Chapter 2

Two fifty PM. I stood outside the student council office, taking three deep breaths.

I'd barely slept last night, my mind spinning through possible scenarios. Caleb wasn't stupid. I needed to give him enough value to turn him from enemy into... tool.

I checked my bag one more time, making sure the ancient text was still there. Then I knocked.

"Come in."

The office was exactly what you'd expect from a rich alpha. Caleb sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, watching me like a predator sizing up prey.

"Sit." Not a request.

I sat, clutching my bag in my lap.

He leaned forward. "Last night, you dropped a bomb that could destroy my family. Now you're going to tell me exactly where you heard that information, or I'll make sure you never set foot in this academy again."

His alpha pheromones pressed against me, demanding submission. My wolf stirred, but I kept her down.

"I can do better than tell you where I heard it," I said, meeting his eyes. "I can tell you how to fix it."

That got his attention. His pheromones pulled back slightly.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the leather-bound book. It was old—really old—with a wolf crest embossed on the cover. I'd found it in my mother's things after she died, hidden in a box marked "dangerous."

Turns out she wasn't wrong.

"This," I said, sliding it across his desk, "contains every major bloodline in the werewolf community going back five hundred years. Including the loopholes your ancestors used to maintain their territory rights despite... impurities."

Caleb's hand shot out, grabbing the book. He flipped it open, and I watched his eyes widen as he scanned the pages.

"Where did you get this?"

"My mother. She was a archivist before she..." I trailed off. No need to mention that she'd been killed for knowing too much. "The point is, I can help you navigate the Elder Council's rules. Find the precedents. Build your case."

He looked up at me, suspicion and calculation warring in his expression. "Why would you help me?"

"Because I want something in return."

A smile flickered across his face—the first genuine expression I'd seen from him. "There it is. What do you want? Money?"

"Access to the restricted section of the library. And you call off your dogs. No more 'entertainment' at my expense."

"That's it?"

I shrugged. "I'm a simple girl with simple needs. So, do we have a deal?"

Caleb studied me for a long moment, then extended his hand. "Deal."

His grip was firm, warm. We shook once, and I felt the shift in our dynamic. I wasn't prey anymore. I was useful.

The next few days fell into a strange rhythm. Every evening after classes, I'd meet Caleb in the library. The restricted section was everything I'd hoped for—ancient texts, forbidden knowledge, and most importantly, privacy. No one came up here except us.

At first, Caleb watched me like he expected me to steal something. But as I started pulling relevant passages, cross-referencing bloodlines, and mapping out legal precedents, his attitude changed.

"How do you know all this?" he asked on the third night, looking at the notes I'd compiled.

"I read a lot." I didn't mention that I'd been preparing for this moment for months, that every piece of information I'd gathered was part of a larger plan. "Your great-great-grandmother's case is actually fascinating. She wasn't just half-fae—she was royalty. That's your loophole. Fae nobility counts as pure blood under the Old Laws."

Caleb leaned over my shoulder to look at the passage I was pointing to. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. Werewolves always ran hot, but alphas were like walking furnaces.

"If we can prove the royal lineage," I continued, trying to ignore how my wolf was reacting to his proximity, "the Elder Council has to honor it."

"Can we prove it?"

"I think so. But I need more time with the genealogy records."

He straightened up, and I could breathe normally again. "Take whatever time you need."

Four days later, I finally found it. It was past midnight, and Caleb had fallen asleep at one of the library tables, exhausted from a full day of classes and pack duties. I'd been working through a particularly dense genealogy text when the pieces suddenly clicked into place.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

Caleb jerked awake. "What? What is it?"

"I found her. Your great-great-grandmother. She wasn't just fae royalty—she was the Winter Court's lost princess. There's a whole treaty about her marriage to your ancestor. It's legally binding."

I showed him the page, my hands shaking with excitement. This was it. This was the proof he needed.

Caleb grabbed my hand, his face breaking into the first real smile I'd ever seen from him. "You did it. You actually did it."

His hand was hot against mine, probably because the full moon was coming. We stood there, hands clasped, for about three seconds. The air felt charged, strange.

I was about to pull away when the library door exploded inward.

The bang was so loud we both jumped apart. Finn stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes locked on our joined hands.

"Caleb," his voice came out like a growl, "what are you doing?"

Caleb frowned, standing up. "Finn, watch your tone—"

"I can see you two are really invested in your research." Finn cut him off, his gaze bouncing between me and Caleb. "What's so special about this half-blood that deserves so much of your attention?"

I felt the aggression rolling off him in waves and instinctively stepped back.

Great. The muscle-head was jealous. But jealous of what? Did he think I was seducing his precious president?

Caleb moved in front of me, blocking Finn's line of sight. "She's helping me with family business. Stand down."

"Family business?" Finn laughed coldly. "Since when does the president need a half-blood to—"

He didn't finish. Caleb's pheromones erupted, filling the entire library with alpha dominance. I saw Finn's body go rigid, but the resentment and anger in his eyes only intensified.

Finally, Finn shot me a venomous glare and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Caleb turned to me, his expression complicated.

"Be careful of Finn," he said quietly. "He's been... unstable lately."

I nodded, but inside I was already thinking: Looks like I need to deal with this time bomb sooner than planned.

That night, walking back to my dorm alone, I should have seen it coming.

They grabbed me in the shadows between buildings. Three of them. Finn wasn't there, but I recognized his scent on their clothes. He'd sent his lackeys.

The first punch caught me in the stomach, driving the air from my lungs.

"Stay away from the president," one of them hissed.

I didn't fight back. Couldn't afford to show my real strength. So I took it—the hits, the kicks, the warning.

When they finally left, I lay on the cold ground, tasting blood, and smiled.

Everything was going according to plan.

Even the parts that hurt.