ISLA'S POV
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The coffee pot shattered against the floor three inches from my feet.
"You stupid girl!" Mrs. Chen screamed, her face turning red. "That's coming out of your paycheck!"
I stared at the brown liquid spreading across the diner's cracked tiles. My hands shook—not from fear, but from exhaustion. This was my third job today. I'd been awake for nineteen hours straight.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, grabbing the mop. The words tasted like poison in my mouth. I hadn't even dropped the pot. Her elbow had knocked it off the counter. But arguing meant getting fired, and I needed this job.
I needed all three of my jobs.
"Sorry doesn't pay for broken equipment," Mrs. Chen snapped. She stormed back to the kitchen, muttering about worthless scholarship students.
My wolf stirred inside me, angry and restless. *Let me out,* she growled. *Let me show her what worthless really looks like.*
"Not now," I whispered, pushing her back down. I couldn't afford to lose control. Not here. Not ever.
I cleaned up the mess on my hands and knees, ignoring the stares from the late-night customers. A group of college guys in the corner booth laughed and pointed. I recognized them from Crescent Bay Academy—rich pack kids who'd never worked a day in their lives.
"Hey, waitress!" one of them called. "We need more fries. Or are you gonna drop those too?"
His friends howled with laughter.
I stood up, grabbed my notepad, and walked to their table with my head high. They could mock my secondhand uniform and my messy braid, but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"I'll bring your fries," I said calmly.
"Make sure you don't mess it up, scholarship girl," another one sneered. "Some of us actually belong at the Academy."
I walked away without responding. Their laughter followed me to the kitchen.
*You belong there more than they do,* my wolf snarled. *You earned your place. They just bought theirs.*
She was right. I had the highest grades in Pack Law. I studied while they partied. I worked while they played. But none of that mattered to wolves like them. All they saw was my lack of pack, my cheap clothes, my orphan status.
I delivered their fries with a fake smile and counted down the minutes until my shift ended.
Two hours later, I finally escaped into the cold night air. My feet ached. My back hurt. My eyes burned from lack of sleep. But I couldn't go home yet. I had to study.
Tomorrow's exam would cover three chapters of Advanced Pack Hierarchy. If I wanted to graduate top of my class—if I wanted any chance at a real future—I needed a perfect score.
I walked twelve blocks to my apartment building, a run-down place where the heat barely worked and the neighbors were too loud. But it was mine. I paid for it with my own money. Nobody could take it away from me.
Inside my tiny studio, I dropped my bag and looked around. One room. One bed. One desk covered in library books. Everything I owned fit in this small space, and that was fine. I didn't need much.
What I needed was a shower and sleep.
What I got was my Pack Law textbook and cold coffee from this morning.
I studied at my desk, forcing my tired brain to focus. Pack hierarchy. Alpha bloodlines. The sacred rules of mate bonds. Words blurred together on the page.
My phone buzzed. A text from Riley: *You alive? Haven't heard from you in two days.*
I typed back: *Alive. Busy. Talk tomorrow.*
Her response came immediately: *You better. And please tell me you're not still studying. It's 2 AM.*
I looked at the clock. She was right. I'd been studying for four hours without realizing it.
*Going to bed now,* I lied.
I put my phone face-down and kept reading. Just one more chapter. Then I'd sleep.
My eyes drifted to the section about fated mates—the Moon Goddess's gift to werewolves. According to legend, everyone had a perfect match chosen before birth. When you met your mate, the bond would snap into place, and you'd know instantly.
I used to believe in that fairy tale. Back when my parents were alive, back when I thought love was real.
Now I knew better.
Love was just another word for losing control. For depending on someone who could leave you. For being weak.
I would never be weak.
I slammed the textbook shut and finally climbed into bed. Tomorrow would be brutal—exam in the morning, then two job shifts, then the stupid mandatory Lunar Gala in the evening.
The Gala. I groaned just thinking about it.
Every semester, the Academy forced all unmated students to attend the Lunar Gala—a fancy party where rich wolves showed off and looked for mates. I'd rather eat glass than spend an evening with those people.
But attendance was required. Missing it meant academic probation.
So I'd go. I'd wear Riley's borrowed dress, stay exactly one hour, and leave.
Simple.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but my wolf was restless. She paced inside my mind, agitated about something.
*What's wrong?* I asked her.
*Something's coming,* she whispered. *Something big. I can feel it.*
*You're just tired,* I told her. *We're both exhausted.*
But she wouldn't settle down. She kept pacing, kept watching, kept waiting for something I couldn't see.
I finally drifted off around three in the morning, my dreams filled with amber eyes and a pull I didn't understand.
When I woke up four hours later, my phone was ringing.
I grabbed it without looking at the screen. "Hello?"
"Miss Monroe?" An unfamiliar female voice. Official-sounding. "This is Dean Whitmore's office calling."
My stomach dropped. The Dean never called students directly unless something was very wrong.
"Yes?" I sat up straight, suddenly wide awake.
"The Dean needs to see you immediately. Before your exam this morning. It's urgent."
"What's this about?"
There was a long pause.
"It's regarding your scholarship, Miss Monroe. There's been a complaint."
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it.
A complaint. About my scholarship.
The only thing standing between me and complete disaster.
Someone was trying to destroy me.
And I had exactly one hour to find out who.