Ava gripped her backpack, her knuckles white as she strode through the grand hallway of Lunar Heights Academy. The hum of conversations around her barely registered. She wasn't here to fit in; she was here to survive.

"Montclair," a low voice interrupted her focus.

She glanced up sharply, meeting storm-gray eyes that held too much intensity for a first encounter. Damon Ashford leaned casually against a marble pillar, his broad frame blocking her path.

"You dropped this." He held up a notebook, its corner frayed where she'd stuffed it hastily into her bag that morning.

"I didn't," she replied, her voice steady despite the unease he stirred in her.

Damon's lips quirked, a hint of amusement glinting in his gaze. "You did. But sure, let's pretend you're too careful for that."

Ava snatched the notebook from his hand, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks."

Before she could walk away, he stepped into her path.

"Don't worry, Montclair," he said softly. "We all have something we're hiding. Yours won't stay hidden for long here."

Her stomach twisted. Was he mocking her, or did he actually know something? The cryptic words clung to her thoughts even as she pushed past him, determined to disappear into the crowd of elite students.

A slam echoed through the practice arena, the dull thud of bodies colliding reverberating off the walls. Damon wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping back as his opponent hit the ground hard.

"Not bad," Nathaniel said, getting to his feet with a smirk. The older Ashford brother dusted himself off, his expression calculated.

"Not bad?" Damon echoed. "I just threw you halfway across the room."

"And yet you still haven't won," Nathaniel countered, lunging forward before Damon could respond.

Their clash was ferocious, each blow calculated to test the other's limits. Damon knew what this was—a performance, a test Nathaniel demanded he pass, even if it killed him.

"You've been gone too long, little brother," Nathaniel taunted, his voice low enough that only Damon could hear. "You don't belong here anymore."

Damon didn't answer. He slammed Nathaniel into the ground, the air leaving his opponent's lungs in a harsh grunt.

The referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the match, but Nathaniel's words stayed with Damon. They always did.

In another corner of the academy, Ava sat on a stone bench, flipping through the notebook Damon had returned. She wasn't sure why she'd bothered keeping it—it was old, filled with scraps of memories she hadn't had the heart to throw away.

A shadow fell across the page, and she looked up to see Lucas Draven standing over her.

"Didn't take you for a note-taker," he said, his tone casual, though his eyes searched her face for something deeper.

"I don't take notes," Ava replied curtly, closing the notebook.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Then what's in it?"

"Nothing that concerns you," she shot back, standing up to leave.

"Maybe not," Lucas said, his voice taking on a sharper edge, "but you do concern me, Ava Montclair."

The way he said her name sent a chill down her spine.

Selene paced the corridor outside Damon's dorm, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. When the door finally opened, she fixed him with a glare.

"We need to talk."

Damon sighed, stepping aside to let her in. "This better be important."

"It is," Selene snapped, crossing her arms. "That girl—Ava—she's trouble."

"I don't see how that's your business," Damon replied coolly.

"She's a distraction," Selene insisted, her voice rising. "And we can't afford distractions right now. The prophecy—"

"Enough," Damon interrupted, his tone cutting through her words like a blade. "I know what the prophecy says, Selene. I don't need you to remind me."

Her eyes flashed with frustration, but she held her tongue. For now.

Later that night, Ava stood by the edge of the academy's training grounds, the cool air brushing against her skin. She wasn't sure why she'd come here—it wasn't like she could train alongside the others.

But something drew her to this place, a feeling she couldn't explain.

"Ava."

The voice startled her, and she turned to see Damon approaching, his expression unreadable.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, stopping a few feet away.

"I'm not alone now," she replied, her tone defensive.

Damon's gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something more. But before he could, a distant howl echoed through the night, chilling them both.

"What was that?" Ava asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Damon's expression darkened. "Trouble."

The sound of footsteps approached rapidly, and they turned to see Nathaniel running toward them, his face pale.

"They're here," Nathaniel said, his voice tight with urgency. "The rogues. They've breached the perimeter."

Damon's jaw clenched. "Get back to the dorm

s, Ava. Now."

But as the howls grew louder, Ava knew there was no escaping what was coming.