The Meat Market

Aria.

The academy gates look like teeth. Black iron, sharpened to cruel points, glinting under a perpetually gray sky. I clutch the strap of my worn bag, the cheap pleather digging into my shoulder. The air here is thick, heavy with the scent of power, old money, and something predatory simmering just beneath the surface.

My new home. Obsidian Moon Academy. It was my pack’s last-ditch effort to save face, sending one of their own to the most prestigious school in the territories on a half-funded scholarship. They called it an honor. It feels like a death sentence.

I find my dorm room, number 2B, at the end of a long, dim hallway. The door is already ajar. I push it open and step into a lion’s den.

Three girls are already inside. One sits perched on a plush velvet chair, filing her perfect nails. She smells of expensive rosewater and disdain. Another stands beside her, a smug look on her face, her scent a mimicry of the first girl’s, but weaker.

The third girl, sitting on a simple cot that must be mine, offers a small, hesitant smile. “You must be Aria.”

“That’s me,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper.

“I’m Milla,” she says, standing up. “Don’t mind them. That’s Camille, and that’s her shadow, Brina.”

Camille doesn’t look up. “Did you say something, Milla? I thought I heard a mouse squeak.”

Brina snickers. “I think it’s the new charity case. She smells like damp earth and desperation.”

My cheeks burn. I drop my bag by the empty bed. It lands with a soft thud. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep my desperation off your rug.”

Camille finally lowers her nail file, her violet eyes pinning me in place. They’re the color of a winter storm. “It has a mouth. How quaint. Just try to remember your place here, stray.”

“Leave her alone, Camille,” Milla says, her voice gaining a little strength. “She just got here.”

“I’m just giving her fair warning,” Camille purrs, standing and stretching like a cat. “The weak get eaten alive here. It’s best she learns that sooner rather than later.”

She glides past me, her shoulder brushing mine intentionally. The sheer force of her Alpha lineage makes me flinch. Brina follows, giving me a nasty shove as she passes.

“Watch it, mutt,” she sneers.

When the door clicks shut behind them, Milla lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about them. They’re… well, they’re exactly what they seem like.”

“Highborn Alphas,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “I figured.”

“The highest,” Milla confirms. “Camille is practically royalty. She used to date the Prince.”

“The Prince?”

“Prince Ronin. You’ll see him at the assembly. You can’t miss him,” she says, a strange mix of awe and fear in her voice. “He has this aura… it’s suffocating.”

“Great,” I mutter, sinking onto the lumpy mattress. “Another reason to keep my head down.”

“That’s the best advice anyone can give you here,” Milla agrees, her eyes serious. “Just stay invisible. You’ll be fine.”

The assembly hall is a vast, gothic chamber with vaulted ceilings and banners bearing the crests of the founding packs. The air is electric, humming with the contained power of hundreds of werewolves. I stick close to Milla, trying to follow her advice and make myself small.

“See?” Milla whispers, nudging me. “Up there. On the stage.”

I follow her gaze to a group of students seated behind the podium. In the center is a young man with hair as black as a moonless night and eyes that seem to absorb all the light in the room. Prince Ronin. He isn’t looking at the crowd; he’s staring at his nails with an expression of profound boredom, as if we are all insects beneath his notice.

Even from here, I can feel the oppressive weight of his power. It’s a physical presence, a pressure against my sternum that makes it hard to breathe.

Headmaster Valerius drones on from the podium, his words about honor, strength, and legacy lost in the sheer intimidation radiating from the stage. I tune him out, focusing on just breathing.

“And now,” Valerius concludes with a grand smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “I will leave you to your own orientation. Welcome to Obsidian Moon.”

He steps down, and the faculty members file out of the hall without a backward glance. A low murmur ripples through the student body. The air shifts, growing thicker, more menacing.

“What’s going on?” I ask Milla, my heart starting to pound.

“The real welcome,” she whispers back, her face pale. “Stay quiet. Don’t look at anyone.”

A group of older students, all broad-shouldered and radiating pure Alpha dominance, moves to the center of the hall. They prowl through the crowd of younger students, their eyes scanning, searching.

“There’s a good one,” one of them says, his voice a low growl. He points at a small, terrified-looking girl cowering near the edge of the crowd.

Two of his friends grab her, dragging her into the open space. She whimpers, trying to pull away.

“No, please,” she cries, her voice thin and reedy. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything right, either,” the leader says with a cruel smile. He circles her like a shark. “You’re new. You’re weak. And we’ve had a very stressful first day.”

My blood runs cold. I can’t tear my eyes away. This is happening in front of everyone. Hundreds of students are watching. No one is moving. No one is helping.

“Let her go,” I whisper, my hands clenched into fists.

Milla’s hand clamps down on my arm like a vice. “Don’t, Aria. Do not get involved. This is the way it is.”

The Alpha leader leans down and sniffs the girl’s neck. She freezes, paralyzed with terror. “She’ll do. A perfect little toy for our stress relief.”

Laughter ripples through the upperclassmen. The girl starts to sob openly, her body trembling.

“It’s tradition,” another Alpha calls out from the crowd. “Helps the pups learn the hierarchy.”

I look toward the stage. Prince Ronin is watching now, his bored expression replaced by a look of detached amusement. He catches my eye for a split second, and a cold, knowing smirk touches his lips before he looks away, dismissing both me and the scene below him as utterly insignificant.

The Alphas start dragging the girl toward the doors of the assembly hall. Her pleas echo in the cavernous space.

“This is the meat market, Aria,” Milla says, her voice a ghost of a whisper in my ear, her grip on my arm painfully tight. “You are either a predator or you are prey.”

The heavy oak doors slam shut, cutting off the girl’s cries. A chilling silence descends upon the hall.

“Welcome to Obsidian Moon Academy,” Milla finishes, her voice hollow. “Try to survive.”