head, sharp and humiliating.
There's no way. I didn't even catch his name.
Still… green eyes. Tattoos. Height. The timing.
I shook the thought off quickly, zipping my bag shut with a bit more force than necessary. "Right. I'll be sure to stay out of his way."
Cass grinned. "Smart move. Most first-years try to impress him. They end up regretting it."
"Duly noted," I muttered, turning to my bed.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The hum of the dorm's ventilation filled the quiet. Cass eventually rolled over, mumbling something about dinner bell timings and curfew. Within minutes, he was half asleep, one leg hanging off the bed, while I stared at the ceiling, listening to my own heartbeat slow down.
I should've felt relief that the first day was done, and I hadn't been exposed. But no, I didn't. Instead, my level of anxiety spiked at the thought of how I was going to live the perfect Alpha with a roommate without being caught.
Every morning. Every night. Every moment between.
One slip. That's all it would take.