Planting her feet firmly on the polished floor, she looked straight into his eyes, which were burning with a suppressed fury.
She tilted her chin up, speaking with an aggravating, icy composure.
“It seems you don’t just suffer from vision problems, but hearing ones too.
I said: watch where you’re going.” An absolute silence gripped the hallway.
Two students passing by in the distance stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the unfolding scene with wide eyes; no one had ever dared to address Damian in such a manner.
Damian took a heavy, menacing step toward her.
He lowered his towering frame until his face was level with hers, intentionally throwing off an aura of oppressive pressure that thinned the very air in her lungs.
He raised his index finger, thrusting it forward in a blatant threat that practically brushed the tip of her nose.
“That spark in your eyes?
I’ll stomp it out with my boot, you absolute nobody,” he snarled, his breath hot against her skin.
“You don’t even realize who you just dared to insult.” Roxy swept a slow, calculated gaze over him, from the top of his blonde head all the way down to his boots.
She let out a soft, mocking laugh, then carelessly flicked his raised hand away from her face with the tips of her fingers.
“I don’t care who you are,” she countered, her voice dripping with sheer amusement as she stepped around him.
“Titles don’t give you an extra eye in the back of your head.
Next time, borrow your kind’s famous sense of smell to avoid slamming into me.” Roxy shifted past him with phantom-like grace, striking forward without throwing a single glance behind her.
She left a boiling vortex of pure fury in her wake.
Damian’s hazel eyes widened, the whites staining a dangerous, bloody red from the sheer weight of the suppressed rage and biting humiliation he had just swallowed before the gathering crowd of students who had huddled to watch the spectacle.
She continued down the long hallway, her mind churning with cold, calculated precision.
She knew with absolute certainty that her list of enemies was filling up with lethal names before she had even set foot in her first official class.
But the realization only hardened her resolve; these predators didn’t submit to those who fled.
The only way to break them was to stand before them with unyielding steel.
Roxy pushed open the massive, double wooden doors leading into the Grand Reception Hall.
A low hum of chatter and stifled murmurs washed over her.
She paused at the threshold, her gaze sweeping the room to dissect the environment.
The scene before her perfectly mirrored the power balances Simon had detailed.
In the center of the hall, lounging across plush crimson velvet seats, a faction of students held court.
Their spines were perfectly straight, their faces dripping with an effortless, predatory pride.
They threw blade-like stares across the room, dominating the space without needing to utter a word.
Conversely, tucked away in the dim corners and under the shadows of the stone pillars, smaller figures shrunk into themselves, their eyes darting with deep, instinctive terror, flinching at every shifting shadow.
A sudden vibration buzzed inside the pocket of her navy blazer.
Roxy pulled out her phone, the screen illuminating with an official email bearing the sharp, raised crest of the academy: >**[Housing & Dormitory Administration: The Attic – West Tower – Room 404]** A sharp, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
She tucked the phone away, whispering to herself with dangerous defiance, “The attic…
a calculated, petty way of telling me I’m nothing but garbage with no place among the masters.
Fine.
If they won’t give me a place that fits, I’ll carve one out with my own bare nails.” She marched toward the towering marble stairs, ascending one step after another without a trace of haste.
Reaching the top floor, she was greeted by a broad, immaculately polished brass plaque engraved with bold letters: **[Royal Elite Wing]**.
A thick, crimson carpet rolled out down the massive corridor, entirely swallowing the sound of her footsteps and oozing absolute luxury.
At measured intervals stood four giant doors crafted from dark teakwood looking less like dormitory entrances and more like impenetrable fortress gates.
She stopped at the first door, studying a gleaming silver plate mounted in the center: *Alpha Damian Blackwood*.
She turned her gaze directly across the hall to find an identical door bearing another name: *Alpha Cayden Wilder*.
Roxy pressed on slowly, her eyes lifting to admire the massive crystal chandeliers dangling from the high ceiling like clusters of frozen light, until she reached the third door, inscribed with *Alpha Zane Alistair*, and its counterpart across the hall, *Alpha Asher Frost*.
“So,” she murmured under her breath, “these four are the kings of this castle.
The ones who rule without question.” “You’re the new human, then?” The voice cracked from behind her like striking iron.
It was dry and absolute, shattering the quiet of the corridor.
Roxy turned her body deliberately to find a woman in her late forties.
The woman stood with an impossibly rigid posture, dressed in a stark black formal suit entirely devoid of wrinkles.
Her pitch-black hair was pulled back into a severe, tightly bound bun, not a single stray strand escaping.
Behind her precise spectacles sat cold black eyes, dissecting Roxy to find the structural flaws in her human frame.
Roxy adjusted her stance, meeting the stare with a calm, unbended gaze.
“Yes.
I am Roxy Sterling.” The woman pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a single index finger, her tone dry and barren of any warmth.
“I am Samantha Collins, the Head Overseer of this sector.” She gestured with a flat palm toward the dark end of the long corridor.
“Your room is at the highest point of the attic, belonging to the West Tower.
You will find the stairwell at the very end of this Elite Wing.
And if you have heavy luggage, do not expect anyone to help you drag it up.
The rules here are absolute.
We depend on ourselves; we do not play servant to anyone.” Not a single flicker of surprise or annoyance crossed Roxy’s face.
She loosely interlaced her fingers behind her back, her voice level and steady.
“I’ve depended on myself since the first day I breathed air in this world, Mrs.
Collins.
This won’t be an issue at all.” The Overseer turned on her heel and marched away without another word.
Roxy continued toward the end of the royal wing, discovering a staircase completely detached from the luxury of the marble below.
It was narrow, with rough, unpainted gray stone walls.
The moment her foot hit the first step, motion-sensor lights clicked on above, cutting through the dimness in sharp succession with her movements.
She shoved open the small wooden door at the end of the hallway bearing the number 404.
A sharp, grating screech echoed into the space a clear sign the room had been abandoned for years.
The door revealed a cramped, suffocating room holding a small iron bed frame and an old wooden wardrobe rotting at the edges.
A thick, heavy layer of gray dust blanketed every single surface.
Roxy exhaled, blowing a breath that swirled the polluted air.
A mocking smile etched onto her face.
“Welcome to the glamorous life of Cinderella, Roxy.” Stepping through the debris, she approached the room’s lone window.
She wiped the accumulated grime off the glass with her fingertips, and stepped back, her eyes widening.
The view from this height was staggering it laid out the entire anatomy of the academy like a carefully drawn map.
The vast courtyard, the pulsing stone fountain, and even the dark, shifting boundaries of the Forbidden Forest stretched out like a black ocean beneath her watch.
A wicked, cunning glint flashed in her eyes as she turned back to the absolute chaos of the room.
“Good thing I left my heavy trunks in the main lobby down below.” The thought of dragging massive luggage up those suffocating stairs wasn’t even a possibility, and cleaning this wreckage with her own hands was beneath her.
She sank her hands deep into her blazer pockets, her thoughts locking onto her next move.
“Time to find a few lackeys who will be thrilled to execute my orders without a complaint.” Roxy wasn’t the product of an aristocratic family with legacy and wealth; she was an orphan raised within the bleak, suffocating walls of a dismal asylum.
Yet, since her early childhood, she had carried an innate aura of command a raw, quiet authority that placed her as the ruler of whatever room she stepped into.
Even the cruelest matrons at the asylum had handled her with calculated caution, treating her entirely differently from the other children.
Throughout her school years, she was never the weak target for torment; she was the deterrent.
People feared looking her in the eye or stepping into her path.
She descended back into the expansive main lobby where swarms of students were pushing past one another in a loud chatter.
Her gaze cut through the crowds like a veteran hunter selecting prey, until her eyes locked onto a noticeably slight, slender girl.
The girl walked with dropped shoulders and her chin tilted toward the floor, her long brown hair woven into two messy braids framing her face.
She adjusted her glasses with a trembling hand, looking as if her very spirit were about to evaporate from the surrounding anxiety.
Roxy intercepted her path smoothly, cutting her off entirely.
“You.
What’s your name?” The girl stopped dead, her brown eyes widening in a mixture of confusion and fear.
In this brutal environment, no one bothered to speak to her or acknowledge her existence; she was a ghost to them.
She swallowed hard, her voice a faint whisper.
“I’m…
Cynthia.” Roxy’s features softened into a warm, calculated smile.
“Cynthia.
A soft, beautiful name.
I’m Roxy.” “You’re…
that human girl everyone is talking about?” “Exactly, that’s me.
And from this exact moment, you are my close friend in this academy.” Cynthia’s limbs locked.
She was a vulnerable Omega, devoid of a strong pack to shield her or power to elevate her status.
Never in her life had she held the privilege of a companion to stand by her side.
A sudden, almost naive childlike joy sparked behind her lenses.
“Your friend?
Me?
Do you really mean that?” “Of course.
Why wouldn’t I?” Roxy turned smoothly, leading the way back toward the stairs with straight, military-like precision.
“Now…
follow me.” Cynthia followed with a bowed head and submissive steps.
To anyone watching from a distance, they would have sworn Roxy was a ruling Luna of immense authority, and Cynthia was merely her obedient shadow executing her will.
They climbed the narrow steps to the attic.
Shoving the door open, Roxy pointed her index finger at the mountain of dust and chaos inside.
“Cynthia, your first and most essential duty as my close friend is to make this room gleam until it blinds.”