The early morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Dorian Vaelis' room, casting long, golden streaks across the polished wood floor. The soft glow illuminated the minimalistic space—clean lines, dark furniture, and not a single item out of place. Dorian stood in front of the mirror, meticulously adjusting the final button of his school jacket. His sharp, dark green eyes scanned his reflection with a practiced precision, ensuring everything was as it should be.
The navy blazer fit him perfectly. His president's badge, polished to a gleaming shine, was pinned proudly to his lapel—an unmistakable mark of his authority at the prestigious Haleworth Academy, the most elite private school in the country. As the head of the student council, Dorian had been groomed for this role from the moment he set foot on campus. It was expected of him. Perfection was expected of him.
He ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, smoothing the few rebellious strands that insisted on falling over his forehead. His reflection stared back—calm, composed, everything an Alpha heir should be. There was no room for error. No space for imperfection. Alphas lead, and Dorian was determined to live up to that standard. His parents had made sure of it.
With one final glance, Dorian turned away from the mirror, slipping his wristwatch on—a sleek, modern design his father had gifted him upon becoming student council president. The weight of the watch felt grounding, a reminder of the expectations that rested heavily on his shoulders.
The silence of the Vaelis estate was familiar. His morning routine was always the same: wake early, dress sharply, and head down to breakfast precisely at 7:00 AM. Discipline was the foundation of success—another lesson drilled into him by his father.
As Dorian made his way down the grand staircase, the sound of his polished shoes echoed in the stillness of the house. The mansion, with its towering ceilings and cold marble floors, was as imposing as ever, a reflection of the Vaelis family's power and control. His parents were already seated in the dining room, their presence as commanding as the environment itself.
Eryx Vaelis glanced up from his newspaper, his pale blue eyes flickering over Dorian with a sharp, assessing gaze. "You're on time, as usual."
Dorian gave a curt nod as he took his seat at the long dining table. "Of course." The words were simple, automatic. Being late was not an option. Being anything less than perfect wasn't either.
Cassandra Vaelis, seated at the opposite end of the table, gave Dorian an approving look as she sipped her tea. "Your first council meeting of the term is today, isn't it?"
"It is," Dorian replied, already mentally running through the agenda he'd prepared the night before. He had everything planned down to the last detail—committee reports, upcoming events, disciplinary measures. Nothing would be out of place. It never was.
"Good," Cassandra said, her voice smooth and composed, but with an underlying edge. "Make sure the council understands who's in charge this year. Set the tone early."
Dorian nodded again, his expression unchanged. "I will."
There was no doubt in his mind that he would maintain control, just as he had done in the years prior. His reputation as a fair but firm leader preceded him, and his influence at Haleworth Academy was unquestionable. But beneath the surface of his calm exterior, a familiar pressure simmered—the ever-present weight of expectation. His father's cold, calculating gaze followed him wherever he went, even when Eryx wasn't physically present. Perfection wasn't just encouraged—it was demanded.
Breakfast passed in silence, the only sounds of the clinking of silverware and the rustle of the newspaper. Once finished, Dorian excused himself and gathered his belongings for the day. His sleek black satchel, carefully packed the night before, held everything he would need: perfectly organized notes, his schedule, and the council documents. He moved with precision, every action purposeful, a product of years of strict routine.
As he stepped out of the front door, the crisp autumn air greeted him, cool against his pale skin. The Vaelis family chauffeur was already waiting at the curb, the dark luxury car gleaming under the morning light. Dorian slipped into the back seat, and within seconds, they were on the way to Haleworth Academy.
_
As the car sped smoothly toward the academy, Dorian's gaze drifted to the passing scenery—rows of immaculate estates and manicured lawns, all perfectly aligned, like everything in his life. Everything under control. Everything as it should be.
Yet, beneath the polished surface of his routine, a quiet fatigue gnawed at him. He didn't let it show, of course—not to his parents, not to the council, not to anyone. But there, in the silent comfort of the car, with no one to impress, the weight of it all pressed down harder than ever. The endless demands for perfection, for control, for absolute composure. The constant pressure to be the ideal Alpha, to be exactly what he was supposed to be.
He stared out of the window, watching the world go by, and for just a moment, he let the thought slip through—a thought he'd kept buried for so long.
What would it be like to let go? To defy everything his parents had drilled into him? To not care about perfection?
A flicker of rebellion stirred in his chest, unfamiliar and unsettling. What if he just... stopped? Skipped a council meeting? Let his hair fall where it wanted? Showed up late—just once?
He frowned slightly, the idea both thrilling and terrifying. How would it feel to not be perfect? To not live under the constant scrutiny of his parents' expectations? He didn't know, because he had never let himself consider it. But the thought lingered longer than it should have, pulling at something deep within him.
But then, as quickly as it came, he shut it down.
Dorian's jaw tightened, and he blinked, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. There was no time for this—no room for weakness, no space for rebellion. He couldn't afford to indulge in such pointless fantasies. His life wasn't about freedom or rebellion. It was about control. Order.
Just like his father had taught him.
His grip on his satchel tightened as the gates of Haleworth came into view. The brief flicker of defiance was gone, buried deep beneath the layers of discipline he had spent years perfecting.
Perfection was all that mattered.
And perfection, he reminded himself, came with a price.
_
The car glided smoothly through the grand iron gates of Haleworth Academy, the imposing structure of the school rising ahead like a monument to discipline and tradition. Every inch of the campus was meticulously maintained—lush, sprawling lawns framed by tall, ancient trees and stately brick buildings. It was the kind of place where the elite sent their children to be molded into the next generation of leaders, and Dorian, as the head of the student council, was at the very top.
As the car rolled to a stop, Dorian took a deep breath, his mask of calm composure sliding effortlessly back into place. The momentary flicker of rebellion that had dared to rise within him earlier was gone—forgotten, buried beneath the weight of responsibility. He couldn't afford distractions. Not here.
He stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket as the polished brass of his president's badge caught the morning light. Instantly, the attention of nearby students shifted toward him. Whispers passed through the crowd, eyes lingering on him with a mix of admiration and respect.
Dorian Vaelis—Alpha, student council president, and the embodiment of perfection.
He straightened his shoulders, slipping into the role effortlessly. It was as natural as breathing. The expectations, the stares, the constant watchful eyes—they had become a part of his everyday life, and he handled them as flawlessly as ever.
"Morning, President Vaelis." One of the underclassmen nodded in respect as Dorian passed, his voice tinged with awe. Dorian offered a brief, polite nod in return, his steps purposeful and measured as he made his way across the courtyard.
Around him, Haleworth bustled with the orderly chaos of students heading to their first classes. The sound of footsteps on cobblestones, the low murmur of conversations, the clatter of lockers being opened—it all blended into the familiar rhythm of the academy's carefully controlled environment. Nothing out of place, nothing unexpected.
Just the way it was supposed to be.
Dorian's morning routine was precise—he would drop by the council room first, review the agenda for today's meeting, and then proceed to his first class. Everything was planned down to the minute. There was no room for surprises.
He entered the main building, his polished shoes clicking against the pristine marble floors. As he approached the council room, a familiar face greeted him.
Talia Moreau, the council's vice president, was already waiting by the door. Tall, sharp-eyed, and efficient, Talia was as meticulous as Dorian in ensuring that the council ran smoothly. Her Beta status didn't make her any less formidable—if anything, it made her more so. She had a way of keeping everything organized without ever breaking a sweat.
"Everything ready for the meeting?" Dorian asked as he reached her, his tone neutral, business-like.
Talia gave a quick nod, a clipboard in hand. "All set. Just some final adjustments to the event schedule for the fundraiser, but everything else is on track."
Dorian took the clipboard from her, scanning it with the practiced ease of someone who had been managing these affairs for years. There was a small satisfaction in seeing everything perfectly aligned, every detail falling into place. This was his world—controlled, orderly, predictable.
Until today.
Talia's voice cut through his concentration. "By the way, did you hear? There's a new transfer student arriving today. Some kind of scholarship program."
Dorian frowned slightly, glancing up from the clipboard. "A transfer?"
Talia nodded, flipping through her notes. "Apparently. A scholarship student from one of the public academies downtown. It's been the talk among some of the teachers. Supposed to be... different."
Different. That word hung in the air for a moment, setting off a quiet ripple of curiosity beneath Dorian's calm surface. Scholarship students were rare at Haleworth, even more so when they came from outside the tightly controlled circle of the elite.
"Do we know anything about him?" Dorian asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself.
"Not much. Name's Rhys Everen. Omega." She shrugged, though her eyes flashed with mild interest. "There's some talk about him being... challenging. Smart, apparently, but not exactly the type to follow rules."
Dorian's frown deepened at that. An Omega, transferred to Haleworth on scholarship, with a reputation for not following rules? That was... unusual. And in a place like Haleworth, where order was paramount, unusual usually meant trouble.
But trouble wasn't something Dorian had time for. He brushed off the thought as quickly as it came, handing the clipboard back to Talia.
"Keep an eye on him," Dorian said, his voice even. "If he causes any problems, we'll deal with it."
Talia raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a slight smirk. "Of course. But something tells me this one's going to be interesting."
Dorian didn't respond, already turning his attention back to the day's schedule. Interesting wasn't what he needed. Interesting meant unpredictable, and unpredictable was the one thing he couldn't allow. Not with his role, not with the expectations placed on him.
As he stepped into the council room, his thoughts lingered momentarily on the name Rhys Everen, but he quickly pushed it aside. There were more important things to focus on.
Perfection, after all, didn't allow room for distractions.
_
The morning passed with its usual rhythm—meetings, schedules, decisions—all carried out with the same seamless efficiency that defined Dorian's every day. The council meeting had gone smoothly, as expected, and the academy grounds were already beginning to stir with the energy of students preparing for their first classes.
Dorian adjusted his jacket, heading down the quiet hallway that led outside. He had a new task to attend to—a patrol of the academy's grounds. Normally, this wasn't his responsibility today, but Aaron, one of the other council members, had been pulled out of school last minute for a family emergency. Dorian had stepped in without hesitation—because that's what was expected of him. It didn't matter that the duty wasn't his or that he had a full plate of responsibilities. Perfection didn't make excuses.
His shoes echoed softly as he made his way to the back of the main building, where the narrow pathways wrapped around to the less-frequented parts of the academy. The edges of the grounds were lined with thick bushes and the tall, iron fence that marked the boundary of Haleworth's prestigious estate.
Dorian's patrols were usually uneventful, and today he didn't expect anything different. The academy's rules were strict, and most students knew better than to loiter around during class time—especially near the less monitored back areas. Still, it was part of his duty to make sure everything was in order. Order was everything.
His steps slowed as he approached the far corner of the academy, the building's shadow casting a cool stretch across the lawn. The area was quiet, the morning air crisp and still, when a sudden rustling sound broke through the silence.
Dorian paused, narrowing his eyes toward the bushes that lined the fence. He scanned the area, his instincts sharpening. Someone's there.
His first thought was that it was a student trying to skip out on class, maybe hiding out behind the bushes to avoid detection. It wouldn't be the first time, though most students knew better than to sneak around where Dorian could catch them. But something about the sound—quick, desperate—made him hesitate.
Another rustle, louder this time.
Dorian's eyes locked on the spot, his footsteps steady as he moved closer. The bushes on the far side were thick, the leaves swaying as if someone—or something—was pushing through. His senses heightened, he approached cautiously, his mind already running through the possibilities. A student sneaking out? A small animal? Something more?
But before he could reach the source, the bushes burst open with a flurry of movement. A figure leapt over the fence, quick and graceful—well, almost graceful—clearing the iron barrier in one fluid motion, but misjudging the landing.
Dorian had no time to react.
The figure collided with him, knocking him off balance, and they both tumbled to the ground, a sudden tangle of limbs and startled breaths. Dorian hit the grass hard, the wind knocked from his lungs, his body pinned beneath the unexpected weight.
For a moment, all Dorian could register was the rush of sensation—warmth, the smell of fresh earth, and the feeling of someone pressed against him.
"Ugh," The voice above him groaned, breathless and annoyed. "That wasn't supposed to happen."
Dorian blinked, trying to catch his breath, and found himself staring up at a boy—his body pressed awkwardly against Dorian's as he scrambled to untangle himself. His hair was dark auburn, messy and wild from the jump, and his light gray eyes blinked down at Dorian with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
The boy rolled off Dorian and stood quickly, brushing himself off as if falling on someone during an ill-planned fence jump was just another part of his morning routine. "Sorry about that," he said, though the apology sounded more like an afterthought than genuine regret. He glanced over his shoulder toward the fence he had just scaled, then back at Dorian, offering a lopsided smirk. "Didn't think anyone would be back here this early."
Dorian sat up, his mind still processing the scene, the boy's voice cutting through the shock of the moment. The audacity of it—sneaking into the academy, jumping the fence, and then landing on him of all people—was almost enough to leave Dorian speechless.
Almost.
"What," Dorian managed, his voice steady but cold, "Do you think you're doing?"
The boy grinned, not at all fazed by Dorian's icy tone. "Sneaking in," He said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm late, and I figured this was the quickest way to get to class."
Dorian stared at him, incredulous. "You... jumped the fence? To avoid being late?"
The boy shrugged, completely nonchalant. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." He extended a hand toward Dorian to help him up, the smirk never leaving his face. "You okay? That was a bit of a rough landing."
Dorian ignored the offered hand, standing on his own, his expression hardening. This kid...
He brushed the dirt from his jacket, his mind racing to process the absurdity of the situation. Whoever this was, he clearly had no respect for the academy's rules—or for Dorian's authority.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" Dorian demanded, standing tall, his voice dripping with controlled anger.
The boy raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Nope. But I'm guessing someone important?"
Dorian's irritation flared, though he kept his composure. "I'm Dorian Vaelis, head of the student council."
The boy's eyes widened slightly, as if the name registered—but only briefly. "Ohhh, that Dorian." His grin returned, more amused than ever. "Well, that makes this a little more awkward, doesn't it?"
Dorian narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "And you are?"
"Rhys Everen," The boy replied casually, offering a mock salute. "New transfer. Scholarship student."
Rhys Everen. The name clicked in Dorian's mind, and suddenly, everything made sense. The Omega transfer, the one who wasn't supposed to follow rules. The one Talia had mentioned.
Dorian studied him for a moment, his eyes taking in Rhys' carefree posture, the way he didn't seem to care that he had just broken every rule in the book by sneaking into school like this. Rhys didn't fit the mold of a typical Haleworth student, and certainly not of an Omega.
"I could report you for this," Dorian said, his voice colder than before. "Sneaking into school, disrespecting authority—it's not the kind of behavior tolerated here."
Rhys raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, easy there, council president. No harm done, right? I'm just late for class. You're not going to ruin my first day already, are you?"
Dorian's eyes flashed, his irritation mounting. Rhys was clearly a troublemaker, someone who had no respect for the rules or the structure Dorian held so tightly to. But before Dorian could snap back with a reprimand, he hesitated, something in Rhys' carefree attitude tugging at him.
What would it be like, he wondered, to not care like that? To not follow the rules?
The thought hit him suddenly, unbidden, and he pushed it down as quickly as it had come.
"Get to class," Dorian said stiffly, his voice sharp with authority. "Next time, use the front gate."
Rhys gave a lazy salute, turning to jog off toward the main building. "Sure thing, council president," He called over his shoulder. "See you around."
Dorian stood still for a moment, watching as Rhys disappeared into the distance, his irritation lingering in the air. Rhys Everen. This Omega was going to be trouble.
And somehow, Dorian knew this was only the beginning.