Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It began with a desire—not the noble kind spoken of in prayers or whispered beneath the stars, but something simpler. A longing to stay close to those who had once saved them, to the scent that had once felt like home.

Compassion that neither of them had believed existed pulled them back from the edge of collapse. An act of mercy carried them through lifetimes they were never meant to endure. But the cycle never broke, each rebirth left deeper cracks, and the cost of their bond grew heavier with every return.

The superiors called them anomalies—souls that refused to forget, that carried memory across lifetimes when all others started clean. Their gifts with bond resonance and mark alignment made them too useful to discard, but too unpredictable to trust.

The Soul Mark Program was their act of defiance. It aimed to connect destined souls before instinct and hierarchy could destroy them. The goal was to balance a species on the brink of love and destruction. But not everyone saw it that way. The old guard called it blasphemy—an insult to the Moon Mother’s natural law, a way of meddling with fates that were never theirs to touch.

The library stretched, its walls lined with glass panels instead of bookshelves. Each one glowed with streams of data—bond signatures, resonance patterns, energy histories. A thousand threads of light drifted overhead, pulsing in rhythm with mortal hearts below.

Soren sat before a wide monitor, its light washing pale across his face. Two threads—one gold, one blue—spiraled across the screen, always circling, never touching. He reached out, his fingers hovering just above the glass. “They were so close last time,” he murmured.

Lyric leaned against a pillar, hair falling into his eyes. “Close doesn’t count, it never has.” His voice carried a quiet ache. “How many times have we watched them destroy themselves because fate paired them wrong?”

Chaos entered then, the sound of his boots echoing against the floor. “You two are still obsessing over that pair?” His golden eyes flicked to the monitor. “They don’t even know you exist.”

Soren’s jaw tightened. “They did once.”

He paused, voice dropping to a whisper. “They tried to keep us alive. Stayed with us until the end.” A faint smile touched his lips, grief tangled at the edges. “They saved us, though we didn’t make it; we only lasted long enough for their scents to imprint in our minds—engraved, like the memory of home. After that, my brother and I just couldn’t pass on.” 

Lyric’s gaze flickered toward Chaos, his voice softening. “But you don’t forget a debt like that, never.”

Chaos’s smirk faltered, “You think gratitude gives you the right to rewrite their destinies?”

Soren said, his eyes reflecting the screen’s glow, “We’re not rewriting them.” “Just giving them a fair start, every life they’ve lived, they’ve found the wrong person—people who broke them before they ever learned what love could be. We changed that.”

Lyric smiled faintly, pushing off the pillar. “We didn’t wait for fate this time. We marked them ourselves.”

Chaos stared, disbelief flickering into alarm. “You did what?”

Soren tapped a key, and the monitor flared brighter. The two threads collided, intertwining until they pulsed as one. “We matched their soul frequencies. The mark will appear when their paths cross again.”

Lyric’s voice was almost reverent. “They’ll feel it instantly. The pull, the recognition—it’ll be impossible to ignore.”

Chaos ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “You’ve both lost your minds. If the superiors find out you tampered with mortal pairings again, they’ll erase you. Completely.”

Soren’s expression didn’t waver. “Then let them.” We owe those two our lives. If this mark provides them with the chance they have been denied for centuries, then the risk is worth it.

Lyric leaned beside him, eyes glowing faintly in the monitor’s reflection. “We’re not trying to play gods, Chaos. We’re just trying to return the favor.”

For a moment, the room held only the hum of the monitors and the shimmer of light weaving across the glass. Then Chaos sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “You two are impossible, but fine, I’ll cover the traces. But if this backfires—”

Soren gave a quiet smile. “Then we burn together.”

The threads on the screen pulsed once—gold and blue intertwined—and vanished into the network of light. Somewhere far below, in the mortal world, the mark would soon bloom beneath the skin of two strangers who had never truly been strangers at all.

Chapter Text

Veyloris Academy felt like stepping into the wrong century.

Its buildings jutted skyward in jagged spires, with glassless windows yawning beneath ancient stone arches. Ivy clung to the stone, like nature hadn't decided whether to strangle the place or reclaim it. Wolves weren't meant to live in cages, Luka had always believed that, but apparently, they could be taught to build beautiful ones.

The iron gate bore the same sign it had since the academy's founding: Veyloris Academy of Instinct and Bonding. The words hung in tarnished gold, corners chipped and worn by time. Beneath it, in fresh marker, some bright-eyed Omega had scrawled: Prepare to be bitten.

Luka leaned his shoulder against the nearest column, trying to ignore the prickling of instincts under his skin. His mom had dropped him off earlier with her usual mix of worry and pride.

"Don't back down from a fight if you're ever tested, my boy. You're an Alpha, as gentle as a deer. Stand firm. Watch over your sister. Be there for each other."

He'd hugged her fast, smiled out of habit, and grabbed his things without looking back when the car door clicked shut.

Across the courtyard, students milled beneath banners fluttering from black iron poles.

Alphas moved with practiced ease, walking like nothing dared stand in their way — because nothing did. Heads high, shoulders squared, voices low and full of teeth even when they smiled. Wherever they passed, the crowd made way to accommodate them without needing to be told.

Betas hovered just behind, moving in quiet patterns. Light on their feet, sharp with attention, they rarely held eye contact unless it served them, rarely lingered in conversation longer than necessary. Always listening. Always calculating. They slipped between groups like threads pulling a loom tight, weaving alliances that might keep them safe when things inevitably turned bloody.

The Omegas stayed close to walls, to shadows, to the safety of courtyard edges. Some moved in small packs, postures hunched, movements careful. Others walked alone, heads high, scents overpowering, and relying on bloodline and reputation to protect them more than instinct ever would.

Luka didn't bother keeping track anymore.

It all smelled the same in the end: old money, old pride, and instincts dressed up as civility.

Hierarchy ran beneath every conversation like a second heartbeat. Who belonged where. Who would rise? Who would be snapped in half for overstepping? The rules never changed, only the names did.

He kept his hands in his pockets, head down, letting the noise pass him by.

Near an alcove, two Betas leaned in close, voices pitched for gossip but not secrecy.

"You hear about those markings showing up again?"

"They're spreading. My brother's Omega got marked. Right before their bonding ceremony, too."

Another voice groaned from where someone lounged atop a wall. "Who even cares? Just another excuse to throw instincts out the window."

"Careful," the younger Beta warned. "Say that louder and see how fast you're dropped to the bottom before the next run."

Luka exhaled slowly. The soft chime of his phone pulled his attention away from the chatter. A glance at the screen showed a message from his sister, Juleka.

[ Juleka: Where are you? I've been looking for you. Come show me around before I get lost.]

Typical. She'd barely set foot on campus and already wanted him to play guide. He slid the phone back into his pocket. She'd be fine for a minute; he just needed to clear his head first.

The sound of heels clicking against stone interrupted the steady hum of conversation. Laughter followed, light and practiced, drifting through the air.

Luka caught the scent a moment before he saw her honey and roses, muted beneath the chemical tang of scent blockers.

His gaze flicked sideways, brief and disinterested. Just long enough to confirm what instinct already knew.

Chloe Bourgeois wore the academy uniform like it was a technicality. The rebellion lay in the bright yellow heels clicking too loudly on the stone path. Around her, a small entourage orbited, each carrying something for her: a bag, a jacket, an untouched coffee cup. Accessories to her presence, more than people.

Chloe's soft blue eyes never lifted from her nails, admiring their shine more than the groaning voices trailing behind her.

"Sabrina," she said, voice clipped and cool, "make sure you don't get us lost. It's the first day, and Daddy expects me for lunch. I'll need time to change."

Her words dropped like commands to an appliance, not a person. Sabrina, bright orange hair pulled tight beneath glasses too large for her narrow face, nodded quickly. Too eager. Too desperate to please.

Luka stayed where he was, unmoved. Even after a year on this campus, Luka still didn't know whether to be annoyed or just tired of it.

Murmurs stirred in Chloe's wake.

"That must be the Bourgeois girl. I heard she was coming, but I didn't think she'd actually show up."

"I can't believe that stuck-up princess is here. Seriously hope this place knocks her down a few pegs. She's still an Omega after all." A girl muttered, juggling books against her chest.

The boy beside her sighed like he'd been waiting to chime in. "This school's for every rank, right? Maybe even she's a misfit beneath all that bravado."

Another snorted. "Did you see the entourage? Please. She's already planning to crown herself queen. Watch."

He'd heard of her. But even now, behind the heels and hair flips, there was something tight in the way she walked. Like she was performing for someone who'd never clap.

He narrowed his eyes in the direction she'd gone, catching the lingering scent before brushing it away like a bothersome fly.

"I'd better find my room number before I waste any more time."

He hoisted his duffel bag and guitar case, glancing at the campus map to locate the dorms.

The male dormitory loomed ahead, less ornate than the main buildings but no less imposing. Iron railings lined its steps, the dark stone worn smooth by generations of restless feet. Luka adjusted his grip on his duffel and gaiter case, eyes narrowing at the sleek black limousine parked out front.

It was too long for these cramped academy drives. Whoever brought it had taken the service road instead of the long, winding path reserved for deliveries, faculty, or the kind of family who didn't want their business aired among the lesser ranks.

The driver moved with the kind of efficiency that came from long years of service, opening the rear door in a single practiced motion.

A blond boy stepped out. Young, tall, and pale, with hair the color of late-summer wheat and eyes like the deep green of a forest after rain. There was something startlingly hollow about his face — a loneliness etched too deep for someone his age to carry.

Luka's brow lifted, gaze flicking next to the man who emerged beside him. Older. Sharply cut in both suit and bearing. An Alpha through and through, his dominance palpable even beneath the suffocating sheen of civility. His gloves were pristine, his tie perfectly centered, and his expression suggested the air itself might offend him if he let it close enough.

Luka recognized him by reputation alone. Gabriel Agreste.

The man didn't look at his son so much as through him. His words came clipped, measured, honed sharp like every stitch of his tailored life.

"Adrien, I expect you to conduct yourself with discipline. Do not embarrass the Agreste family. You are here to learn how to behave as a proper Alpha and, ideally, secure a mate before returning home to assist with the company."

The boy, Adrien, as Luka gathered, said nothing for a breath too long. When his reply came, it was soft, controlled, and clearly practiced.

"Yes, Father," he said.

Luka blinked. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more—the words, or how natural they sounded coming from someone so carefully polite.

Frowning, Luka adjusted his bags and stepped forward, moving past the two Alphas without a word.

For the briefest moment, his gaze met Adrien's.

A flicker of understanding passed between them. Luka didn't know what it meant yet, but he recognized the strain behind a polite smile shaped by years of silence.

He kept walking without looking back. The door to the dormitory clicked shut behind him.

The dorm halls were worse than he expected. Too many people, too much noise. Voices bounced off the narrow walls, layered with laughter, arguments, introductions, and the sound of someone dragging something heavy down the stairs. Scent hung thick in the air, tangled and overwhelming — deodorant and body wash clashing with the stench of dominance and nerves. Luka had to grit his teeth against the instinct rising beneath his skin.

He found his room number tucked near the far end of the hall. The door was already cracked open, the inside being a lot better.

The shared space stretched wider than he thought — a narrow kitchen pressed against one wall, a small living room arranged with sagging couches and a dusty table that had seen better decades. Several closed doors lined the walls. Private rooms, maybe. At least whoever designed the place had thought ahead.

One door hung open at the far end. Luka stepped inside. Two beds, two desks. One window overlooking a brick wall and a crooked fire escape. He let out a slow breath.

He claimed the bed tucked furthest into the corner, dropping his duffel bags and guitar case with a soft thump. Sitting on the edge, he exhaled heavily, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

It wasn't home, but it was enough. Ten minutes later, the door creaked open.

Luka didn't have to look to know who it was. The scent gave it away. Adrien, the polite Alpha with the heavy scent of restraint, stood in the doorway with an uncertain smile.

"Hey," Adrien said, lifting a hand.

Luka returned the gesture with a small nod. "Hey."

The space between them was filled with silence. Luka pushed up on one elbow, brushing hair from his face.

"Long day?" he asked, voice soft.

Adrien looked surprised by the question, then gave a half-laugh. "Yeah. Weird one."

Luka offered a small smile. "It's that kind of place."

He leaned back against the headboard. "You can take the other bed if you want. I don't snore, promise."

"Thanks," Adrien said, already placing his belongings on his bed.

Luka closed his eyes again, letting the room settle. His mind blurred at the edges as he drifted off, half-aware of the sounds around him—the cheers and laughter of other students echoing through the halls as they searched for their rooms. Even from here, he could make out Chloe's high-pitched voice, yelling at Sabrina to hurry with her things.

Raised voices spilled into the room, too loud to ignore.
A heavy slam rattled the table.

"Still not cool, man. Not cool!" one of them said.

"I'm sorry! I don't know, man, it's not my fault," Adrien said.

"Your father is literally insane," another boy added. I can't believe he said that about my mom's fabrics. Her shop is on the line. You know that, right?"

Luka groaned as he pushed himself up from the bed.

He stepped into the common room and found Adrien standing stiff by the couch, hands half-raised, like he wanted to explain but couldn't figure out how to start.

The other boy, dark skin, glasses slipping down his nose, headphones hanging around his neck, had a backpack slung over one shoulder, while the other hand gripped Adrien's collar.

Neither of them noticed Luka at first.

"I didn't ask him to say any of that," Adrien said. His voice edged toward apologetic, but mostly sounded tired. "I didn't even know he had met your mom today, and I don't know if you've noticed, but I have no control over my father."

"Well, he did," the other boy snapped. "And it's not my fault either, but guess who's gonna take the hit when this circles back to my family? If your dad didn't want my mom's designs, he should've left her alone."

Luka paused in the doorway. He wasn't sure if stepping in would help or make it worse, his eyes still on the scene in front of him.

Adrien made eye contact with him and cleared his throat. "Uh. Luka... meet our angry new roommate."

Nino sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah. Whatever. Sorry, man. Long day, names Nino."

Luka raised a brow. "Clearly."

Adrien gave him a look that almost passed for gratitude.

"Screw it," Nino muttered, then dropped onto the couch. He scanned the room. "Anyone seen the remote?"

"I'll help you look for it," Adrien said, already lifting a cushion.

Nino watched him for a second. "So... what's your story, man?"

Adrien blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, your dad's Gabriel Agreste, right? So why would one of the most famous people in Paris send his kid here?"

The question sat between them.

Adrien found the remote and tossed it onto the couch. "Same reason as you, I guess."

Nino shrugged. "Fair." He turned on the TV and flipped through channels. "There's gotta be something decent on."

His attention drifted to the tall kid still standing by the door with his suitcases.

"Hey, new guy. What's your name?"

"Ivan," the Alpha said. Voice steady, not much emotion behind it.

Nino nodded. "Cool. You can take any of the open rooms. I've got the one on the right. There's a spare bed if you wanna share, or just grab your own."

"Alright." Ivan moved off without another word, disappearing through one of the doors.

Nino kicked back on the couch like it was already his. "At least it's the weekend. Classes don't start till tomorrow."

Adrien slumped into the chair across from him. "Yeah. Me too."

Luka didn't say anything at first. He just sat on the couch, watching whatever forgettable show Nino had landed on.

After a minute, he asked, "You guys into movies or something?"

Nino shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Adrien perked up a little. "Actually, I brought snacks. I can get some popcorn started if you want."

"Sweet," Nino said, already looking more relaxed. He raised his voice toward the open door down the hall. "Hey, Ivan! We're gonna start a movie."

A pause, then Ivan called back, "Alright. I'll join you guys in a sec."

"Nice," Nino echoed with a grin, giving Luka a look like, See? This might not suck after all.

Luka leaned back against the couch, the rhythm of their voices blending into background noise like static between tracks.

Maybe his mom was right. Perhaps he could figure this out. One day at a time.

Chapter Text

The first morning of classes arrived with the sounds of shuffled footsteps, hissing showers, and the unpleasant odor of too many bodies crammed into one space; sweat and damp laundry, one had applied their scent patches, so the air was thick with wolf musk. The strong scent evoked a mix of emotions, including feelings of dominance, nervousness, and exhaustion.

Luka sat at the kitchen table, leaning over a bowl of cereal. His uniform fit well, featuring a grey jacket and slacks, a black undershirt, and shiny silver details that glowed softly in the morning light, brightening the day ahead.

The academy's insignia was stitched over the chest pocket, with silver thread glinting under the overhead lights. It featured a crescent moon cradling the silhouette of a wolf, framed by the graceful curve of a single bloom.

For a place designed to hone abilities and establish hierarchy, the school had a surprisingly poetic taste in logos.

In the living room, Adrien was still passed out on the couch, one arm dramatically flopped over his face as if sleep had conquered him in the middle of a silent protest. "Hey, we need to get ready for class."

Nino's hand smacked lazily across Adrien's shoulder, earning no response beyond a muffled groan.

"Dude, I had no idea you were such a heavy sleeper." Nino rolled his eyes and headed back to his room, with drawers slamming behind him.

The bathroom door was cracked open just enough for Luka to catch a glimpse of Ivan standing in front of the mirror. He was adjusting his cap with quiet determination, tilting it this way and that like the angle somehow mattered more than the fact he looked ready to bodycheck half the school if someone asked.

Luka ate more cereal, noting the surprisingly well-stocked fridge filled with snacks and perishables. It likely wouldn't last the week with this crew. He stood up, stretching his arms overhead until he heard his back crack. Across the room, Adrien managed to sit up, his hair a mess, his shirt rumpled, and his eyes still half-closed. "Coffee?" Adrien asked, his voice hoarse.

"In the fridge," Luka replied, pointing without looking.

Nino stepped out wearing the academy's uniform, still adjusting the cuffs and with his tie already halfway undone. "Man, mornings are really not my thing. What's first on your schedule?"

"Instinct Management," Luka replied, glancing at the thin slip of paper he had pulled from his bag the night before. "Then it's Bonding Theory. After lunch, we have Pack History and Survival Studies."

"Lucky," Nino groaned. "I have Scent Identification first thing. They mentioned something about a 'live exercise,' and honestly, that sounds like a nightmare waiting to happen."

Ivan wandered out of the bathroom, his cap finally sitting just right. "I have Combat Readiness first, then Tracking and Territory Law." His voice was steady, but Luka noticed the slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Adrien sighed, "Looks like I have the same classes as Luka. I'll be shadowing you today."

"Awesome, at least I know someone," Luka said with a smile.

Nino grabbed his bag and said, "Let's meet back here later—if I survive Scent Identification."

Adrien chuckled softly to himself as he finally picked up his coffee. Ivan gave a slight nod and headed for the door, his hands shoved in his pockets. Luka lingered for a moment, watching as they all went their separate ways, as he turned on his heel.

The bell rang sharply through the halls, signaling the start of the first period. Luka filed in with the other students, settling into a room that resembled a lecture hall more than any classroom he had known. The subject was Instinct Management.

The teacher, a lean Beta with cold steel-colored eyes, paced in front of a whiteboard filled with diagrams of brain chemistry and charts of animal behavior.

"Instinct," she began without any preamble, "isn't just something you control. It's something you negotiate with."

Her voice droned on, but Luka's mind began to wander—back to nothing in particular, random thoughts playing in his mind as he tapped his fingers on the desk. He glanced to his side and saw Adrien diligently taking notes, which made him grin before he started jotting down his own thoughts. One class blurred into the next.

The Pack History dragged on much longer than any class should have. Still, he smiled through it all, enjoying the company of his friends around him.

By the end of the day, the students left the building in small groups, parting ways without needing to say goodbye. Nino slouched off toward the gym, already putting his headphones back in place. Ivan disappeared down a service stairwell, probably in search of a quieter place.

Adrien lingered for a moment beside Luka before shrugging, polite but distant. "See you back at the dorm, I guess," he said.

Luka responded with a nonchalant nod as he watched Adrien walk away across the courtyard. One day was down, and many more awaited him

He had been lost in thought when he bumped into the professor. His mind was still racing over the day's lessons, already dreading how much more challenging the year might become.

"You look like someone who is already regretting their enrollment," the professor remarked with a dry smile.

Luka shrugged slightly. "I guess we'll see."

Before the professor could respond, Luka's attention was captured by raised voices coming from across the hall. A flash of blonde caught his eye, yellow heels clicking in sharp rhythm across the polished floor. Chloé Bourgeois was as loud as ever.

Her fist was knotted in an Alpha's collar, her glare sharp enough to cut. "Keep your scent in check," she warned.

The Alpha sneered back. "Not my fault, princess. Your scent is practically begging for attention."

Chloé regarded him coolly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, please. Go take a silver bullet. I've met omegas with more dominance than you."

She threw her head back and let out a sharp, ringing laugh, the kind that dared anyone nearby to take his side. A few nearby students turned to look, some smirking while others stared wide-eyed.

The Alpha's control broke. A low, primal growl rumbled from his throat, rattling the air between them. A man in a black uniform, clean-cut and sharp-eyed, stepped between them. "Miss, please step away. Omegas are not permitted to cause scenes on campus grounds."

Chloé looked him over, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every flaw she could later exploit. "And who exactly do you think you are, speaking to me like that? Do you not know who I am?"

The murmurs started immediately, rippling through the gathered students like a current catching on every ear.

"An Omega can't talk like that," someone whispered, half in shock, half in fascination.

"Doesn't she know her place?" another voice hissed, laced with disbelief.

A third scoffed, louder than the rest. "What's wrong with her?"

Luka didn't have to check to know it came from various students nearby.

The guard frowned, crossing his arms. "Ma'am, I know who you are. But here, you have no authority."

Chloé scoffed, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "We'll see how long that lasts. My father's money has a way of fixing everything." With a snap of her fingers, she turned on her heel. "Sabrina, come." Her shadow of a friend scrambled after her, tossing a glare over her shoulder at the Alpha. "Watch where you're going, buddy."

As they walked away, the air crackled with the aftermath of her defiance. The students watched, caught between admiration and disbelief, while the Alpha fumed, frustration boiling just beneath the surface.

The professor next to Luka sighed as if this were not surprising at all. "Only the second day, and Miss Bourgeois is already causing trouble."

Luka observed them as they disappeared down the hall, his expression unreadable. "It doesn't seem like she plans to stop anytime soon."

The professor nodded, clearly resigned. "Welcome to Veyloris."

Luka kept his gaze on the hallway long after Chloé and her entourage had vanished. The murmurs faded, leaving only the echo of her heels and the lingering tension in the air. The professor beside him remained still, observing the situation with the air of someone who was far too accustomed to such displays.

Luka shifted his stance and glanced sideways. "Can I ask you something?"

The professor turned his attention back to him, showing a flicker of mild surprise. "Of course."

"How's an Omega supposed to act in this situation? Did I miss some kind of guide, or is everyone just expected to stick to whatever's been set in stone?"

The professor let out a breath that might have been amusement, though it didn't reach his eyes. "In a way, yes. Omegas are considered the foundation of the hierarchy. They are seen as submissive by nature and are meant to support rather than challenge. Their presence keeps tempers in check, softens aggression, and helps maintain balance among Alphas who are less inclined to show restraint."

Luka's teal eyes flickered faintly in the hall light — steady, thoughtful, the kind of gaze that listened even when it disagreed. "Don't you think that's... I don't know, unfair? Especially in a world like this? In today's society?"

The professor paused, his gaze sharpening as he assessed Luka with an understanding look. "Unfair or not, that's how it has always been with our kind. These traditions are older than most of the families walking these halls. They don't disappear just because someone points out how inconvenient they are."

He glanced at his watch, his expression tightening gradually. "Much like these soul markings. You've heard of them, I assume?"

Luka's brow lifted in curiosity. "Soul markings?"

"If you look it up, you'll find it everywhere: reports, speculation, and debate. Markings are appearing without choice, and bonds are forming outside of tradition. Some say it's a sign that our world is changing, while others see it as dangerous."

A voice joined them from behind.

"Instructor Von, still scaring first-years into submission?"

The professor sighed. "Instructor Hale."

Hale stepped into Luka's view, his Veyloris badge slightly askew and his tone more conversational than the professor's clipped style. "Don't mind him. He means well, but he forgets how outdated some of these ideas sound when said out loud."

Professor Von folded his arms. "What part of the pack structure do you find outdated today, Hale?"

"The part where a moon-chosen bond is treated like an accident," Hale said, turning to Luka. "Soul markings aren't dangerous; they're necessary. They're fate's way of guiding us to the ones we're meant for, not out of instinct, or convenience, but because the moon deemed that person worthy."

He then looked back at Von, shaking his head slightly. "What could be more amazing than that?"

Von didn't respond immediately. He gazed at Hale with the weary patience of someone who had heard this too many times before. His gaze remained steady, and his voice was flat as he replied, "That kind of thinking gets people hurt."

Hale didn't waver; he smiled. "Pretending that the old ways still work is just as ineffective."

Von straightened his jacket, clearly prepared to move on. "Change doesn't happen overnight. Not for wolves, not for packs, and certainly not for the hierarchy. That's what has kept us alive this long, whether we like it or not."

He glanced at Luka one last time. "I have another lecture to start. I'll see you around, young man. Be sure to review today's material, it's more relevant than you think." With that, he walked away, his footsteps hurried as if he wanted to put some distance between himself and the burden of Luka's questions.

Hale observed him leave before turning back to Luka. "Feel free to ask more questions, just try not to do it in front of Professor Von," Hale said, watching the professor disappear down the corridor before returning his attention to Luka. "I teach Pack Behavioral Systems in Room 217. If you seek genuine answers, the kind that aren't encumbered by warnings and tradition, feel free to stop by."

Luka's gaze lingered on him for a moment. Hale had silver hair pulled back neatly, though a few strands had slipped loose, and his brown eyes were unreadable. He did not smell of deception; he lacked the sour tang Luka had learned to associate with liars.

"I think I'll take you up on that. I'd like to have more conversations about soul markings."

Hale's face brightened, and he laughed, the sound echoing around the halls, the vibrations dancing across the air. Luka raised a brow, smiling back at the unexpected warmth.

"I'm glad to hear that," Hale replied. "I'll gladly offer any guidance I can."

They stood in silence for a moment, the heavy quiet stretching between them as campus life buzzed around, laughter, rustling leaves, and the shuffle of students.

Hale nodded once, then turned and walked away, his footsteps merging into the lively backdrop.

Luka remained still, letting the atmosphere settle. His hand brushed against the edge of his pocket, fingers grazing the wire of his headphones. He lingered for a moment, lost in thought, the vibrant world around him fading to a blur.

Chapter Text

Chloé stormed down the hall, her presence loud enough without the echo of designer heels on stone. Sabrina trailed behind, arms stacked high with bags — all name-brand, all unnecessary, and all expected to be carried without a word.

The dorm door number came into view like a personal insult.

Her father had promised better accommodations. A private room. Proper space. Decency. Yet here she was — shoved into a shared suite like some scholarship stray.

The door swung open under her hand, revealing Alya brushing Marinette's hair like they were starring in some low-budget sleepover special. Laughter rose from the couch, light and warm and grating.

Chloé didn't announce her presence; the click of her heels was enough.

Sabrina hovered awkwardly in the doorway until Chloé snapped her fingers. "In. Now."

Alya caught her gaze in the mirror across the room, her expression a mix of tired amusement and expectation. "You know, it wouldn't kill you just to say hello, Chloé."

Chloé's smile was razor-sharp as she crossed the room, her defiance palpable. "I think it would, I could see myself spontaneously combusting in nearly five seconds," she said, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Alya sighed, setting down the brush. "Well, can't win them all."

Marinette kept her eyes on the TV, her smile lingering. "I don't think we want to."

"Fair enough," Alya replied, lowering the volume. "Might as well enjoy the peace while it lasts."

Chloé glared at her perfectly made bed, a sight she had grown resentful of. Sabrina's meticulous unpacking and the way she organized everything had become an ongoing issue, one they both preferred to ignore.

She paced the room, arms tightly crossed over her chest, trying to contain her irritation. The day's events replayed in her mind, each moment adding to her frustration. There were too many unsolicited words and rules disguised as advice.

She remembered a class she had attended where one lecture discussed how an Omega's instincts should serve as a "calming influence" within a pack. Another lecture emphasized that grace and composure would make her "a valuable asset to any future Alpha." It felt as if she had heard it all before. Her entire life had been a checklist of how to be agreeable, compliant, and valuable.

She hated how easily those words found their way to her, pressing down on her ribs and tightening her breath to the point where even standing still felt like a chore.

When she finally spoke up, questioning why Omegas were plagued by expectations set centuries ago, the professor hadn't been surprised, only disappointed. It was as if she had embarrassed herself for daring to question the status quo.

Chloé moved to the window and pressed her palm against the glass, observing the students below as they scattered across the courtyard. They moved with a sense of purpose, seamlessly following the rhythm of the academy.

She applied more pressure with her fingers against the cool surface until her knuckles ached, using the chill to ground herself.

Outside, laughter floated lazily through the open air. After a moment, Chloé closed the curtain and turned away from the window.

Sabrina sat on her side of the bed, glancing over at Chloé before letting herself fall back, staring at the ceiling. "I just wish I could enjoy my time here," she said, her voice laced with a hint of hopefulness.

Chloé scoffed, crossing her arms. "Seriously, Sabrina? You're being ridiculous. This prison could never be anything more than that."

Sabrina sighed, the weight of their surroundings settling heavily in the air between them.

Chloé found herself in a class she often pretended to be sick to avoid. The teacher filled the air with a soothing aroma of herbs and fabric softener, easing the typical tension in Omega-designated areas.

Natural light poured in through expansive windows, while small potted flowers brightened the stone-and-metal surroundings. Soft cushions on each desk chair, embroidered with pale threads, complemented the room's warm color palette.

Chloé stepped inside, her heels clicking against the tile floor. She didn't pause to acknowledge the curious stares as she walked past them, her chin held high. She made her way to an empty desk that she had already claimed with a single look.

Sabrina hurried in behind her, arms laden with notebooks and an unnecessarily large second bag. She slid into the seat next to Chloé and whispered, "It's actually kind of nice in here."

Chloé responded with a noncommittal hum. "The instructor's probably an Omega. Only they try this hard to make a place feel less like a cage."

At the front of the classroom, a woman in her late sixties adjusted a pale shawl across her shoulders. The professor wore her hair in a neat bun, streaked with gray and silver. She smiled, her expression gentle and measured.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Mrs. Jael. Welcome to Scent Control & Identity Maintenance. This course will prepare you to understand and manage the expectations placed on your scent profile, particularly in public or shared-rank environments. We'll also cover identity tracking, protection protocols during heat, and ways to disengage from coercive bond behavior safely."

Chloé sat in her seat, her body language a silent protest. She crossed one leg over the other, her expression a mask of indifference as she observed the women, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee.

As Mrs. Jael turned to pick up a folder from the desk behind her, the edge of her shawl slipped. For a brief moment, the classroom caught sight of a mark low on her shoulder, which shimmered faintly in the shape of a crescent moon. She did not react with shame or alarm; instead, she tugged the shawl back into place with a soft smile, as if she had done it a hundred times before.

Chloé rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "How ridiculous. The idea of being marked like livestock is disturbing enough." She sighed, adding with disdain, "And smiling about it? Even worse." Her disdain for societal norms was noticeable, a testament to her rebellious nature.

A few gasps rippled through the room, the tension thick in the air. Someone on the far side sneered, "Typical Alpha-chaser talk." Another voice chimed in sharply, "What do you expect from a spoiled heat pet like her?"

Chloé's expression remained coldly indifferent as she turned her head slightly, her gaze piercing. "Typical that you'd say that," she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Please, you wish you looked as good as I do. Sorry if that offends your fragile ego."

The comment elicited a few huffs and a scoff from someone in the back of the room.

Samantha, seated near the middle row, leaned forward on her desk, her curls bouncing as she smiled. "I mean... she's right, though. The marks are creepy, just saying!"

Aisha, barely lifting her sleep mask, says, "Don't look from the back. "I don't see why we have to be branded like property just to prove we belong to someone."

Chloé glanced briefly at Samantha's eyes, moving from Naisha's to Samantha's grin to Naisha's disinterest, before turning her attention back to the front of the room.

Mrs. Jael, still smiling with a patience that bordered on saintly, adjusted her shawl as she walked toward the front of the room. The loose fabric slipped slightly from her shoulder, revealing a crescent moon mark along the curve of her neck. Sabrina's students leaned in and whispered. Sabrina's eyes widened, an expression that could almost be mistaken for envy.

Mrs. Jael continued to smile as she uncapped a marker and "began writing "discussion points on the board.

"I understand," she said gently, turning to face the class. "For those who dislike soul markings, it can be hard to imagine. The idea of having your partner chosen at random may not have been wild, even threatening. But it wasn't always something to fear. My husband was kind and gentle as a deer."

Soft murmurs of agreement rippled through the classroom." One Omega whispered, "It looks beautiful," while another nodded, clearly moved by the sentiment.

The moment of tranquility was disrupted when someone in the back muttered, "She just wants to be seen, the Bourgeois girl always does."

Chloé let out a sharp scoff. "Trust me, I don't need to try. You're welcome for the free entertainment."

Before anyone else could respond, the classroom door opened, and Marinette and Alya slipped inside, both looking perplexed.

"Sorry!" Marinette exclaimed. "There was a mix-up."

Alya added quickly, "We're sorry. It won't happen again."

Mrs. Jael sighed, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. "It's fine, girls. We were just getting started."

The two girls hurried to an empty row as the teacher turned back toward the board.

"That's enough bickering for now," Mrs. Jael said, her voice light. "We're here to learn. Miss Bourgeois, please stay after class."

Chloé's head snapped toward her. "Excuse me? That's ridiculous." Not happening."

She moved, one hand on her hip, sunlight glinting off her as she scratched her neck. I'm not sitting through a lecture "cause some people can't handle honesty."

Mrs. Jael didn't raise her voice or look up from the roll sheet. "You'll stay. Now, as I was saying—"

The lesson continued, and the murmurs in the classroom died down. Chloé continued standing for a moment longer, jaw clenched, before she finally dropped back into her seat.

Sabrina whispered, "Are you okay?"

Chloé didn't respond. She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.

The bell soon rang, a low chime signaling the end of class. Chloé was already standing while most of them had yet to stir. She slung her purse over one shoulder with practiced ease and started toward the door, with Sabrina quick on her heels. Chloé noticed the professor frown at her as she left, prompting her to avert her eyes.

"I didn't know scent control used to be so strict," Sabrina said, hugging her notebook to her chest as they walked into the corridor. "Or how important bonding ceremonies were back then. Fascinating, don't you think?"

Chloé rolled her eyes. "You're particularly chipper today. Did someone lace your tea with Alya's sugar and optimism again?"

Sabrina giggled, undeterred. "I think it's cool. "We get to learn this stuff firsthand. Mrs. Jael knows her history."

Behind them, Alya's voice carried as she and Marinette walked with the flow of students in the hall. "She's so kind, too. Not at all, I didn't expect that from someone teaching a class like that."

Marinette nodded as she caught up. "Yeah, she's gentle with how she explains everything. It makes it feel less, I don't know, like a warning."

Chloé paused mid-step, turning on her heel with deliberate sharpness. "Why are you following me?"

Alya raised her eyebrows. "Girl, you need to relax. We live in the same dorm."

Chloé frowned, holding a hand to her forehead. "This is such a terrible arrangement."

Alya stepped closer, her frustration palpable. "Can you be any less whiny? Stop acting like a pup."

Marinette, walking between them, sighed. "Can we not do this before lunch?"

Chloé shot Alya a glare and turned to Samantha and Aisha, trailing behind. "Why are you following me?"

Samantha smiled. "I just wanted to ask where you got your purse. It's super cute!" She jogged to keep up. "Aisha's here because I promised to wake her if she fell asleep."

Aisha, wearing her eye mask like a headband, shrugged. "Facts."

The sun was setting behind the academy, creating long shadows on the paths as the girls walked back to their dorms.

"We should totally grab coffee tomorrow," Samantha said brightly, bouncing on her toes. "There's that new all-you-can-eat café off the city line. Buffet and lattes? Say less!"

Aisha yawned. "Only if it's after ten. I'm not dragging myself anywhere at sunrise."

"I'm in," Alya said, slinging her bag higher on her shoulder. "Anything's better than whatever that was in the cafeteria today."

Chloé made a face but stayed silent, turning away from them.

As they passed the central lawn, a group of students gathered beneath the blooming trees, their voices raised in protest. Colorful signs bobbed above their heads, each proclaiming a stance on the soul marks affecting society.

At the center stood Mylène from the debate club, her colorful dreadlocks pulled back and a patterned headband keeping her hair in place. "These soul marks are a curse!" she declared. "Like we protect trees, we must reject this scam! They offer nothing but scars chosen without our consent, mocking everything we stand for!"

Her passionate plea earned a wave of cheers, and a few students howled in response, filling the lawn with energy.

Marinette stood at the edge, her fingers intertwined nervously. "They don't all have to be bad... Soul marks can be beautiful, even lovely."

Alya nudged her gently, smiling. "Hey, don't overthink it. You're allowed to feel how you feel."

Samantha frowned, her gaze shifting between the crowd and their group. "It still feels off to me."

Aisha groaned. "Can we have one day without a cultural identity crisis?"

Chloé turned with a flourish, her purse swinging at her side. "This is ridiculous! I'm not interested in listening to a bunch of confused puppies whining!" She strode off, heels clacking as she left.

The group exchanged glances and followed her, their conversation fading as they departed from the rally.

By the time they reached the dorm, the afternoon light cast a golden glow on the campus paths. The girls walked in pairs, backpacks slung loosely, their chat trailing off as they entered the shared suite.

Samantha opened the door with a grin. "Ours is down the hall, but your floor has better lighting. It's more fun to hang out here."

Aisha followed her in, not bothering to take off her shoes. "Yeah, let's make this the official hangout spot."

Sabrina headed to the kitchen. "I'll make tea. Who wants mint or chamomile?"

Marinette rushed to the cabinet. "I think I saw almond cookies in here earlier, unless someone already ate them!"

"I didn't," Alya replied, settling onto the couch with a blanket. "But if they're gone, I'll start a riot."

Chloé walked past them in silence, her heels clicking on the tile, and disappeared into her room. There, she tied her hair into a loose ponytail and changed into sleek running gear, a ritual she kept to herself. Smiling at her reflection, she struck a pose with her hands raised, then twirled and lifted a leg.                                                              

Adrien had once told her that she looked 'adorable when she ran,' and although she had laughed it off, his words lingered in her mind. As she laced up her shoes, a smile remained on her lips, recalling the innocent tease that had inspired her running habit.

Outside the door, Marinette called out to Chloé, who had a few snacks in her arms. "Are you going somewhere?"

Chloé paused, her eyes scanning the snacks. With a sigh, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Chloé's shoes hit the path with a steady rhythm as she completed her third lap around Threadwake Lake. Her breath came in short, hot bursts as she finally slowed down, leaning forward with her hands braced on her legs. She stared down at her watch, wheezing slightly through her next breath. 

"Goddess! This ridiculous body cannot keep up with my stamina," she huffed. "I would shift, but I'm not ruining this limited edition outfit."

She straightened slowly, tugging out one of her earbuds and lowering the volume on the other. The stillness of the lake pulled her attention, the stars gleaming on its surface like diamonds. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine from the nearby forest. It was quiet here, a kind of quiet she didn't often experience, and didn't always know how to handle.

Her eyes drifted to the far side of the water, where a figure rested against a tree. A boy sat with his head tilted back and headphones covering his eyes. The moonlight caught the edges of his features, casting a pale glow over him. He appeared as if he had stepped out of a dream or maybe a long-forgotten story.

Chloé frowned but didn't move; she remained still as she watched him. He didn't stir. A single bead of sweat trailed down her temple, slipping down her neck. She scratched absently at the spot, her eyes flicking away for just a moment.

When she looked back, the boy was no longer sleeping. His sudden awakening caught her off guard, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.

He looked her way, headphones still in place, his eyes a captivating teal with hints of gold swirling within them. Chloé felt a jolt of something unfamiliar surge through her, her body reacting despite herself. Warmth flooded her cheeks, and a flutter danced in her stomach that she couldn't ignore. She folded her arms, standing tall, but his gaze quickened her heartbeat in ways she wished to avoid.

Her internal struggle was palpable, a battle between her curiosity and her desire to maintain her composure. He held his stare for just a moment longer before looking away, closing his eyes as if the encounter had meant nothing at all.

With a scoff, she turned back to the path, letting her ponytail swing behind her as she walked. "Weirdo," she muttered loud enough for him to hear, her voice laced with determination to dismiss the strange sensations he stirred within her.

Chapter Text

The dorm smelled of buttered popcorn, cardstock, and the faint scent of overcooked ramen. Luka sat cross-legged on the floor, cards fanned out in his hand, his back resting against the side of the couch. Above him, Adrien lounged sideways, his feet up, one arm hanging over the edge.

Nino sat opposite Luka, his brow furrowed as he rearranged his hand. "I'm telling you, she's different," he said. "Alya's not like anyone else here. She's sassy, funny, and she can beat me in trivia, which is rare, so yeah."

Luka smiled, watching as Nino's ears turned pink. "You're saying that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not," Nino replied quickly, his grin sheepish. "I just... You know. She's—"

"Alyaaaaa," Adrien drawled from the couch, stretching her name into a tease. "You've been talking about her all week. Next thing we know, you'll start writing her love poems on your homework assignments."

Nino rolled his eyes but tried to hide his smile behind his cards. "Yeah, okay, because that wouldn't be creepy at all."

"I've seen worse; just don't make it weird." Adrien smiled, propping his head up on one hand.

Luka watched the exchange, feeling the easy rhythm of their banter ripple through the room. The pack's energy had changed over the course of the last week, from being like a bunch of strangers sharing a space to feeling more like friends.

Ivan wandered in from the kitchen carrying a bowl of pretzels. He set it down in the middle of the game board and flopped into a chair, his expression unreadable as usual. "Whose turn?"

"Yours," Luka said, passing him the dice.

Ivan gave them a lazy roll, sending them clattering across the board. "If I win, I'm taking the last soda in the fridge."

"You can't call dibs in advance," Nino argued.

"Sure, I can," Ivan said, moving his game piece with unhurried precision.

Adrien groaned theatrically. "This is why we need actual game night rules. You people are feral."

"Pack," Luka corrected quietly, almost without thinking.

Adrien tilted his head, his smile softening just a little. "Yeah... pack."

The word lingered in the air, weaving itself into the laughter and playful arguments that followed.

Ivan tore open the lone bag of chips on the table, frowning at the meager contents. "Seriously? One bag?"

Adrien held up the single bottle of soda they'd found in the fridge. "And one drink."

Nino groaned. "That's a crime against Alphas with high metabolism."

"Forget metabolism, this is just sad," Ivan said, shoving a few chips into his mouth. He looked at Adrien. "Let's make a run to the store. Closest one to campus."

Adrien grabbed his jacket with a nod. "Yeah, before Nino tries to eat the furniture."

"Hey—" Nino started, but the door was already swinging shut behind them.

The dorm quieted almost immediately. Luka leaned against the arm of the couch, watching Nino shuffle the cards in slow, lazy motions.

After a moment, Nino glanced up. "You think it'd be worth it to ask Ayla out? Even though we don't have soul marks?"

Luka tilted his head. "I don't know... but I think you should follow the tune in your heart."

Nino raised a brow. "The tune in my heart?"

"Yeah," Luka said with a faint smile. "When you look at her, what song plays in your head, and why? If you can answer that, maybe you've already got your answer."

Nino chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound like a romance movie."

"Or a good song," Luka replied, stretching his legs out.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm of lazy card games and a half-hearted "guess the song" challenge from Luka's playlist. The TV flickered quietly in the background, the only other light coming from the warm glow of the kitchen lamp.

Minutes bled into each other. Nino hummed softly over the sound of shuffling cards. Luka's eyes drifted shut, his head sinking back into the couch cushions.

The peace broke with a sharp bang as the door slammed behind Ivan and Adrien. Luka jerked awake, Nino growling under his breath as his eyes glowed faintly in irritation.

"Easy," Adrien said with a half-smile, stepping inside with his arms full of bags. "Ivan doesn't know his own strength."

Ivan kicked the door shut behind him, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "Ran into Ayla on the way back," he said casually, pulling out a few wrapped sandwiches.

Adrien dropped onto the couch beside Luka, tossing a bag of chips at Nino. "And I saw Marinette. She and Ayla were out on a stroll."

Nino froze mid–bag grab, his head snapping up. "Wait, Ayla was out there?"

"Yup," Ivan said, handing Luka a bottle of water.

Nino slouched back into the cushions with a dramatic groan, pressing a hand to his chest. "Man... I didn't even get to be anywhere near her cinnamon and floral scent she's got going on."

Adrien chuckled, grabbing his own drink. "Down, boy."

Nino rolled his eyes, muttering, "I'm just saying," with a shrug of his shoulders before tearing into the chips.

Luka reached for the remote, his expression calm. "Movie time." He scrolled through the options and landed on a nature documentary.

Adrien squinted at the title. "The Many Sounds of the Ocean? Seriously?"

"It's the one with the seashell part, right?" Ivan asked, already sounding bored.

"Yeah," Luka replied, settling back. "They explain how you can hear the ocean through a seashell."

"That's going to put us to sleep in five minutes," Nino mumbled, his mouth full of chips.

Luka's smile was warm, but his eyes flashed a warning. "Then you'll sleep well."

The three of them fell silent, exchanging glances before focusing on the screen.

Luka leaned back, allowing the low hum of ocean sounds to fill the room. His gaze drifted toward the small stack of unfinished assignments on the table beside him.

He groaned softly. "Tomorrow," he muttered, ignoring the pile of work. The dorm was quiet, except for his steady breathing and the papers left untouched on the desk.

By the third class of the morning, Luka's notebook already felt heavier than it should've. His bag was stuffed with papers, his head fogged with too many late nights. Ivan leaned back in his chair with his arms folded, Adrien half-asleep beside him. Across the aisle, Nino tapped a pencil against his desk while a few students murmured, the last stragglers filing in and finding their seats.

At the front, Professor Hale stood with his usual easy stance. He caught Luka's eye and offered a small, knowing smile — one Luka returned faintly before settling in.

Hale leaned against his desk, arms loosely crossed. "If you came here expecting a neat rulebook on pack life, you're in the wrong class. Forget the stories about perfect Alphas and gentle Omegas. Those are just roles wolves cling to when they're scared of real cracks in the system. Packs are messy. Complicated. Sometimes brilliant, sometimes brutal."

His gaze swept the room, pausing just long enough to make a few students shift in their seats.

"If something feels unfair, say it. If you think the whole system's broken, say that too. The question you're scared to ask—" He tipped his chin with a half-smile. "That's the one I want to hear."

Samantha's hand shot up. "So, Professor, are you single?"

A ripple of laughter followed. Hale didn't miss a beat. "Aim your rebellion at the system, not my personal life."

Samantha grinned. "Just testing boundaries."

Even Luka smirked. Hale smiled faintly back and grabbed a piece of chalk.

"Alright," he said, sketching on the board. "You've all heard the formula: Alpha leads, Betas balance, Omegas soothe. But that's not how it started. Packs formed because being alone meant you were dead — rogues, hunger, hunters. Wolves built families, not hierarchies."

The room quieted as the words sank in.

"What holds a pack together?" Hale asked. "And what tears it apart? Don't give me the clean answer. Give me the real one. I'll be choosing pairs."

A few groans rose, chairs scraped, but Hale just smirked. "Luka with Ayla. Adrien with Marinette. Ivan with Mylène. Nino—take Naisha and Samantha. They'll keep you awake."

"Lucky me," Nino muttered, glancing at Luka. "Just don't eat the last cookie this time."

Luka sighed. "That was one time."

Around them, groups began to form. Adrien stumbled through small talk with Marinette, Ivan murmured something that made Mylène laugh, and Naisha was half-asleep until Samantha poked her with a pen.

Luka found himself across from Ayla, who twirled her pencil before resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes were sharp — curious.

"A pack without trust," she said finally, "is destined to fail. Doesn't matter how strong the Alpha thinks he is. If no one trusts him, they'll scatter."

Luka tilted his head, thoughtful. "Yeah. It's like music. One wrong note can ruin the song. But when everyone's in sync, even the quietest piece has a purpose."

Her lips curved into a small smile. "Better answer than what the textbook gave."

Across the aisle, Nino leaned back. "Forget music. If no one's honest with each other, everything falls apart. A pack's gotta feel real—like actual friends."

"Snacks keep packs together," Naisha mumbled into her sleeve.

Samantha brightened. "She's right. Fun matters. A pack without laughter? Disaster waiting to happen."

"Snacks and laughter," Nino repeated with a smirk. "Told you. Science."

From Ivan's side, his deep voice carried easily. "Kindness. It's not weakness—it's what keeps people together."

Mylène nodded softly. "Exactly. You're strong because you care. Not despite it."

At the front, Hale started jotting their answers on the board: trust. honesty. kindness. laughter.

He turned back to them. "Notice what's missing?" The chatter died down. "Not one of you said dominance; old packs lived by it. But you're all pointing somewhere else entirely. Maybe that's worth paying attention to."

Luka tapped his pen against his notebook, the weight of Hale's words settling in. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind drifting to the pile of essays waiting back in his dorm. He stifled a yawn, eyes flicking to the fading chalk lines on the board.

The bell rang, but before anyone could start packing up, the door swung open. Chloé walked in late, holding a smoothie, with Sabrina following her as usual. She brought in a strong smell of roses today.

A few students whispered to each other as the door opened. Samantha brightened instantly, waving from her seat.

"Chloéeee," she called, beaming. "Oh my Selene, it's good to see you!"

Even Naisha, who'd been half-asleep moments ago, managed a slow wave. " Fashionably late as always.."

Chloé crossed the room with her head high, ignoring the murmurs that followed. The soft scent of roses trailed in her wake as she set her smoothie down on Hale's desk and handed him a folded note.

"Excused," she said simply.

Hale raised an eyebrow, unfolding the paper. "You haven't been in class all week, Miss Bourgeois. I didn't expect to see you."

"That's because," Chloé replied, rolling her eyes, "this class is too easy for me. I want it taken off my schedule."

A ripple of whispers spread through the room. Marinette exchanged a glance with Alya before Alya spoke up, tone sharp.
"Are you too delicate to discuss packs, Chloé?"

Marinette added quietly, "Guess it must be exhausting for her, having to sit with the rest of us."

Chloé turned fast, eyes flashing. "Mind your own business!" Her voice rang through the room, sharp enough to silence the whispers.

The air thickened. Luka pinched the bridge of his nose, already tired from the pile of essays waiting in his bag.
"Your voice is so loud," he muttered, "I'd skip that track every time it played."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she strode toward him, fury simmering beneath her skin. She looked him over, her eyes narrowing—then widening just slightly, as if something unexpected had struck her.

"I'll have you know that my voice is lovely," she said, lifting her chin. Then, with a sharp edge creeping into her tone, she added, "You're just a doormat — always there for everyone to step on. It's hard to picture a boy like you ever being Alpha material." 

The room became silent.

Nino's pencil snapped cleanly in half, the sharp crack slicing through the tension in the room. Ivan's brows furrowed, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as he glared at Nino, barely containing his frustration. Adrien glanced between them, his heart racing, his hands clenching into fists as he tried to gauge the brewing conflict.

Luka leaned back, calm on the surface, though his grip on the pen betrayed the storm beneath. The light shifted across his eyes — teal deepening to gold and seafoam in a sudden, silent flare before cooling again. "I've heard worse," he said evenly. "Honestly? Your voice isn't a melody I ever want to hear again."

Hale cleared his throat into his fist, the sound cracking the tension. "That's enough." His voice was calm but carried weight. "Chloé, please. I won't have my classroom turned into a stage."

He paused, letting the silence settle before adding, "Class dismissed."

Chairs scraped. The shuffle of bags filled the room. Students filed out quickly, some glancing back for one last look, murmurs buzzing at their heels. Luka didn't move right away. His eyes locked with Chloé's, a glare meeting a glare, neither willing to look away first.

Adrien's hand landed on his shoulder. "Come on, man," he urged.

Ivan stepped close on his other side, solid and unwavering. Nino gently pushed at his back, guiding him toward the door before the tension could snap, keeping his eyes locked on Chloe. 

Behind them, Naisha lingered, rubbing her eyes awake, while Samantha practically bounced on her toes with excitement. Sabrina hovered beside Chloe, her voice low and filled with concern. Chloe stood rigid, her shoulders trembling with the fury she refused to express until Luka was gone.

The door swung shut just as her voice filled the air, sharp enough to echo down the hall. "Doormat! Useless! You'll never be anything!" A torrent of words followed, a mix of shrieking and cursing, until the hallway absorbed them.

Luka exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightly clenched.

"Well," Nino said with a low whistle, "that was a disaster."

"More like a train wreck," Ivan muttered.

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, I just lost five years of my life sitting through that."

They reached the stairwell, and the scents of the classroom began to fade, replaced by the crisp air filtering through the high windows.

"You okay?" Adrien asked, glancing at Luka.

"I'm fine," Luka replied, his voice quiet and steady as he rolled his shoulders once.

"No way you're fine, man," Nino shot back. "Not after that circus." He flashed Luka a grin that barely concealed his concern. "Come on, let's go for a run to burn it off."

Ivan nodded in agreement, already tugging at the zipper of his jacket. "Best way to let it out."

Luka sighed as he stared down the stairwell. He wanted to argue, to brush it off again, but the watchful, steady eyes of his friends felt protective in a way that didn't require words.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine. A run."

The city lights had long faded behind them, giving way to trees that whispered in the dark. By the time the boys slowed down, their paws hitting the softer earth, the forest opened up into a clearing where the water glimmered silver under the moonlight.

They followed the scent of water until the trees opened into a wide clearing. The moon hung low above the canopy, spilling silver light across the pool that stretched out before them. The waterfall whispered over the rocks, its rhythm calm and steady, blending with the rustle of leaves and the chirping of distant night birds.

Luka slowed near the edge, the others hanging back as he stopped beneath the moonlight. Bones shifted and muscles realigned, fur giving way to skin in a quiet shimmer of movement. When he stood, human again, the cool night air brushed against his damp hair and the faint steam rising from his shoulders.

He stepped forward, leaving dark footprints in the wet earth. Moonlight caught in his reflection, his teal eyes flashing with hints of gold and seafoam before the image broke apart beneath his step. The water climbed to his chest as he waded in.

"I hope there aren't any sirens out tonight," he murmured, voice calm and even, but carrying through the clearing. "That would be a treat."

Nino cocked his head, curiosity edging his tone. "A treat?"

Luka's lips curved slightly. "They like music. I'd stay all night just to play a few songs with them."

Adrien let out a chuckle but didn't tease. The tension in the air had eased, their earlier frustration dissolving with the sound of running water.

Luka closed his eyes, letting the hum of the forest settle over him — the rush of the falls, the distant birds, the rhythm of the night.

When he opened them again, something white darted between the trees. It was quick — just a flicker — but for a heartbeat, it lingered, watching him. Luka froze, muscles tightening as his gaze followed the shadows. The forest stilled with him.

Nothing. Only the steady whisper of the falls.

He waited a moment longer before exhaling and sinking deeper into the water, the coolness soothing the last of his tension.

Behind him, Nino's voice broke the calm. "You know, Chloé wasn't always like this. Back in elementary school, she was actually kinda nice. Adorable, even."

Adrien's brow lifted. "Yeah. Until talent show day."

Ivan gave a quiet grunt that might've been a laugh. "Didn't she break someone's nose?"

"Almost," Nino said with a grin. "Over a stolen solo."

Their laughter mingled with the sound of the waterfall, fading into the night. Luka stayed quiet, eyes on the moonlight dancing over the surface, a faint smile touching his lips.

Chapter Text

The TV in the corner was still on, the volume set to low, as a panel debate flickered across the screen.

"I hope I get a soul mark," a girl said excitedly. "It means destiny, right? Selene shows us who our mate will be."

An older man scoffed. "Destiny? No, child. It's a mistake. Selene is testing us and leading us to destruction. The old ways were better. We chose our packs and mates without needing any glowing marks."

"Oh, come on, you're so naïve," a young man interrupted, sounding frustrated. "This is far from fine! Half of those 'chosen' pairings have led to heartbreak or worse. Soul markings feel more like a game of roulette, offering us no choice and leaving us at the mercy of fate."

The moderator attempted to manage the situation, but the argument escalated into an increasingly heated exchange, with voices overlapping. Ivan barely glanced at the screen as he slammed his elbow on the table, while Nino cheered in excitement, drowning out the TV.

"Two for two!" Nino grinned, flexing his muscles like he'd won a grand prize.

"Rematch," Ivan growled, flashing his fangs in a grin that was half threat, half thrill. He twisted his cap so the skull faced front and shoved up his sleeves, ready to prove a point no one had asked for.

From the kitchen, Adrien sighed as he closed his book. "Could you two please try not to destroy the dorm this time?"

"You say that," Nino called back, "but I bet you're eager to join in." Adrien closed the book with a thud, smiling. "Well, you've convinced me. Let's get this over with."

Chairs scraped against the floor as Adrien sat across from Nino, supporting himself on one arm.

A low, groggy voice drifted from the couch. "If the table falls, I'm not helping to fix it."

Adrien smirked without looking back. "That a threat or a promise?"

"A plea," Luka mumbled, pulling the blanket higher over his head.

Nino chuckled, letting go of Adrien's arm. "Fine, fine - truce before Sleeping Beauty gets cranky."

Luka sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. His loosely hung shirt and tilted head exposed his neck as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

Nino squinted at him. "Wait, Luka... what is that?"

"What?" Luka muttered, rubbing his face.

"Your neck," Nino said, tapping the side of his own neck. "There's something there."

Luka frowned and stood up, stumbling slightly as he walked toward the bathroom.

"If this is a prank..." Luka sighed, giving a heavy stare to his packmates.

"It's not," Adrien said, voice higher than usual.

Luka tugged down his collar, leaning toward the mirror.

A faint shimmer pulsed beneath his skin - a paw print glowing softly, its rhythm beating in time with his heart.

The light traced his collarbone like molten gold, alive and unyielding. When he met his reflection, the steady teal of his eyes fractured into an amber flare - fire meeting tide, calm colliding with something untamed beneath.

Behind him, Ivan's voice broke the silence, quiet but tense. "That's... a soul mark."

Luka spun toward him. "What?"

Adrien's eyes widened. "It's real, Luka. You've been matched."

Luka stared between them, pulse hammering in his throat. "No. No, that's not possible. It wasn't there this morning."

Ivan exhaled, uneasy. "That's how it works. The match finds you whether you want it or not. Haven't you seen the news? Even the professors are losing it with how fast these marks are showing up."

Luka's voice was faint. "Professor Vale said the same thing... marks appearing without warning. Bonds forming outside tradition." His throat tightened. "And now one's on me. Just perfect."

Ivan approached the door, arms crossed and expressionless. Adrien and Nino stood nearby, watching uneasily, unsure if stepping forward would help or worsen the situation.

Luka's scent changed, pungent and biting, cutting through the air like spice and static. It clung to the walls, sudden and overwhelming. All three boys winced, their noses wrinkling instinctively.

Adrien's eyes flickered, the green bleeding into gold-his own wolf reacting to the sudden change in scent.

"Alright," he said slowly, voice steady with caution. "We're going to give you some space. ... try to stay calm, yeah?"

Luka didn't seem to hear him. His gaze stayed locked on the mirror, expression blank, unreadable.

Adrien took a careful step back toward the door, lowering his voice. "The last thing you need is every Alpha on this floor catching that scent."

Nino nodded, keeping his voice low. "You're kind of broadcasting, man."

Despite their reassurances, Luka stayed hunched over the sink, gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Of all the wolves on this campus... why me?"

"Would it really be so bad?" Ivan muttered, voice barely audible.

Luka's head lifted, his gaze snapping to Ivan. The air seemed to thin. Ivan's brown eyes widened, the hairs on his neck standing as Luka's deadpan stare met his-emotionless, yet swirling with something dangerous underneath.

Adrien dragged a hand down his face. "Okay... okay. There's got to be something. Breathing techniques? Pressure points?"

"Tea?" Nino offered, voice shaky but trying. "My mom swears by chamomile and lavender."

Ivan gave him a look that could curdle milk. "You think tea's going to fix this?"

"Hey," Nino snapped, his wolf rising in his tone. "You got a better idea?"

Ivan's jaw flexed. "Yeah. Maybe get someone who actually knows what they're doing. Like a pack enforcer."

The air shifted instantly.

Nino's head snapped toward him, disbelief flashing across his face. "Are you out of your rabid mind?"

He stepped forward, closing the space fast. "You call an enforcer; they'll slap a suppressant collar on him and throw him in holding - drugged out of his mind! That's what you want?"

Ivan met him halfway, his scent spiking, pupils narrowing. "It's better than standing here fumbling with ideas and talking about tea! At least I'm thinking of something, wise guy!"

Nino grabbed him by the collar, the motion rough and instinctive. "You wanna say that again?"

"Gladly," Ivan snapped, his grip tightening on Nino's wrist.

"Both of you, enough!"

Adrien's voice cut through the tension, his eyes flashing gold. "You're not helping. You're making it worse."

The growls subsided, leaving a strained quiet in their wake.

Luka hadn't moved, though his knuckles had turned white against the sink.

Adrien exhaled. "He's not just angry. That mark hit like a blow to the chest. He's shaken, and we're floundering like pups."

Nino let go first, muttering, "So you're saying the tea might actually help."

Ivan rubbed the back of his neck. "We can't just stand here watching him lose it."

Luka's voice came rough and low. "I'll be fine," He said, "Go to class. I'll manage."

"Dude, you don't look fine," Nino shot back. "Maybe a sparring match'll burn it off-"

Ivan snorted. "Yeah, perfect. He's hanging by a thread, and you wanna throw punches?"

Adrien groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "He's right. Give him space."
He paused, his tone easing. "Besides, Luka's not some hotheaded Alpha who solves everything with his fists. He's better than that."

The room stayed tense a beat longer before Adrien nudged them toward the door.
It shut with a solid click, leaving only Luka - and the sound of his uneven breathing - in the quiet.

Luka's chest heaved. The pull of the mark thrummed beneath his skin - a magnetic ache that wasn't entirely his own.

His wolf was awake, restless, and clawing to follow the invisible tether to whoever bore the other half of the mark.

Light shimmered faintly along his collarbone, the mark pulsing with its own heartbeat.

He clenched his jaw. "No," he said softly. "I don't need a mate."

The words had barely left him when a faint, breathy laugh rippled through the air. It wasn't loud, but it crawled beneath his skin.

The air vibrated in his skull - You always did hate fate, the voice murmured. But you can't keep running from it, Luka.

His fingers dug into the counter. "...You've got to be kidding me. Not you again."

I missed you too, the voice replied, though I can't say you've done much with yourself since I've been gone.

The mark burned hotter, sending a wave of heat crawling up his neck.

"Stay out of my head," he said through gritted teeth.

You woke me, the wolf countered, tone almost curious. Or maybe she did. You felt it too, didn't you? That pull. That bond.

Luka's reflection shimmered, his eyes catching the light - teal bleeding into a volatile mix of amber and red.

"I don't know what you mean," he whispered. "I didn't feel anything. I don't want a bond with a stranger I've never met - not like this."

How long will that resolve of yours last? The wolf's voice slithered closer, curling through his thoughts. You know what this mark means. Fate doesn't make mistakes... and yet-

It chuckled low, the sound vibrating at the base of his skull. This one feels different like someone pushed destiny's hand.

Luka inhaled slowly, the breath deliberate, controlled. "I don't care who pushed what," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm still in control."

That struck a nerve. The wolf growled - a sound that came from inside him, low and primal. Liar.

The air warped. His reflection distorted, edges blurring as fur rippled along his arms and his ears sharpened to points. His breathing deepened into a feral rhythm, each breath rough and uneven - the cadence of a creature barely holding its shape.

The mark blazed against his skin, pulsing red-gold like fire trapped beneath glass. Luka's snarl tore through his restraint as his fist shot forward, shattering the mirror.

Cracks spiderwebbed outward, glass clattering to the floor. Blood welled from his knuckles, bright against the sink's white porcelain.

"Knock it off, Riven," he hissed - voice gravel low, blood running down his wrist.

The answering silence was heavy - a presence retreating but not gone.

Luka steadied his breathing; eyes fixed on the fractured reflection staring back. "I said I'm in control," he whispered again, quieter this time, though even he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

The door slammed open, rattling the hinges.

"Luka-!"

Adrien burst in first, clutching a small vial like it was some sacred antidote. Ivan and Nino followed close behind-Ivan looking ready to tackle someone, Nino waving a crumpled napkin full of tea leaves.

Then they froze.

Luka was sprawled across the couch, half-buried under a blanket, breathing slowly, his breath even. One hand dangled lazily off the side, the other draped over his eyes.

He cracked one open. "...You're all late to the apocalypse."

Adrien blinked. "You're-fine?"

"Define fine," Luka muttered, sitting up to rub his neck. "But yeah. Still breathing."

Nino dropped into the armchair with a loud sigh. "Man, you're unbelievable. We thought you went full wolf-mode! Adrien found something better than my mom's tea—his words, not mine —and we had a whole plan. You know, because when your wolf takes over, you've got like twenty seconds before your mind gets shredded fighting for dominance."

Luka looked between them, unimpressed. "And your plan was... what? To stab me?"

Adrien coughed into his fist. "Technically, it was an injectable sedative. But close enough."

Ivan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I can't believe we sprinted three floors for this."

"Hey," Nino shot back, "I wasn't about to let my Alpha bro get mentally shredded. That's bad for team morale."

Luka smirked faintly. "Appreciate the sentiment."

Adrien finally exhaled, dropping beside him, the vial still in his hand but forgotten. Ivan slumped to the floor, leaning against the couch with his eyes closed, while Nino flicked the TV back on like nothing had happened.

Chapter Text

Two hours later, the dorm actually felt alive again—or as close to normal as it got. Empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table, controller cords tangled like vines, and a half-finished round of Vampire Apocalypse blinked on the screen.

Nino was losing spectacularly.

"Dude, that's cheating," he groaned, pointing his slice at Adrien.

Adrien just smirked, thumb mashing the buttons. "You call strategy cheating, I call it survival instincts."

Ivan snorted from the kitchen. "Pretty sure your instincts involve hiding behind the fridge and letting us die first."

"Teamwork!" Adrien shot back.

The laughter came easily, layered over the hum of the console and the faint crackle of the TV. Beneath it, Luka's earlier scent—a sharp, electric edge of a riled Alpha—still lingered in the air. Even with the window open, the room held onto the memory, a tension that wolves didn't forget quickly.

Luka lounged at the end of the couch, controller loose in his hand, his eyes following the chaos on screen more out of habit than focus. Every so often, his fingers brushed the faint mark on his neck — no longer glowing, but still there, stubborn beneath the skin.

Nino leaned back with a groan. "I swear, this place still smells like you nearly went feral."
"Ten thousand times stronger sense of smell, remember?" Ivan said. "It's not fading anytime soon."
"Guess we're living in Eau de Alpha Panic for the week." Nino groaned. 

"Better than Eau de Nino's gym socks," Adrien added without missing a beat.

That earned a thrown pillow. It wasn't normal by any means, but it was enough to help them breathe and collect their thoughts. A firm, deliberate knock came at the door.  

All four of them froze mid-motion.

Ivan glanced at Adrien. "You expecting someone?"

"Nope," Adrien said, pushing himself upright with a groan. "If it's a professor, I'm pretending to be unconscious."

Nino chuckled but didn't move either. The knock came again —  followed by a voice that sounded amused and faintly annoyed. "Hey, is anyone dead in there? The hallway reeks."

Ivan groaned but dragged himself up, padding over to the door. He cracked it open to find a tall Alpha leaning casually against the frame — broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and that effortless confidence that screamed senior year. Another stood a step behind him, thinner and sharper, arms crossed, his half-lidded gaze assessing the room like he already regretted showing up.

The taller one grinned, looking over his."See? Told you it was them."

Ivan blinked. "Uh... can we help you?"

The guy stepped in like he owned the place, nodding at everyone as if they were old friends. "Hey, I'm Roan — unit down the hall. That's Jules," he said, jerking a thumb toward the quieter one outside. "We caught some heavy scent spikes over here. Thought we'd check no one went full feral."

Roan's nostrils flared slightly. "Yeah, and maybe confirm no one lost an arm."

Adrien raised an eyebrow. "Relax, no one died. We were just locked in an epic 'Vampire Apocalypse' death match. You try keeping composure when Nino's camping spawn points."

"Strategic advantage," Nino protested.

Roan stared for a beat, then huffed out a laugh and looked to Jules, who only shrugged like this was exactly the chaos he'd expected.

Luka stayed on the couch, controller in hand, posture loose but gaze distant. Roan's eyes flicked to the faint mark on Luka's neck, a glimmer under the low light, and a look of caution crossed his face. He didn't ask; he just nodded, his tone softening. "Right, long night then. I just wanted to make sure everyone was breathing."

"Yeah," Adrien said, "We're cool." 

Jules gestured toward the window. "Good. We were heading to Whispers Lake anyway. Thought you might want to come burn off whatever's left of... that."

"Out where?" Nino asked immediately, perking up.

"Past threadlake," Roan suggested. "The cliffs are perfect for diving—it's open air, a great place to clear your head, and sometimes girls from a neighboring school come to visit that spot." 

Jules, remaining calm and collected, added, "Yeah, come join if you want." He adjusted the strap of the pack slung over his shoulder. "We brought water and energy drinks."

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "No food?"

Roan grinned, his teeth flashing. "I figured you'd take care of that part."

Ivan snorted, already heading for the cabinets. "Smart man."

Nino nudged Luka's boot. "C'mon, man. You need this. You've been brooding since sunrise."

Luka's voice came out low and rough. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Nino said flatly, then looked to Roan. "Give us a sec."

Roan lifted both hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no rush. We'll be outside before the moon changes its mind."

Once the door clicked shut again, Adrien crouched beside Luka. "Look. You don't have to do anything you don't want. But this thing that happened? It's not going anywhere tonight. You can either sit in here and spiral, or come out with us and be surrounded by people who get it."

Luka ran a hand down his face. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now." He stood, shoulders stiff but steady. "But fine. Let's go."

The night air was cooler once they hit the treeline. Gravel shifted under their paws after they'd shifted, fur brushing against tall grass as they ran. The forest thinned into open rock, the sound of water growing louder with each leap.

The waterfall was a roaring torrent when they reached the ridge, spewing white water into the lake below. Moonlight caught the spray, silvering the air around them.

Jules dropped his pack onto the rocks and started unloading bottles. The hiss of a cracked energy drink broke the quiet. He handed one to Nino, who took it with a grin and popped it open like he'd been waiting for the chance.

Ivan laid out sandwiches and chips, setting them on a flat rock, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Not exactly a feast," he muttered, "but better than nothing."

Nino stretched in wolf form before flopping into the grass with a satisfied groan. Adrien had already shifted back, his bare feet at the lake's edge. He dove in without hesitation, laughter carrying over the water as he surfaced again, hair plastered to his face.

Roan sprawled on the rocks, arms behind his head, like he'd been here a hundred times. Jules sat a little further off, knees drawn up, quietly sipping from a bottle as his eyes scanned the ridge, watchful even when he wasn't saying much.

Luka stayed standing for a while, looking out over the water. The mist brushed against his skin, calm and grounding, but it didn't wash away the weight pressing at his chest. The mark hadn't faded, not really. He could still feel it under his collar, steady and insistent.

But here, with the roar of the falls, the rush of night air, and the others laughing or sprawled out in the grass, it didn't feel quite suffocating.

He finally sat on the edge of the ridge, letting his feet dangle above the spray.

Music crackled faintly from Nino's phone, tinny against the rush of the falls. It wasn't good quality, but it was loud enough for him to hop into the middle of the clearing, one hand in the air, hips jerking off-beat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, popping his shoulders dramatically, "you are about to witness the art form of our time."

Ivan groaned, biting into a sandwich. "Selene, save us."

Adrien burst into laughter as Nino dropped low, moving in a wild dance that was part hip-hop and something else entirely. Jules shook his head, a smirk on his face, clearly amused by the spectacle before him.

"Come on, Luka!" Nino called, wagging a finger at him. "Don't just sulk on the rocks. Live a little."

Luka should've ignored it, should've stayed sitting. But his lips tugged despite himself as Nino spun in a circle, nearly fell, and then popped his chest with so much intensity it looked painful. Ivan was shaking his head, but even he was smiling.

Against every instinct, Luka laughed. Just once, but enough to loosen something in his chest. For a moment, the weight of the mark wasn't crushing him. The night wasn't calm, but it was ridiculous, alive, his friends carrying him along whether he wanted it or not.

A flash of white flickered on the edge of his vision.

His smile faltered. His eyes narrowed, tracking the movement. A whimper carried faintly over the roar of the falls.

"Luka!" Adrien's voice cut through. He turned just in time to see Nino popping his hips like a man possessed, the others howling with laughter.

"Your turn!" Nino shouted, pointing at him. "Don't be shy, man. I'll even give you lessons!"

Luka smirked faintly, but his eyes drifted back toward the bushes. The sound came again, sharper this time, more desperate.

He stood, brushing off his hands. The laughter behind him blurred into background noise as he approached the trees. Branches shifted, and for a heartbeat, two golden eyes flickered back at him before the blur of white bolted into the forest.

Instinct overrode thought; Luka was on his feet in seconds, heart hammering as he gave chase.

The forest swallowed him whole. His boots pounded the damp earth, branches clawing at his sleeves as he cut through undergrowth. The white blur darted just ahead, too quick to catch, weaving through ferns and roots like it had run these paths a hundred times.

Luka slowed, breathing hard, scanning the clearing. His eyes caught movement near the ground, as wet moss curved and flowers bent. His eyes spotted a furry ball of fluff, trembling with streaks of dirt around its paw. The pup huddled in the corner, its small body trembling. A soft whimper escaped its lips, barely audible, as it cast worried eyes around the room.

Luka's chest tightened. The pup's soft green eyes met his own.

He tilted his head, lowering himself further, his voice little more than a hum. A low, soothing hum vibrated from deep within him, a gentle promise that wrapped around those nearby, a sound that whispered safety in the stillness.

The pup stilled, its tiny body quivering as it inched forward, nose dancing in the air. Luka held his breath, every muscle taut with anticipation. When the pup finally reached him, he scooped it up, feeling the softness of its fur against his skin.

As the pup's breathing steadied against him, Luka exhaled — a small, private sound that didn't belong to fear or fury anymore, but something gentler. He didn't name it. He just let it stay.

"Hey," Luka murmured, softer than he meant to. His eyes softened, his breath evening out with the pup's.

The laughter carried faintly through the trees, the boys still yelling at Nino's dancing. Luka glanced back, then looked down at the pup curled against him. Its small body shivered, but it didn't try to pull away.

Luka turned back toward the glow of firelight and music at the lake, one arm wrapped firmly around the tiny wolf pressed to his chest.

The boys still howled at Nino's ridiculous one-handed dance when Luka broke through the tree line. Their laughter fell off in stutters as they noticed what he carried.

"What the—" Adrien started, his voice pitching low with alarm.

Ivan was already on his feet, eyes narrowing. "Is that... a pup?"

The little wolf stirred at the sudden noise, ears twitching. Luka changed his hold, murmuring something low to keep it calm. Its green eyes blinked open again, glancing around before tucking its head back against his chest.

Nino's jaw dropped. "Dude. That's not just a stray. That's somebody's kid."

Roan stood too, running a hand through his hair, tension replacing his usual calm. "He's right. No pack just lets their young wander. If anyone sees us with him, it could look like—"

"Like we stole him," Jules finished, his voice edged tight.

The air around them tightened, an electric tension replacing the easy banter in an instant. Everyone was painfully aware of the stories. Wolves didn't just play with their young; they fought fiercely to protect them. Packs had gone to war over far less, and the threat loomed larger than ever.

Adrien stood with his arms crossed and let out a sigh. "Instead of panicking and thinking the worst, why don't we look at this as an opportunity to be heroic wolves who saved a wandering pup?"

Jules and Roan exchanged glances before raising their eyebrows at Adrien, considering their options. "Can't argue with that," Roan said, smiling.

"Yeah," Luka chimed in. "I wouldn't dare leave the little guy out here by himself." He adjusted his grip on the pup, holding it closer to his chest.

Ivan stepped forward, glancing between Luka and the tiny wolf. "So, what's your plan?"

"I'll bring him back to the dorms," Luka said firmly. "We can check the internet to see if anyone's posted about a missing pup. If his pack is looking for him, it'll be there."

The pup whimpered softly against his chest, and Luka absentmindedly rubbed a thumb over its damp fur.

Nino's eyes darted between the others. "Man, I don't know. This is how horror stories start. A pup goes missing, and next thing you know, the other pack's ready to rip down our doors."

Adrien sighed, running a hand down his face. "Nino, relax. Luka's right. We can't just leave him here. If something happens to him before his family finds him, that's on us."

For a moment, no one spoke. The falls roared in the distance, and the pup's soft whining filled the silence between them. Luka shifted his grip and, almost instinctively, held the little wolf out toward Nino. "Here," he muttered.

The puppy's ears twitched, and a low growl rumbled from its tiny chest as Nino reached for it. 

Nino froze, his eyes wide. "Uh... dude. He's only six inches tall and already hates me." 

Adrien held out his hands instead. "Alright, maybe he'll—"

The pup snapped its tiny teeth, a warning that made Adrien jerk his hand back.
Roan chuckled from where he sat on the rocks, his grin sharp in the moonlight. "Looks like you just got promoted, man — big brother duty."

Luka shot him a flat look. "I already have a little sister. I don't need another sibling."

The pup wriggled closer, tucking itself into the curve of Luka's collar with a quiet huff — as if claiming him on the spot.