Astraea-Zenith-Academy

POV: KAELITH

I stare up at the towering, impossible gates of the Astraea-Order. Real gold. They have to be. The metal gleams under the sunlight, flawless and immaculate, reflecting the exact opposite of what I look like right now. I grip the frayed strap of my single, battered duffel bag. It digs into my shoulder, anchoring me to reality. This is all I have. The only possessions I managed to scrape together before my mother aggressively shoved me out the front door and severed my ties to the family.

I drag in a deep, trembling breath. The surreal weight of the moment washes over my exhausted bones. I made it. A hundred miles of grueling travel alongside my wolf. Every single penny I had secretly saved, drained to the last cent just to cover the base tuition. But I am here. I am finally standing at the threshold of my ultimate dream.

I shift my weight, preparing to take my very first step onto the academy grounds. Before my boot even touches the concrete, a heavy, unyielding mass slams into my spine.

The impact pitches me forward. My hands barely shoot out in time as I hit the hard ground face-first, my duffel bag acting as a pathetic cushion. Pain flares in my palms. I scramble to my knees, dusting the grit from my jeans, ready to tear into whoever just ran me over.

I whip my head around. The culprit doesn't even pause. It is a tall, broad-shouldered man projecting a suffocating, overwhelming aura of sheer dominance. Two women cling desperately to his biceps, practically melting against his sides. They stroll past me without a single glance backward.

"Excuse me?" I snap, my voice ringing sharp in the open air.

The trio halts. The two women toss glares over their shoulders, raking their eyes up and down my dust-covered clothes with haughty scoffs. The man, however, keeps his back to me.

"Are you not going to apologize?" I demand, brushing the dirt from my knuckles.

"How dare you speak to him?" one of the brunettes snarls.

"You were standing in the middle of the path like a brainless idiot," the other adds, her tone dripping with venom.

My jaw tightens. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Before I can fire back, the man finally turns around.

The retort dies on my tongue. Striking blonde hair catches the light, framing a strong, chiseled jaw and piercing, glacial blue eyes. He is dangerously attractive, radiating the kind of effortless superiority that demands attention. But my boiling irritation quickly burns through any appreciation for his face.

He closes the distance between us with slow, predatory strides. A lazy, arrogant smirk curves his lips.

"You seriously expect an apology?" he asks, his voice a low, mocking drawl.

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to let my confidence waver under his intense stare. "You ran into me. Yes."

His smirk widens. "What is your name?"

"My name is irrelevant," I state flatly. "You owe me an apology."

His blond eyebrows arch upward in genuine surprise, as if no one has ever denied him anything in his entire life. He lets out a soft hum of amusement and extends a large, calloused hand toward me.

"Rovant-Rex," he introduces himself, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

I ignore his outstretched hand and keep my arms firmly crossed. "You still need to apologize."

Instead of getting angry, Rovant-Rex tips his head back and lets out a loud, rumbling laugh that echoes against the academy walls. The two women shoot me matching death glares, clearly offended on his behalf.

"Interesting," he murmurs, dropping his hand. He flashes me a bold, wicked wink. "See you around."

Without another word, he spins on his heel. He pulls one of the women flush against his chest and crashes his lips down on hers right in front of me. He kisses her hard, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, a blatant, unapologetic display of his playboy nature.

My lip curls in pure disgust. I shake my head, turning my back on the sickening sound of their wet kiss. I pray to the Moon Goddess I never cross paths with that arrogant jerk again.

Approaching the towering gates, I stop in front of the security kiosk. The guard doesn't even bother looking up from his datapad.

"Name," he grunts.

"Kaelith-Vane."

"Look into the scanner." He points a lazy finger toward a sleek, metallic device jutting from the wall.

I step up, aligning my right eye with the lens. The machine whirs. A red beam sweeps across my iris. I hold my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. What if my parents called ahead and canceled my enrollment? What if the money didn't clear?

A sharp beep pierces the silence. The light flashes a bright, confirming green.

Relief floods my veins in a dizzying rush. I exhale a shaky breath. I am officially in.

"Go ahead," the guard mutters, hitting a button.

The smaller pedestrian gate clicks open. I step through, and the sheer vastness of the Astraea-Order campus hits me like a physical blow. It is a sprawling, jaw-dropping fortress of pristine architecture, manicured lawns, and state-of-the-art facilities. You would need a vehicle just to get from one end to the other.

To my far right, situated on a sprawling hill overlooking a private lake, sit the Astraea-Estates. The dormitories look more like five-star luxury resorts, complete with glass balconies and private security. They are outrageously expensive, exclusively reserved for high-ranking Alphas, wealthy heirs, and the absolute elite of the pack hierarchy.

It is also the exact place my brother, Kierax, is currently living.

A bitter sting of unfairness rises in my throat. I swallow it down. My parents effortlessly funded his luxury lifestyle while looking me dead in the eye and claiming they couldn't spare a single dime for my education. The double standard is a jagged pill I have swallowed my whole life, but seeing the Estates in person makes the reality burn even hotter.

Shaking off the resentment, I march over to an enormous digital campus map glowing near the entrance. I need to find my housing. The Abyssuria-Dorms. It is the absolute cheapest option the academy offers.

I trace my finger along the glowing grid, searching for the name.

"Where is it?" I mutter to myself. My finger slides past the central academic hubs, past the training arenas, all the way to the farthest, darkest corner of the digital display.

My stomach drops.

The Abyssuria-Dorms are located at the very edge of the academy's territory. Based on the map's scale, it is at least a grueling twenty-kilometer trek from the front gates.

"You have got to be kidding me," I groan, resting my forehead against the cool glass of the directory. "That is a literal marathon."

But I have no right to complain. It is all I can afford. With a heavy sigh and a renewed spark of resolve, I adjust the strap of my duffel bag. I lock my eyes on the distant horizon and begin the brutal march to my new home.

The walk is endless. The sheer size of the campus makes the journey feel isolating. Lost in a haze of physical exhaustion and anxious thoughts about surviving the next two years, I stop paying attention to my surroundings.

A solid, immovable wall of muscle suddenly materializes right in my path.

I collide hard with a broad chest. The sheer force of the impact knocks the breath from my lungs. My boots slip on the polished stone pathway, my balance instantly gone. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for a harsh, humiliating fall onto the concrete.

I never hit the ground.

A pair of incredibly strong, warm arms snake around my waist in a flash. The grip is firm and effortless, hauling me flush against a rigid torso and steadying my footing before I can even blink.

The moment his hands touch my skin through my thin shirt, an intense, electrifying shiver shoots straight down my spine. The sudden rush of heat makes my breath hitch.

Flustered, I scramble to regain my composure, pushing back slightly to create some distance.

"I am so sorry," I stammer, heat creeping up my neck. "I was totally distracted, I was in a hurry—"

I look up. Every single word evaporates from my tongue.

He stares down at me. Dark, messy hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, framing a face carved from marble. But it is his eyes that steal the breath straight from my lungs. They are the color of stormy skies—a piercing, shimmering gray that holds an unfathomable, magnetic depth. They lock onto mine, intense and unreadable.

"Pretty," I murmur.

The word slips past my lips in a breathless, completely involuntary whisper. I freeze, my eyes going wide as I realize what I just said out loud to a total stranger.

Panic flares in my chest. "I—I mean, I'm sorry again, I wasn't looking where I was going!" I stumble over my words, trying to salvage whatever dignity I have left.

He doesn't blink. He doesn't smile. His expression remains a mask of total, chilling indifference, completely ignoring my embarrassing slip of the tongue.

Without uttering a single syllable, he drops his hands from my waist. He takes a smooth step back, turns his broad back to me, and walks briskly away.

I stand frozen on the pathway, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch him head straight toward the lavish, wealthy towers of the Astraea-Estates.

He leaves me there, a silent, flustered mess clutching a cheap duffel bag. My skin still tingles where his hands gripped my waist. I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady my racing pulse.

I have been on this campus for barely an hour. I have been shoved into the dirt by an arrogant blonde Alpha, and caught from a fall by a breathtaking, silent stranger with storm-gray eyes.

I adjust my bag one last time, staring at his retreating back, and a lingering question embeds itself deep in my mind: does this elite academy exclusively accept outrageously attractive people?