Chapter 2 One

Chapter One

Iria’s POV

The first thing I notice about Lunar Crest University is that it doesn’t look like a school, it looks like a castle. Towers that touch the clouds, glass windows that gleam like mirrors, and sprawling lawns so perfectly trimmed they don’t look real.

I press my worn-out sneakers against the pavement and tug the strap of my bag higher onto my shoulder. Everyone walking past me reeks of money. Designer shoes, cars parked in a neat row that cost more than my entire house, and wolves actual wolves lounging lazily beside their owners like loyal pets.

I’m already out of place.

But out of place or not, this is my chance. My dream of becoming an architect begins here. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll prove to everyone including myself that I’m more than the girl who got in because of some scholarship pity.

I whisper under my breath, “Don’t screw this up, Iria.”

“Talking to yourself? Cute.”

I jerk my head up. A girl with perfect auburn curls and lips painted in a glossy red smirk stands in front of me. She’s tall, her skirt shorter than the rules probably allow, and she looks me up and down like I’m something she scraped off her shoe.

“Newbie?” she asks.

“Yes. Iria Howth.” I force a polite smile. “Scholarship student.”

Her smirk widens like she already guessed. “Figures. I’m Lila. Advice? Keep your head down. This place eats people like you alive.”

Before I can respond, a sleek black car purrs to a stop right beside us. My heart skips when the driver steps out. Or maybe not the driver no, he looks more like someone who owns the world.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, his black shirt rolled up to reveal veins running down tattooed forearms. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass, his messy dark hair falls just over piercing grey eyes that scan the crowd with pure boredom.

Grey Bright.

I know because everyone suddenly straightens, whispers his name like a warning. The infamous son of the founder. Ruthless. Introverted. Cold as stone.

And unfortunately for me, he’s walking right toward us.

Lila straightens instantly, flashing a dazzling smile. “Grey.”

He doesn’t even glance at her. His eyes storm-grey and chilling lock onto me. My breath tangles in my throat.

“You’re in my way.” His voice is deep, commanding, like it’s not a request but a fact.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Oh, sorry.” I step aside quickly.

But when I move, his gaze doesn’t. It lingers, sharp, assessing. Like he’s peeling away every layer I’ve ever built around myself.

“Scholarship,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. His lip curls slightly, like the word itself is dirty.

Something in me snaps. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

Lila’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. Around us, a few students gasp. No one talks back to Grey Bright.

His jaw tightens. He steps closer, and the world shrinks. I can smell his cologne dark, woodsy, and dangerous. His eyes pin mine like a predator eyeing prey.

“Don’t mistake charity for belonging,” he says coldly. “You don’t belong here.”

The words slice sharper than claws. My chest tightens, but I lift my chin anyway. “Maybe not. But I earned my spot.”

Something flickers in his eyes quickly, unreadable before his face shuts back into ice. Without another word, he brushes past me, his shoulder grazing mine just enough to send shivers racing down my spine.

Lila exhales loudly, clutching her chest. “You’re insane. Do you want to die? Talking back to Grey is basically asking for a death wish.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” I mutter, though my heart is hammering so hard it feels like it might burst.

Before she can respond, a commotion erupts at the gates. A group of boys in matching jackets obviously Lycans from their sheer size and power are shoving another student around.

“Pathetic omega,” one of them sneers, kicking the boy’s books across the ground.

Anger burns hot in my chest. Before my brain catches up, my feet move. I dart forward and snatch the books up, glaring at the Lycan with more courage than sense.

“Leave him alone.”

The tallest Lycan, with a cruel smile, steps closer. “And what’s this? The charity case thinks she’s a hero?”

He reaches for me, claws glinting

“Enough.”

The voice is sharp, commanding. Cold.

Grey.

He’s standing just a few feet away, his eyes glowing faint silver, his power radiating so thick the air itself seems to hold its breath.

The Lycans hesitate, then back off with grumbles.

“Next time,” Grey says icily, “try not to embarrass yourself.”

I should thank him. But the way he says it, like saving me, was more of an inconvenience than anything igniting something reckless inside me.

“You’re welcome,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrow, sharp as knives. For a second, I think he might actually rip my throat out. But instead, he smirks. A dangerous, mocking smirk.

“You’ll regret that,” he murmurs.

And just like that, he turns and walks away.

I stand frozen, my pulse racing, my body buzzing with adrenaline and something I can’t name.

Because I don’t just feel intimidated. I feel… pulled.

And that terrifies me more than anything.