You're acting like I'm the monster under your bed.
Aria’s POV
The dorm door slammed shut behind me, but the echo of their laughter followed me in—like a shadow that wouldn’t let go.
I stood there, frozen in the center of my room, rain still clinging to my hoodie, my cheek throbbing from Liana’s slap, and my heart—
Shattered.
The room was silent. Too silent. It felt like the kind of silence that mocks you. Like even the air was holding its breath to see if I’d break.
And I did.
I fell to my knees.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t quiet. I collapsed like something inside me had finally given up holding it all in.
A sob tore out of me, raw and strangled, followed by another—and another.
I pressed both hands to my face, like maybe if I could hide from myself, I could pretend this wasn’t happening. That I wasn’t here. That I hadn’t just been humiliated. Laughed at. Threatened.
That I wasn’t the stray. The cursed one. The girl who didn’t belong.
I curled into the floor, my body trembling as silent sobs wrecked through me. My hoodie was soaked, clinging to my arms, my chest. My skin felt too tight, like my bones didn’t fit inside anymore. Like everything was wrong.
They hated me.
All of them.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t have a powerful bloodline. I didn’t come from prestige or legacy. I wasn’t strong or clever or dangerous.
I was nothing.
And they saw it.
Cassian’s words echoed in my skull like knives:
“You’re Aria, right? The cursed mutt the Council dumped here like garbage.”
Garbage.
That’s all I was to them. Something the world forgot to throw away.
I bit down hard on my fist, trying to stop the cries from escaping. But they came anyway, muffled and frantic. I didn’t even recognize the sound of my own voice.
I thought I’d known pain before.
But this?
This was a different kind of hurt. A soul-level fracture. The kind that didn’t bleed on the outside but screamed inside your chest.
I hated this place. I hated them. I hated the way they made me feel small, disposable, like I wasn’t worth the air I breathed.
Why are you even here, Aria?
The question burned through me.
Because the Council sent me.
Because they didn’t care what happened to me.
Because they thought this place would either break me… or bury me.
And maybe they were right.
But deep beneath the despair—under the tears and the trembling and the shame—something else stirred.
A flicker.
A low growl in my chest. Familiar now. Closer than before.
My wolf.
Not roaring. Not wild.
But there.
She wasn’t broken.
And if she wasn’t broken, maybe I didn’t have to be either.
But gods, it hurt.
I pulled myself off the floor, barely, and stumbled to the mirror. My face was pale, tear-streaked, red from the slap. My lip was swollen. My eyes were hollow.
But I stared at myself.
Forced myself to look.
“You can’t cry every time they try to break you,” I whispered, voice cracked and hoarse. “You won’t survive.”
I wiped my cheek with my sleeve.
Then again. Harder.
“I won’t give them the satisfaction,” I said, this time with more force. “I won’t let them win.”
Even if I had to fake every breath.
Even if I had to stitch every broken piece of myself together with nothing but stubbornness and spit.
I was still here.
And maybe that was something.
Maybe that meant they hadn’t won yet.
The morning air was bitter.
Sleep had never come. Not after the night before. Not after Cassian Blackthorn and his pretty, poisonous girl made me feel like nothing—again.
I’d spent hours curled in my dorm bathroom, hands clutched over my chest, tears burning down my cheeks until they couldn’t fall anymore. I hadn’t even had the strength to scream.
Now, walking through the early courtyard before classes, my limbs felt hollow. My eyes ached. I was drained, and the bruise on my cheek throbbed with every breath.
Bloodrose Academy was quiet at this hour—eerie, like it was holding its breath.
And then I saw him.
Leaning against a frost-coated pillar just beyond the east wing.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
He stood like a shadow cut from the world, darker than the morning mist curling around him. His coat was black leather, worn open to reveal a fitted dark shirt underneath, tattoos creeping up his throat and disappearing beneath his jaw. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, but his posture said one thing:
Predator.
My steps faltered.
I shouldn’t be afraid.
But my instincts screamed otherwise.
He turned his head slowly, gaze locking with mine.
And I froze.
His eyes weren’t silver like Zayne’s or thundercloud gray like Rylan’s. Killian Blackthorn’s eyes were black—bottomless. Like something had clawed out all the light inside him long ago.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t move.
Just stared at me like he was already bored—and yet… curious.
I swallowed, but my throat was dry. “You’re… You’re Killian.”
It wasn’t a question. Everyone knew the stories.
The ghost prince of the Blackthorn family. The Alpha who had his own pack—his own territory. The one who never came to the Academy. The one even the Council couldn’t control.
They said he was a myth.
They were wrong.
“You recognize me,” he murmured, finally stepping forward.
One step.
My feet moved back before I could stop them.
Another step.
He followed.
I backed up again—my spine brushing cold stone.
His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Careful now, stray. You're acting like I'm the monster under your bed.”
I opened my mouth to say something—but nothing came out. My heart was slamming against my ribs. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.
He was too close.
Too still.
Too... much.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes tracing the bruises on my cheek, the puffiness beneath my lashes.
“You look like you’ve been crying,” he said, voice soft but merciless.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He snorted. “No, you're not. But lying about it? Cute.”
His gaze dropped lower. “Did one of my brothers do that?”
I didn’t answer.
Did it matter?
He didn’t press.
Instead, he straightened to his full height, towering over me. “So you're the cursed one the Council dumped here.”
My lips parted. “Is that what they call me?”
“No.” His grin deepened. “That’s what I call you.”
I blinked hard, my vision blurring for a second.
He tilted his head, watching me like he was dissecting something broken.
“Tell me, Aria,” he said quietly. “Do you enjoy bleeding? Or are you just that stupid?”
I flinched, the words slicing deeper than I’d expected. My pride was already paper-thin.
He chuckled, cruel and slow. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Bloodrose eats the weak.”
“Then maybe it’s time someone choked on it,” I snapped, more out of pain than courage.
That got his attention.
His eyes lit with something I couldn’t name. Something sharp. Dangerous.
He took another step forward—and I took another back—but there was nowhere to go.
“You have a mouth,” he murmured. “A reckless one. And you’ve already drawn Rylan’s attention.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“No one does.” His voice was a shadow. “Especially from him.”
He looked me over like he was seeing past everything I wore, everything I was.
And for a moment, something flickered in his expression—something darker than rage. Loneliness, maybe. Or hunger.
But then it vanished.
He took a step back, finally giving me space to breathe.
“Try to stay out of my way,” he said casually, like a warning disguised as advice. “I’m not one of your storybook mates.”
I blinked. “What?”
He paused mid-turn, eyes narrowing. “You think this place will give you a happy ending? That one of us is your fated prince?”
His laugh was low and hollow. “You’re not the kind of girl that gets a fairytale, Aria.”
Then he was gone—vanishing into the early morning mist like he’d never been there at all.
But I felt it.
He was watching me now.
And unlike the others… Killian Blackthorn didn’t forget.
Later that day…
The day crawled by in a fog. I sat in classes, too tired to focus, too hollow to care. Every bruise ached. Every voice around me blurred.
I kept my head down.
It was safer that way.
The whispers never stopped.
"Freak."
"Stray."
"Did you see her crying again?"
I couldn’t even tell where the voices came from anymore. I just felt them — clawing, digging.
By the time the last bell rang, I practically bolted from the classroom.
But the Academy never really let you breathe. The corridors were stone and shadow. The air, thick with power and scent — wolves, dominance, and something darker. Something worse.
I turned a corner… and collided with a solid chest.
I stumbled back. A hand shot out — not to help me, but to shove me against the wall.
“Watch it, bitch,” the boy hissed. “Think you can just run around like you matter?”
It was one of the older students — Gavin. A Beta. Big. Mean. Smelled like cheap arrogance and stale blood.
“I—” I tried, breath catching. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah? So was your whole pathetic life.”
He pressed closer. I tried to twist away, but his arm slammed beside my head. Blocking me in.
“Maybe Rylan didn’t hit you hard enough earlier,” he sneered. “Someone needs to teach you what your place really is.”
My blood turned to ice.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Controlled.
And then… silence.
I felt it before I saw him.
Killian Blackthorn.
The corridor shifted around his presence — like gravity bowed to him. The few students nearby instantly stilled. One even turned and bolted the other direction.
He didn’t raise his voice.
Didn’t snarl.
Didn’t ask questions.
He just walked right up and grabbed Gavin by the back of the neck.
“What the fu—” Gavin started to say.
CRACK.
Killian slammed his head into the wall.
Hard.
Blood sprayed across the stone.
Gavin cried out, legs buckling.
“Killian—Alpha—” he sputtered.
Killian didn’t stop. He drove him down to the floor with the weight of a predator, straddling him with the ease of someone used to violence.
Fist after fist connected with Gavin’s face. The sound of it — brutal, wet, final.
“I didn’t give you permission,” Killian said quietly, between hits. “To touch. What’s mine.”
Gavin choked on his own blood. “She—she’s just a—”
CRACK.
Another punch. A tooth flew.
Killian leaned down, grabbing his face. “Speak again. I dare you.”
Gavin whimpered.
I stood frozen against the wall, chest heaving.
Mine?
Killian rose slowly, dragging Gavin’s limp body up by the collar. Then shoved him to the floor like garbage.
The corridor was deathly silent.
Killian turned to me.
His black eyes weren’t warm. Or soft. Or protective.
They were possessive. And furious.
And they were on me.
He stepped forward. I shrank back instinctively.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” he demanded, voice low, sharp.
“I—he was bigger—” I tried.
“So?” He towered over me now. “You wait around for someone to save you?”
I looked down, ashamed. My fingers trembled. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you needed me.”
He leaned in closer, voice a growl against my skin. “Don’t let them touch you again. That privilege is mine.”
My heart skipped. “W-what?”
He tilted his head. “You don’t get it yet, do you?”
“I don’t want—”
“It’s not about what you want.” His voice was final. Dark. Twisted. “You caught my attention. That means something.”
I wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Beg him to leave me alone.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t look away.
Killian stepped even closer.
“You defied Rylan. You cried in front of Cassian. You walk around here bleeding and bruised like a wounded animal, thinking no one’s watching?”
He raised a hand. For a moment, I flinched—
But all he did was brush a finger down my jaw, barely touching the bruise there.
“They’ll keep coming for you,” he said softly. “Because you look breakable.”
Then his smile turned cruel.
“But only I get to break you.”
He turned and walked away like nothing happened.
Leaving me in the hallway…
Shaking.
Confused.
Terrified.
And marked.
Because now I knew—
Killian Blackthorn had claimed me.
Not out of love.
Not even lust.
But because he could.