Chapter 33: Chapter 34: I will accept no wolfless girl as my leader
I came back to the Red dorm looking like someone who’d lost a war she had intended to win.
No one inside would know what had actually happened out there in the corridor, of course. They wouldn’t see the invisible brand of humiliation still burning under my skin. But I felt it. Every dragging step toward that heavy oak door reminded me exactly how far I’d fallen in the span of a single afternoon.
When I’d stormed out of this room earlier, I’d been carved from certainty.
I was done.
Done with the Red dorm, done with the suffocating shared air, done with the one person in this entire cursed academy whose mere existence made my teeth ache. I had walked away believing, truly believing, that I would never have to cross this threshold again.
Life, apparently, finds comedy in certainty.
And now here I was: tail metaphorically tucked, pride in shreds, slinking back into the very cage I’d sworn to escape.
I pushed the door open with the flat of my palm and stepped inside.
The room was already breathing with quiet, proprietary life.
Suitcases lay gutted across half the floor, clothes spilling like entrails, someone’s black combat jacket draped possessively over the back of a chair, another student’s leather satchel gaping open to reveal the dull gleam of a throwing knife. A few early arrivals had already claimed territory: one boy sprawled across a lower bunk like he’d been born there, long legs dangling, scrolling through something on a cracked phone screen. A girl with silver-streaked braids was methodically hanging dresses inside one of the wardrobes, humming under her breath as though this were a sleepover and not a government-sanctioned monster barracks.
And then there was Elion.
Reclined, lounging, really, on the only single bed in the entire damn room like a king who’d already been crowned.
Of course he had.
The mattress dipped under his weight. One arm was folded behind his head, the other resting lazily across his stomach. His blonde hair spilled messily over the white pillowcase. His eyes, those stupid, too-knowing stormy grey eyes, found me the instant I crossed the threshold and didn’t look away.
He didn’t laugh loudly.
The faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth said everything.
I let my gaze sweep the rest of the room before it could linger on him too long.
The Red dorm was... obscene in its comfort.
High ceilings, exposed dark beams, polished hardwood floors that reflected the slanting afternoon light in long molten bars. The far wall was almost entirely glass, one massive window that looked out over the academy’s inner courtyard, where skeletal trees clawed at a sky the color of old bruises. Someone had already cracked the window an inch; cold air slipped in carrying the faint iron scent of coming rain.
Seven students were supposed to live here.
Seven volatile, power-drunk, half-feral teenagers.
And yet the architects had somehow managed to make the space feel almost... gracious.
Three bunk beds lined the walls, two on the left, one solitary on the right. Their frames were matte black steel, thick enough to survive a full-shift werewolf tantrum. Blankets were already tucked with hospital corners, pillows plump and waiting. Between the bunks and slightly apart, like an afterthought of mercy, sat the lone single bed.
Six people condemned to ladders and narrow mattresses while one got to sleep like he was above the rules.
I hated how much that single bed mocked me.
My eyes tracked the rest of the layout out of habit more than interest.
A long wall of built-in wardrobes, seven tall cedar-paneled doors, each wide enough to hide a small arsenal. Weapons, or whatever the academy assumed we’d drag into this place. At least they weren’t expecting us to live out of duffels like refugees.
Near the entrance, two identical doors stood shoulder to shoulder. Bathrooms. Earlier someone had left one ajar and I’d glimpsed white subway tile, brushed nickel fixtures, a rainfall showerhead big enough to drown under. Cleaner than anywhere I’d ever slept. Cleaner than I deserved, probably.
The center of the room had been left deliberately, almost aggressively, empty.
No sofas.
No coffee table.
No illusion of domesticity.
Just open floor, smooth, cold, perfect for pacing. Or fighting. Or bleeding.
Very academy.
I moved deeper inside. My boots made soft, deliberate thuds against the wood. Every sound felt too loud in my own ears.
The mattress on the upper left bunk looked untouched. High ground. Decent sightlines to the door and the window. Not perfect, but good enough. I wasn’t in the mood to claw my way into a turf war today. My bones already ached with the kind of tired that had nothing to do with muscles.
I reached for the ladder.
Before my boot could touch the first rung, fingers closed around my wrist.
Firm. Warm. Uninvited.
I froze.
Turned my head slowly.
Elion had moved, silently, impossibly fast, and now stood close enough that I could smell cedar and smoke clinging to his jacket.
"What are you doing?" His voice was low, almost amused, but there was steel threaded underneath.
"Climbing," I said flatly. "Unless the ladder is also reserved for royalty."
His thumb brushed once, over the inside of my wrist before he let go.
Then that slow, devastating grin unfurled across his face.
"Hey, gorgeous."
He leaned in just enough that the words felt private even though half the room could hear.
"Do you have any idea how hard I had to fight to keep this bed open for you?" His voice dropped softer, teasing, intimate. "Everyone else was circling it like vultures the second you left. I practically had to growl."
I stared at him.
For one stupid heartbeat I didn’t know what to say.
"...Thank you," I managed at last. The words tasted like gravel. "But I don’t need charity. Anyone can claim it. I’ll take the top bunk."
Simple. No debt or drama.
Or at least that was the plan.
Elion’s brows shot up in genuine offense.
"You’re kidding."
"I’m really not."
"You’re supposed to be the head of this circus," he said, gesturing at the room with an open palm. "Asher picked you. That means something. You really think the leader should be sleeping six feet above everyone else like some forgotten spare part?"
Before I could fire back....
A new voice sliced through the air.
Cold.
Precise.
Loud enough to make the whole room flinch.
" I will accept no wolfless girl as my leader."
The words landed like a thrown blade.
They came from the bunk directly beside us.
And judging by the tone alone, whoever said it had no intention of whispering.
The room suddenly went very, very quiet.
