ZOE

The morning air carries the scent of dew and fresh earth as I slip into the car beside Amy. She'd already claimed the front passenger seat, of course—her usual power play to establish dominance over what she considers "her" territory.

"Take the scenic route, William," Amy commands the driver with the authority of someone born to privilege. "I want to arrive fashionably late."

William glances at me in the rearview mirror, uncertainty flickering in his weathered eyes. He's been with our family for fifteen years, long enough to know who really gives the orders.

I lean forward with a warm smile. "The usual route is fine, William. How's your granddaughter's recovery going?"

His face brightens instantly. "Much better, Miss Zoe. The medicine you recommended worked wonders. She's back to running around the house like nothing happened."

"I'm so glad to hear that." I settle back in my seat, genuinely pleased. In my past life, I'd been too absorbed in my Chris obsession to notice the people who actually cared about my well-being.

Amy's jaw tightens at being ignored, her fingers drumming impatiently against the door handle. The frustrated energy rolling off her is almost tangible, but I don't spare her a glance. Let her stew in her own insignificance.

The Werewolf Academy's imposing stone towers come into view, their gothic spires piercing the morning mist. Students stream through the wrought-iron gates in small clusters, their conversations creating a low buzz of anticipation for another day of classes and social maneuvering.

The moment I step foot on campus, I feel it—the weight of dozens of eyes tracking my movement. Whispered conversations die as I pass, replaced by poorly concealed snickers and pointed stares.

Someone holds up their phone, displaying a humiliating photo from my past—me practically throwing myself at Chris's feet, eyes bright with desperate adoration. The image has been circulating through social media for months, a constant reminder of my former foolishness.

"Look, it's the wolfless wonder," someone mutters loud enough for me to hear.

"I heard she made an even bigger fool of herself yesterday with Chris."

"Alpha blood means nothing without a wolf to back it up."

Near the fountain, Jack Smith is surrounded by a cluster of his usual followers, money changing hands as they place bets. I catch fragments of their conversation, something about when my "cat-and-mouse game" with Chris will finally end, how long before I completely humiliate myself again.

Their words bounce off me like rain on glass. I've heard worse. I've lived worse.

I make my way to my usual spot in the courtyard, pulling out a leather-bound book on advanced combat theory. The familiar weight of knowledge in my hands is infinitely more comforting than any of their meaningless opinions.

"Well, well," a voice drawls from above. "If it isn't our resident charity case."

Jack Smith looms over me, his broad frame blocking out the morning sun. At nineteen, he's already earned his Junior Warrior Medal, the youngest in academy history and he never lets anyone forget it. His followers spread out behind him like a pack of hyenas sensing blood.

The bronze medal glints on his chest, catching the light with each of his deliberately intimidating movements. In my past life, I would have cowered. I would have mumbled apologies and tried to make myself invisible.

Not anymore. I turn the page of my book without looking up.

"Good morning, Jack. I see you're still compensating for your lack of intelligence with brute force."

His face darkens, the casual arrogance shifting into something more dangerous. "What did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry, was that too many syllables? Let me simplify: you're all muscle, no brain."

Gasps rippled through the growing crowd of onlookers. No one talks to Jack that way. No one.

"You little—" Jack takes a threatening step forward, his aura flaring with barely contained aggression.

"Having trouble with the locals?" Amy's voice cuts through the tension like honey over broken glass. She glides into view with Chris at her side, her arm threaded possessively through his. Her expression is the picture of concerned innocence, but I catch the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

Chris barely glances in my direction, his attention focused on some distant point beyond the crowd. His indifference cuts deeper than any insult Jack could throw at me.

I close my book and stand slowly, my movements deliberate and controlled. The memory of my master's teachings flows through me like warm honey—lessons I'd abandoned in my foolish pursuit of a man who never deserved me.

"Strength without discipline is just violence, Zoe. But discipline without strength is useless. You must have both."

Master Ryan had tried to teach me so much more than combat techniques. He'd tried to teach me self-respect, strategic thinking, and the art of reading people's true intentions. I'd thrown it all away for Chris's fleeting attention.

The biggest mistake of my past life. Mater Ryan disappeared after being disappointed in me.

"You know what, Jack?" I say, my voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent courtyard.

"I'm tired of listening to you run your mouth about how superior you are."

Power begins to emanate from me. The crowd takes an unconscious step back as my alpha aura fills the space between us.

Jack's eyes widen in genuine surprise.

I point directly at the medal adorning his chest. "You're so proud of that little piece of bronze. Tell you what, let's make this interesting. You and me, a proper challenge. When I win, that medal becomes mine."

The courtyard erupts in shocked murmurs. Someone in the crowd actually laughs out loud.

Jack's surprise quickly transforms into cruel amusement. "You? Challenge me? You don't even have a wolf, princess. What are you going to do, throw your textbooks at me?"

"Are you accepting or not?" I keep my voice level, unimpressed by his posturing. "Unless you're afraid that the academy's golden boy might lose to a 'wolfless wonder.'"

His face flushes red at the implied cowardice. Around us, students are already pulling out their phones, eager to record what they assume will be my humiliation.

"Fine," Jack snarls, his pride overriding his common sense. "But when I'm done with you, you'll crawl out of here on your hands and knees."

I smile, "We'll see about that."