The debate hall at Wolf-High Academy felt alive with tension. Aurora sat towards the back, gripping her notebook tight. Her heart raced with anxiety. Bright chandeliers lit up the space, showcasing students dressed to impress. She felt out of place.
Today's topic was: "Should an Alpha's power be earned or inherited?" It hit home for Aurora. She often thought about how strength shouldn't be tied to family or status. But challenging the crowd in front of her wasn't an option. They were the elite, and she knew her place.
Audrey SilverMoon stood at the podium like a queen addressing her court, her voice smooth and commanding. Her arguments were polished, her delivery flawless. She smirked as she spoke, glancing toward Aurora as if daring her to respond. The room hung on Audrey's every word, nodding in agreement, laughing at her quips.
"An Alpha's power isn't something you can simply earn," Audrey declared, her tone dripping with disdain. "It's in the blood, the lineage. Leadership isn't a skill you can study or fake—it's inherited, passed down through generations of purity and strength. Without it, well…" Her gaze landed squarely on Aurora. "You're just pretending, aren't you?"
The room murmured, laughter bubbled up, and Aurora felt heat rise to her face. She tightened her grip on her notebook, fingers shaking.
"Anyone want to counter that?" Audrey sweetly goaded. "Maybe someone who thinks they're… worthy?"
Aurora's heart sank as all eyes turned to her. The pressure felt unbearable. She wanted to melt into her chair. Before she could gather her thoughts, a voice cut in.
"Great point, Audrey," chimed in Solomon Black, Audrey's loyal follower. He looked more like a polished politician than a student. "This place isn't for everyone. Some might need to think if they belong here."
His words stung, and the laughter following them felt like a slap. Aurora clenched her fists and fought the urge to flee. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
"Aurora?" Audrey tilted her head, pretending to care. "You've been so quiet. Got nothing to say? Or are you struggling to keep up?"
Louder laughter filled the room, and Aurora's chest felt tight. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Thoughts clashed in her mind, but they weren't strong enough to overcome the walls of privilege surrounding her tormentors.
"Enough."
The voice cut through the chaos. Silence fell as everyone turned to the speaker—Finley Blackthorne. He sat back, looking completely unbothered, but his sharp eyes were focused on Audrey.
"Finley," Audrey began, her tone shifting, "I was just—"
"Being tiresome," he interrupted smoothly. His tone wasn't harsh, but it made her stop. "Aurora doesn't need to defend her place here to you. This is a debate hall, not a stage for your insecurities."
Audrey's cheeks turned red. Solomon opened his mouth to argue, but Finley shot him a look, and he quickly sat down.
Aurora held her breath. Finley hadn't defended her directly, but he'd shifted the focus away from her. For a moment, Aurora thought the worst was over. But then Audrey's expression darkened, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "Thanks, Finley. We wouldn't want to bore you," she said, her eyes glaring.
The tension eased a bit as the debate continued, but Aurora could feel Audrey's gaze still on her. It was cold and calculating. She knew it wasn't over.
Later that evening, Aurora found herself alone in the library. One desk lamp flickered, creating long shadows. She stared blankly at her textbook, words blending. The humiliation from earlier haunted her, and she worried about what Audrey might plan next.
But along with fear, anger bubbled inside her. She was mad at Audrey, Solomon, and the whole system that let them bully others. She was also mad at herself for saying nothing when she had so much to say.
This time, she wouldn't back down.
Aurora straightened up, gripping her pen. She started writing, laying out her thoughts. If they wanted proof that she belonged, she would give it to them. Not by sinking to their level, but by showing the strength they didn't see.
Meanwhile, Audrey paced her room. Her heels clicked on the shiny wood floor as she replayed the debate in her mind. Finley's dismissal stung. Aurora's attempt at acting innocent made her furious.
"She thinks she can humiliate me?" Audrey growled. "I won't let that happen again."
Her mind raced with ideas, each one meaner than the last. She wouldn't stop until Aurora was put in her place, and this time, Finley wouldn't save her.
The next morning, Aurora walked into the dining hall, doing her best to ignore the stares and whispers. She spotted Sofia waving from a corner table and started walking towards her. But before she could take more than a few steps, she slipped.
The world spun as she fell, her tray crashing to the floor. Laughter erupted, mocking her. She scrambled to her knees, heat flooding her face. There was oil on the floor—someone had set her up.
Audrey's laughter rang out above the rest, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. "Careful, Aurora," she called, her tone dripping with false concern. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Aurora clenched her fists but stood up, legs shaky. Her chest burned from holding back tears. Instead of running, she looked directly at Audrey, meeting her gaze with a defiance she hadn't known she possessed.
For a moment, Audrey's smile faded.
Silently, Aurora walked away, leaving the mess behind. In her mind, she promised this wasn't over.
As Aurora stepped out into the courtyard, she felt a chill crawl down her spine. The shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, and the faint rustle of leaves carried an eerie whisper. She paused her senses on high alert.
"Watch your back," a voice whispered from the shadows.
Aurora spun around, but there was no one there—just the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her.