I find my seat among the faculty at the very front of the Great Hall, my hands trembling so violently in my lap that I have to tuck them under my thighs to keep them still.
I try to focus on the Headmaster's welcoming speech. Something about tradition, excellence, and the bright futures awaiting the leaders of the next generation, but the words are just background noise, like the hum of a distant engine.
My skin is buzzing with a frantic, restless energy. It's like an invisible electric current is running through the old oak floorboards, anchoring me to a specific point in this room.
I shouldn't be looking. I know the rules of survival for a rogue better than anyone: keep your eyes down, blend into the shadows, and never, ever draw attention to yourself.
I should be staring at the podium, nodding politely at the Headmaster's tired jokes, and looking every bit the professional, boring Literature teacher I'm pretending to be.
But I can't help it. My body isn't mine anymore. My head turns of its own accord, my eyes wandering toward the back of the hall where the seniors are seated in a sea of charcoal blazers and silk ties.
And then I see him.
He is impossible to miss. In a room full of the most powerful teenagers in the country, he sits at the center like a sun around which everything else orbits.
He isn't wearing the school uniform like the others; his tie is loosened, and his jacket is draped open, projecting a level of casual arrogance that would get any other student expelled.
But no one says a word to him. He is radiating a level of raw, unfiltered dominance that makes the very air around his chair vibrate.
He's leaning back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking like a king who is thoroughly bored with his own kingdom. Even from this distance, the sheer physical gravity of him is suffocating.
This is Killian Blackwood; the billionaire heir to the Blackwood throne, the future Alpha Prime, and the most feared student in the long, bloody history of this school. I've heard the rumors in the staff room: he is brilliant, he is brutal, and he hasn't met a rule he couldn't break.
He's only seventeen, a boy by the laws of humans, but he has the broad, powerful shoulders of a man and the piercing, unearthly eyes of a god.
There is nothing young about the way he holds himself. He carries the weight of an entire empire on his back, and he does it without breaking a sweat.
Suddenly, my wolf; the silent broken part of me that hasn't made a sound since the night my parents were slaughtered in the snow, stirs.
For years, she has been a cold, hollow weight in my chest, a ghost of a creature that I thought had died along with my pack. But now, she stands up. She shakes the dust off her fur and lets out a deafening, soul-shattering howl that vibrates through my every bone.
MATE
The word doesn't just echo in my mind; it echoes through my entire body, making my blood turn to liquid fire. The bond I've read about in fairy tales, the one I thought was a myth for rogues like me, slams into place with the force of a high-speed collision.
I gasp, the sound lost in the drone of the speech, and my eyes lock onto his.
The world around us vanishes. The rows of students, the faculty, the portraits on the walls; it all blurs into a gray smudge. There is only him.
Killian doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away or blink in surprise. It's as if he was waiting for me to find him, as if he had been tracking my scent from the moment I stepped onto the grounds.
He leans forward slowly, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze boring into mine with a terrifying, predatory intensity.
Across the silent, crowded hall, I see his pupils dilate until his eyes are almost entirely black, ringed by only a thin, shimmering circle of lethal gold. It's the look of a wolf that has just scented its prize.
He knows. He felt the snap of the bond just as clearly as I did. He felt the fire in the blood and the roar of the soul. For a rogue, this is a disaster. For an Alpha heir, this is a claim.
A slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his face. It isn't a friendly smile, and it certainly isn't the smile of a student looking at his new teacher.
It's the dark, satisfied look of a hunter who just found exactly what he's been looking for after a long, hungry winter. He doesn't look away, even when the Headmaster mentions the importance of "respecting staff." Instead, he keeps tracking me with those golden eyes, his stare heavy and possessive.
He is claiming me in front of everyone; his peers, his family, the entire faculty and he does this without saying a single word. He is marking me with his gaze, telling the world that I belong to him before I've even had the chance to introduce myself.
My heart is thundering so hard I'm afraid it will crack my ribs. I am a teacher. I am twenty-four years old. I am a fugitive with a fake ID and a dangerous secret. And he is a seventeen-year-old boy who holds my entire future in his hands.
The heat between us is a physical thing, a bridge of lightning stretching across the room. I try to pull my gaze away, to look back at the podium and reclaim some shred of my dignity, but I am paralyzed. I am a bird caught in the stare of a cobra.
As the assembly draws to a close and the students begin to stand, Killian remains seated for a moment longer, his eyes never leaving mine. He looks at me with a hunger that makes my skin burn, a promise of a pursuit that I know I won't be able to outrun.
I came to Blackwood to find safety. I came here to be invisible. But as Killian Blackwood stands up, towering over the students around him, I realize that I've walked straight into the arms of the most dangerous predator of them all. The hunt hasn't just begun; I've already been caught.