Cursed

POV: ELARA

"Always keep your wolf on a leash or you will regret it."

The cruel, lingering warning of my former Alpha echoed through the dark corners of my mind. The memory brought a phantom chill to my bones, an unwanted reminder of the cold stone dungeon where he had thrown me to starve for days. I stood in the crowded, noisy corridor of Lunaris Academy, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Anxiety crawled beneath my skin. I waited in the long, winding line outside the administration office, clutching my application form tight enough to crease the edges.

The Vanguard Protocol represented my one desperate ticket out of this hell. It was an elite, brutal military program run by the Alpha King's two formidable princes. They had come to our school to recruit final-year students, seeking the strongest and most capable fighters. For most, joining the Vanguard was a path to glory and immense prestige. For me, it was raw survival. It was the only viable escape route from the miserable, soul-crushing existence of my former pack. I needed to get away from the people who viewed me as a cursed burden, and I was willing to bleed to make it happen.

My inner wolf paced restlessly, scratching at the barriers of my mind. I reached up and let my fingers trace the cold metal of my crescent pendant. The small, silver charm rested heavy against my collarbone. It was the very last birthday gift my parents gave me before a rogue attack tore them away, leaving me orphaned and at the mercy of a pack that despised me. Fiddling with the pendant usually grounded me, but today, the sheer volume of bodies in the hallway made my skin prickle with defensive heat.

A chorus of high-pitched giggles broke through my tortured thoughts. I raised my head, scanning the sea of students, and immediately rolled my eyes. Sloane Vane had arrived. The undisputed queen bee of the academy stood near the glass window of the registration office, surrounded by her usual flock of sycophants. She leaned forward, shamelessly flaunting her body, pressing her chest against the glass in a desperate attempt to catch the attention of the royals inside.

She flipped her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, holding a decorative pink package in her manicured hands. I recognized the bakery logo stamped on the side. She was bringing them store-bought cupcakes, planning to bat her eyelashes and pretend she baked them from scratch. The sheer, pathetic nature of it made my stomach churn. She was treating a ruthless military recruitment drive like a dating show, embarrassing herself and every other capable female warrior in the process. I shook my head, tearing my gaze away from her display. Girls like Sloane gravitated toward men with power and status, caring nothing for the actual blood and dirt required to hold those positions.

The tension in the hallway spiked in an instant. The heavy, booming sound of heavy boots hitting the linoleum floor sent an immediate spike of adrenaline straight into my bloodstream.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be here, skank!"

Brock Thorne marched into the corridor, barking his crude insults loud enough to silence the surrounding chatter. He was Sloane’s meathead boyfriend, the school quarterback, and the strongest warrior in our graduating class. He was also a relentless bully who took immense pleasure in using me as his personal punching bag.

I pulled the hood of my oversized sweater over my head, seeking the meager protection of the dark fabric. This was the most important day of my life. I could not afford a confrontation. If I let Brock goad me into a fight, my inner wolf would snap her leash, and my chances of joining the Vanguard Protocol would turn to dust.

Brock shoved his way through the line, his massive frame closing the distance between us. His cronies flanked him, their faces twisted into ugly sneers. He reached out, aiming a heavy hand toward my shoulder, his intent to drag me out of the line radiating off him in waves of aggressive Alpha energy.

Ingrained survival instincts took over. I dropped my shoulder, pivoting on my heel to dodge his massive frame. His hand swiped empty air. Before he could recalibrate his balance and lunge again, I slipped past his broad chest. A young woman coordinating the line stood near the office entrance, holding a clipboard and looking frantic. I did not wait for her permission. I rushed the door, twisting the brass knob, and slipped silently into the registration office, pulling the heavy wood shut before Brock could lay a single finger on me.

"Hey, you have to wait your turn!" I heard the female coordinator shout at Brock from the other side of the barrier.

I leaned my back heavy against the solid wooden door, letting the noise of the hallway muffle into a dull thrum. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. My wolf raged beneath my ribs, volatile and furious at the retreat. She demanded blood. She wanted to tear the door open and rip Brock’s throat out. I dug my fingernails into my palms, crushing the wild instinct down. I swallowed the bile in my throat, forcing my heart rate to steady. I had to remain in control.

The moment I opened my eyes and turned around, the breath vanished from my lungs.

The two heavily tattooed princes sat just a few feet away, radiating an oppressive, suffocating aura. The sheer weight of their presence hit me like a physical blow. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with the scent of cedar, mint, and unfiltered, raw power. It was an aura of absolute dominance and dark magnetism that instantly and aggressively stirred my inner wolf. My skin flushed. The primal part of my brain recognized them not just as royalty, but as apex predators.

The prince standing near the edge of the grand oak desk possessed dangerous, piercing green eyes. He wore a dark shirt that hugged the thick muscles of his chest, the sleeves pushed up to reveal intricate black ink crawling up his forearms. His intense gaze raked over my body from head to toe, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. His pupils dilated, the deep green flashing a predatory, luminous yellow for a fraction of a second before settling back. He evaluated me like a hunter sizing up a cornered prey.

Beside him sat his older brother. The seated prince possessed quiet, calculating blue eyes that locked onto mine with a steady, unblinking focus. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, highlighting the sharp, aristocratic lines of his jaw. His face remained a mask of stoic perfection. He did not project the same dangerous, hunting energy as his brother. Paradoxically, his still, silent observation gave me an inexplicable, deep-seated sense of safety and calm. My wolf let out a soft whine in my mind, drawn to the deep, silent strength he emanated.

"You lost or something?"

The green-eyed prince broke the silence. His tone carried a mocking edge, but his rich, gravelly baritone sent a strange, fluttering sensation straight to my pulse. The deep vibration of his voice seemed to resonate in my very bones, making my inner wolf purr in response.

"No. I'm here to enroll for the Vanguard Protocol." I kept my voice steady, masking the tremor in my chest.

The heat in the room felt unbearable. The intense, heavy stares of the two lethal men made my blood run hot. The oversized hoodie suddenly felt like a heavy, suffocating blanket. I reached for the hem of the thick fabric and stripped it off, pulling it over my head and tossing it onto a nearby chair. I stood before them in a fitted, black sleeveless top emblazoned with a faded metal band logo. As I straightened my posture, I caught both of their gazes dropping unabashedly to my chest.

Refusing to cower under their blatant scrutiny, I squared my shoulders and raised my chin, meeting the intense gaze of the standing prince.

"May I also know your names?"

They stared at me in stunned silence. The seated brother tilted his head a fraction of an inch, a silent ripple of surprise crossing his stoic features. They looked at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head. It was abundantly clear that no one ever walked into a room and demanded their names.

"Are you saying you don't know who we are?" The green-eyed prince mocked, his voice laced with a deadly, threatening edge that promised severe consequences.

"I am saying I know both your names, but I don't know who is which." I countered smoothly, refusing to let his dark intimidation tactics rattle me.

He sneered. The deadly amusement vanished from his expression, replaced by a cold, hard dominance. He warned me that my big mouth and defiant attitude were two traits that would get me instantly disqualified from the military program. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, introducing himself as Kael, before gesturing to his silent, observing brother, Rowan.

Rowan remained silent, his blue eyes studying my face with a piercing, analytical focus. He offered no greeting, only a quiet, steady gaze that made my heart race for an entirely different reason.

Stepping closer, Kael leaned his muscular frame against the edge of the polished oak desk. The proximity brought his potent scent washing over me. His predatory gaze dropped blatantly to my chest once again, lingering for a long, heavy moment before dragging back up to meet my eyes.

"You're a woman, and women are not allowed in the program." Kael stated the words with cold, unyielding finality.

My heart plummeted straight into my stomach. A wave of cold dread washed over my feverish skin. This could not be happening. My entire future depended on this singular opportunity. If they turned me away, I would be forced to return to a pack that starved me, to an Alpha who treated me like garbage, and to a lifetime of dodging Brock’s fists. My very survival rested on getting into the Vanguard Protocol.

"I didn't read any rules that said so." I challenged him, curling my hands into fists at my sides, refusing to back down from the overwhelming weight of his aura.

Kael turned his head. He shared a knowing, highly amused look with Rowan. A ghost of a smile flickered across Rowan's usually stoic lips, a silent communication passing between the two brothers that I could not decipher.

"She's good," Kael chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating in his chest. He turned his attention back to me, his amusement fading into a heavy, dismissive sigh. "Look, you can drop the act now. We both know you wanted attention, just like the other girls, and I like your approach. It was fresh. It wasn't boring, and you gave us the break we needed. Now it's time to allow real signees to come in. We don't have all day."

The words hit me like a physical slap across the face. A blinding, scalding rage ignited deep within my bones as the gravity of his incredible, insulting assumption finally dawned on me. He thought I was just like Sloane. He thought I had braved the hallway, dodged my abuser, and fought my volatile inner wolf just to come in here and play a cheap, seductive game for his amusement.

"Hold on a second." I snapped, my voice cracking like a whip in the quiet office. My cheeks burned white-hot with raw, explosive fury. I took a step toward the desk, glaring straight into Kael's dangerous green eyes. "You thought I was here to seduce you?"