River's POV
Master Kael stopped mid-step and locked gaze with me.
"You," he said, pointing in my direction. "You look like you're paying attention. Tell me — what part of the Omega's anatomy is responsible for pheromonal sensitivity? And how does that differ from an Alpha's?"
I looked back to be sure he was talking to me. When I realized he was, my heart started beating fast like I had committed a crime.
Was it a coincidence he'd picked me? Or did he somehow know? No. I couldn't afford to think like that. He didn't even know my name.
I straightened in my seat, forcing my tone to stay even. "Uh…" I started slowly, buying time. "The sensitivity comes from the hypothalamus, sir," I said, finding my rhythm as I went. "While all werewolves have pheromone receptors throughout the body, the Omega's are more densely concentrated along the olfactory and limbic systems. This allows for stronger hormonal feedback loops — meaning they can detect dominance shifts faster than Alphas or Betas."
The class fell silent.
Master Kael's brows lifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his calm face. "Well answered," he said. "That's a level of biochemical detail most first years wouldn't know. Or need to know."
I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding as my hands trembled faintly under the desk.
Kael's comment made a few students shift in their seats, some of them glancing at me with new curiosity. One of the boys near the back muttered, "Damn, he knows his stuff."
The boy's comment should have felt like a victory. Instead, it sounded like an accusation. I kept my eyes fixed forward, hyper-aware that I was no longer just a face in the crowd. I would have to find ways to manage my new found fame if not…
"Quiet," Kael said sharply without even turning. The class fell silent again. No one dared move again after that. Even the air felt stiff.
He continued as though nothing had happened, gliding across the front of the room with that same unreadable calm. The longer he talked, the more I felt the weight in my chest ease. Slowly, the tension in the room melted into the familiar rhythm of taking notes and listening.
I took notes, though most of what he said I already knew. I was an ardent reader who picked up every textbook I could get my hands on even before coming to Stormridge.
"Now, remember this: suppression is not a cure. It's a restraint. Nature always pushes back."
The man spoke for another twenty minutes before flicking his wrist toward the holo-board. The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the end of the period.
"That will be all for today."
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. Gods. I was glad too. My stomach was growling already.
He tapped his wristband, and the board changed again, bringing up a fresh display of data sheets. "Before you go, your first assignment"
A few groans rose immediately.
Kael ignored them.
"I want a comparative analysis of Alpha, Beta, and Omega endocrine structures. Minimum of a thousand words, due by Friday. Use credible references. And note do not copy from the network, if you do, I'll know and I promise you won't like the result."
His gaze swept the room one last time before he said, "Dismissed."
The room came alive with movement immediately — chairs scraping, whispers breaking out, the faint buzz of band displays turning back on as students checked their schedules. I waited until the noise thinned before packing up my things.
Soon, I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed the rest of the class out.
By the time I reached the cafeteria, the place was already half full. Groups of first years clustered around tables, their chatter bouncing off the high ceilings. Some were already forming little packs — the confident Alphas leading, the eager Betas following close behind.
I got my meal tray and found an empty corner seat. I ate my food quickly, keeping my head down and, half-listening to the buzz of conversation around me.
Most of it was the normal: complaints about teachers, speculation about which Alphas might be chosen for the leadership trials, and of course, the cafeteria gossip about Micah.
When I finished, I returned the tray and stepped out into the hallway again.
The path back to the general wing was quieter, sunlight cutting through the upper windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. I was halfway there, lost in thought about the assignment when a sharp shout broke through the calm.
"Give it back, you bastard!"
My steps slowed.
A crowd had gathered near the eastern gate, forming a loose circle. Voices overlapped as some were cheering and clapping, some recording the scene with their bands while others just watched. I edged closer to the scene, curiosity getting the better of me.
Two boys were at the center of it. Both were second years, judging by their uniforms and, Betas. One of them, the tall one with short dark hair, had the other by the collar, shoving him back against the wall. They were breathing hard, shirts half-untucked, faces twisted with anger.
"You stole it!" the tall one snarled. "Don't lie to me!"
"I didn't!" the smaller boy spat back, trying to push him off. "I told you, I found it near the dorms! I was going to—"
A punch cut him off. The smaller boy flinched, glancing around desperately, but no one stepped in. The crowd only murmured louder, feeding on the tension.
From the fragments I caught, it wasn't just about the phone. Apparently, one of them had found his personal device missing when he woke up, and the other had been the last to use it — supposedly "borrowing it to check class schedules."
Now the phone was gone.
And the accusation had turned into a public scene.
"Say it again," the tall one snarled, voice low but dangerous. "Say you didn't steal it."
"I didn't!" the other shouted, his face red from the hit. "Check my stuff if you don't believe me!"
I shifted to the edge of the circle, watching silently as the fight teetered between words and violence.
A girl nearby muttered, "They're gonna get detention for this."
Maybe. Or worse, if a senior like Micah or Donovan caught them.
"Quit lying, Carl." A voice suddenly said from the crowd.
The owner, a freshman with cropped brown hair, stepped forward, irritation clouding his features. "I remember vividly I asked why Finn's phone was with you and you told me you wanted to run an errand with it in the woods and you'd return it soon."
The crowd stirred at that, Several heads turned toward Carl, whose eyes went wide. "That's not what I—"
But the taller Beta, Finn, had already heard enough. He grabbed Carl by the collar again and slammed him into the wall. The thud echoed through the courtyard.
"Liar!"
Carl tried to shove him off, sputtering, "It wasn't like that! I—"
"Enough!"
The single word cracked through the noise like a whip. We froze. Conversations died instantly as everyone turned.
A figure stood a few feet away, his uniform sleeves rolled up, dark eyes cold as stone. Donovan.
The tension in the air thickened immediately. I could swear I felt a shiver run up my spine.
Donovan stepped forward, every movement deliberate. His presence alone made most of the spectators take a step back. Even the Beta who'd been shouting a second ago loosened his grip automatically.
"What's going on here?" he asked dominantly. "Fighting in the middle of the academy courtyard? That's bold."
No one answered at first.
Finn straightened quickly, bowing his head a little. "He stole my phone, sir."
Donovan's gaze slid to Carl. "Did you?"
Carl shook his head frantically. "No! I swear, I didn't. I—I just found it near the dorms and—"
"Save it," Donovan cut in. "You two—report to the Discipline Office. Now."
"But, sir—"
Donovan's voice dropped an octave. "Do you want me to escort you there myself?"
That shut them up fast.
The two boys muttered a quick "Yes, sir" and hurried off toward the eastern hall, the crowd parting for them like water.
Donovan turned his gaze toward the rest of the students still lingering. "Show's over," he said simply. "If you have energy to watch fights, you'll have plenty for Combat later."
The crowd scattered instantly.
I stayed still for a moment, caught between the fading noise and the weight of Donovan's authority. There was something irking about him I couldn't quite place.
He glanced briefly in my direction, his eyes flicking over me for just a second. And just like yesterday in the orientation hall, it made my skin prickle.
Then he turned and walked away, the back of his uniform catching the light as he disappeared down the corridor.
I exhaled quietly, realizing my pulse had been racing the entire time.
Damn. If a simple misunderstanding could turn into a public fight, what would happen if anyone found out what I really was?
I tightened my grip on my bag and continued toward the classroom building, keeping my head low. I couldn't afford mistakes. Not here. Not when I'd barely survived the first week.