Chapter 2 Strike back if you've got the balls

CHAPTER 002

RAVENNA

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, which was annoying as hell. My dorm room at Midnight Academy was nothing like my old setup, no garage smells, no bike parts scattered around.

Just a stiff mattress, a desk, and a view of the quad where a bunch of early risers were already jogging or whatever rich kids do to look busy.

It was all too clean. My fingers itched for grease and the clank of tools. It was not polished stone and polite smiles. Felt like I’d been swallowed by someone else’s life.

I stretched, feeling the ache from yesterday's ride, and threw on some jeans and my leather jacket. Screw the uniform for now; I'd deal with that later. First things first: registration. And avoiding that wolf prick if I could until when I'm ready to make him my business.

I grabbed my duffel and headed out, the campus paths lined with those old stone buildings that screamed money. Students milled around, mostly shifters, from the way they moved, all confident and pack-like.

A few humans, I guessed, like me, sticking to the edges. I kept my head down, but luck wasn't on my side. As I cut across the main lawn toward the admin building, a shadow fell over me.

I looked up, and there he was: Darius, arms crossed blocking my path like he owned the damn sidewalk. Brown hair, mismatched eyes—one brown, one black—and the kind of calm that says you can break things by thinking about it.

For a second my chest betrayed me and did a stupid little skip. Not helpful.

His buddies flanked him, two other hockey jocks, built like trucks, smirking like they knew a fight was coming.

"Well, well," Darius said, his voice smooth but edged with ice. He was taller up close, with that brown hair and those black and brown unique eyes that probably melted girls. Not me. "If it isn't the dust bunny from yesterday. You got a death wish, riding through here like that? Apologize. Now."

The crowd around us slowed, phones coming out. Great audience participation. I stopped, meeting his stare without flinching. Apologize? For what, existing? "Death wish? Nah, that's you, pretty boy. Blocking girls' ways like some wannabe gatekeeper. Move, or I'll make you."

His eyes narrowed, and I swear I saw a flash of gold in them, wolf stuff, probably. His friends shifted, ready to back him up. "You think you're tough? This is my turf. You owe me for the jacket. Say sorry, and maybe I won't have you shipped back to whatever trailer park you crawled out of."

I smirked, stepping closer so our faces were inches apart. The air smelled like his cologne, expensive and overpowering. "Trailer park? Cute guess. But if you want an apology, try this: Sorry your ego's so fragile it can't handle a little gravel. Now fuck off before I really give you something to cry about."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. One girl whispered, "Did she just...?"

Darius's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides. I didn't wait for the explosion. I shouldered past him, hard enough to make him stumble a step, and kept walking, my head held high, pulse steady.

And you know what…Walking away felt good and dangerous at the same time. I thought about Jax, the crew, the garage and everything I was leaving behind to walk into wolves’ teeth. It could cost me. Worth it? Hell if I knew. For Asteria, for Kira, I’d roll the dice.

"Let him stew. That was just the appetizer."

The admin building was a relief. It was cool, quiet, with wooden panels and a receptionist who looked bored out of her mind. I slid my ID across the counter. "Raven Casmir. Scholarship transfer. I need my room key, uniform, schedule and every other important thing."

She typed away, not looking up. "Casmir... yes. Room 214, east dorms. Here's your uniform, blazer, skirt, the works. Schedule's printed and classes start tomorrow. No bikes on campus grounds after hours, got it?"

"Got it," I muttered, stuffing the bundle under my arm. The uniform looked itchy as hell, but whatever. I turned to leave and nearly collided with a girl coming in, short brown hair, big hazel eyes mirroring mine, carrying a stack of books like they were armor.

"Oh! Sorry," she said, steadying herself. “Oh sorry! You’re the new girl, right? I’m Sam. Room 214? Don’t freak, my stuff’s terrible, and I don’t do fake smiles.”

I nodded, sizing her up. She seemed normal,.not wolfy, not snobby. She was putting on jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers. "Yeah, that's me. Raven. Hope you don't mind the mess; I travel light but rough."

She smiled, a little nervous but genuine. "No problem. I saw you out there with Darius. That was... bold. Most people just bow and scrape around him."

We started walking toward the dorms together, the bundle swinging between us. "Bold? Nah, just honest. Guy's an ass. What's his deal anyway? Thinks he's king shit?"

Samantha laughed, a soft sound that eased the tension. "Pretty much. Alpha family, hockey star, dates whoever he wants and dumps them. But you? Telling him to fuck off? That's new. You're gonna stir things up here, Raven. I can tell."

I grinned, unlocking the door to our new room. It was basic, two beds, two desks, a shared bathroom. My side was empty; hers had posters of bands I'd never heard of and a stuffed bear on the pillow. "Stirring up's my specialty. I grew up with a biker crew. This place is tame compared to bar brawls."

She dropped her books on her bed and sat down, crossing her legs. "Biker crew? Like motorcycles and leather? That's so cool. I'm just a regular human. My parents are teachers. Got in on academics. What's the wildest thing you've done?"

I unpacked my duffel, tossing clothes into the dresser. Teasing her felt easy; she wasn't judging. "Wildest? Rode cross-country on a dare, fixed a busted engine mid-highway with duct tape and spite. You? Bet you've got stories hidden under that good-girl vibe."

Sam blushed, fiddling with her sleeve. "Me? Uh, I snuck out once to a concert. I got grounded for a month. Lame, right? But hey, rooming with you? This year's looking up. Or down in flames. Either way, exciting."

We chatted more, her complaining about the food here, me griping about the no-bike rule. She was easy to talk to, grounded, like she didn't buy into the wolf hierarchy bullshit. By the time we finished unpacking, it felt like we'd known each other longer than an hour.

Later that afternoon, as we headed to the cafeteria for lunch, Sam brought it up. "So, there's this welcome party tonight hosted by one of the hockey guys. I think it's at the frat house off-campus. Everyone's going. You in?"

I poked at my salad, not thrilled. Parties meant crowds, and crowds meant Darius. "Pass. Not my scene. I'd rather tune up my bike or something."

She leaned in, eyes wide. "But it's Darius's circle. His best friend Luca's throwing it. All the wolves will be there, showing off. If you're gonna make a statement, why not there? Come on, Raven. It'll be fun. I'll be your wingwoman or whatever."

I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. Darius's circle? Perfect chance to poke the bear again. See how he squirmed in front of his pack. "You know what? Yeah. I'm in. But if it sucks, you're buying me coffee tomorrow."

Samantha clapped her hands. "Deal! Wear the uniform. it's kinda required for these things. Makes it ironic or something."

By evening, we were dolled up in those stupid blazers and skirts. Sam looked cute and put-together, me with my boots and a scowl to match. The frat house was a massive log cabin deal, lights strung up, bass thumping from inside.

Expensive cars lined the drive and music spilled out, mixed with laughter and howls that weren't just for show.

We pushed through the door, and it hit me: there're wolves everywhere. The guys were posturing, girls giggling, and drinks flowing. The air was thick with sweat and whatever shifter pheromones they put out. Sam grabbed us cups of punch spiked, I hoped and we stuck to the edges, watching.

It didn't take long for trouble to come seeking me out. Darius was in the center, holding court with his crew, a blonde on his arm. He spotted me across the room, his eyes locking on like a missile. The blonde noticed, pouting, but he shrugged her off and started weaving through the crowd toward me.

"Raven Casmir," he said, voice low and mocking when he got close. His breath smelled like whiskey. "Didn't expect you'd show your face so soon. Come to grovel?"

I set my cup down on a side table, facing him square. Samantha hovered behind me, tense. The music dipped, people turning our way. "Grovel? For you? Dream on, Darius. I came to see if this party's as lame as you are. Spoiler: it is."

His friends chuckled nervously, but he didn't laugh. He stepped closer, towering over me. "You got a mouth on you. But mouths get shut around here. What's your angle, huh? Scholarship trash thinking she can play with the big dogs?"

The crowd murmured as they brought out there phones ones out again. My blood heated, thinking of Asteria, of Kira. "Angle? You're seriously out of your mind, wolf boy."

Darius's face darkened, surprise flickering before anger took over. "You think you can waltz in here and insult me?"

I grabbed a drink from a passing tray. It was some red concoction and I held it up, inches from his chest. Our glares clashed, the room fading. The tension was thick, electric, like one wrong move and it'd snap. Dangerous? Yeah, but I thrived on it.

"Insult? Nah. I'm just getting started. Touch me, and you'll regret it more than you regret being born."

The party buzzed, but no one breathed. Then, quick as a flash, I flung the drink right past his shoulder, splashing the wall behind him. Red liquid dripped down, inches from his ear. "Your move, wolf boy. Strike back if you've got the balls."

For a heartbeat his eyes flashed like a flint of animal under the surface. A low sound rolled in his throat, the kind that belonged in dark woods, not frat houses. He didn’t shift; he held himself like a man holding a blade. That kind of control is worse than teeth.