A tall and regal woman with grey-streaked black hair pulled into a severe bun swept in.
Her eyes surveyed the hall as she continued to the podium. Beside her was a small, ferrety man in wire-rimmed glasses, clutching a clipboard to his chest like a shield. He had a golden tag on his cardigan that read "Admission Specialist."
The hall fell into absolute silence.
When the woman and the admission specialist had settled in front of the hall, the woman came closer and swept her gaze one last time across the room.
"All newly admitted students, stand!" she barked.
Chairs scraped as everyone hurriedly rose to their feet. I stood slowly, the black jacket still lying beside me. Rhett gave me a wink before letting go and rising with a lazy stretch.
Wait! He was also a newly admitted student like me?
Kael remained standing, too, but I was sure he wasn’t a new student.
"Welcome to Ravenshore," the woman started coldly. "You’re here because your parents believe you have what it takes to become an Alpha and rise to the league of those who serve in the prestigious palace of the Alpha King. We are here to prove them wrong."
She paused, as if she wanted the words to sink into our skulls.
"For all the newly admitted students, your evaluation begins now. Those who prove worthy will join the ranks of Ravenshore’s elite after successfully passing the probation stage. Those who fail the first test today..." Her lips thinned. "Well, the train runs twice daily. Good luck!"
She stepped back, and the admission specialist came forward.
But before he started speaking, the door of the hall opened again, and four burly men in black tactical gear strode into the hall. Their presence seemed to heat the room.
"Sentinel guards," the girl in front of me breathed. "They only bring the Sentinels when someone’s about to be expelled... or when they’ve caught an identity thief."
My mouth went dry. Around me, students exchanged nervous glances. I began to sweat profusely.
The admission specialist came forward and scanned the room with the same energy used to examine a lineup of suspects.
"Before we begin the formal orientation," he announced, "we must complete one final step in the admission process. Verification."
"Recently," the man continued, we’ve discovered an alarming trend of falsified admission letters. Beta sons pretending to be Alpha-born. A few Omegas, too – sneaking in through dead connections and forged seals."
Murmurs rippled through the hall as several students shifted uncomfortably, but I remained perfectly still, afraid the slightest movement from me might give me away.
Rhett leaned towards me, "Bet, they’re shaking in their boots."
I didn’t respond. My heart was pounding so wildly that I was afraid it might jump out of my throat. The words forgery and falsehood rang in my ears like a curse.
The Admission Specialist adjusted his glasses and opened the clipboard. "After carefully reviewing the submission list, I will now announce the names that have passed our initial vetting process. I will call out names and the corresponding pack. These students will proceed to the next phase of admission."
My palms had grown slick with sweat. Of course, I was one of the students who forged her documents, down to my birth certificate; there was no doubt my name was there. What would happen to me now?
"Rhett Thatcher, Ravenspire Pack."
Beside me, Rhett smirked and raised his hand, murmuring. "As if there was any doubt."
Nikolai Davis, ShadowMoon Pack."
Another boy in front of me raised his hand. One by one, the Admission Specialist called out the names until he came to the end.
"These students," the specialist announced, "have all passed the first stage of vetting. Now, I will call out the names of those who attempted to apply with forged documents."
My nails dug into my palms.
This was it. I was done. Caught and dragged back to my father in chains, forced to marry Darian Blackmoor. It was over.
"Brayden Mirth, falsely claiming Alpha status."
A burly boy near the front row paled, taking an involuntary step back.
"Devon Martinez, no pack affiliation–fraudulent bloodline."
One by one, the specialist called out the names of the students who had forged their documents. Each time he called their names, a sentinel would move among the crowd and fish out the students.
The list continued, but my name wasn’t on it. I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. I was floating. My breath hitched in my chest, refusing to move freely. Why hadn’t he called my name yet? Why wasn’t my name on that list?
When the specialist finally looked up, my heart slammed against my chest. He peered over his glasses once more.
"If you did not hear your name called on either list," he said, "raise your hand now. If you don’t, rest assured – we will still fish you out."
I just stood there, contemplating. Should I raise my hand? Draw attention to myself? Or remain silent and hope for a miracle?
Before I could decide, the doors at the back of the hall opened again.
A middle-aged man dressed in the colours of the Academy rushed in, his face flushed from running. He hurried onto the stage toward the Admission specialist and leaned in, whispering something into the Admission specialist’s ear before thrusting a crumpled paper into his hand.
The specialist’s eyes widened slightly before he turned to whisper to the headmistress. She frowned, then gave a nod of approval.
Unfolding the paper carefully, the specialist cleared his throat once more. "It seems we have one final name," he announced. "Who is Eamon Riggs? Come to the stage now."
For a moment, I just stared, without hearing anything.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My entire body had gone numb with shock.
"Hey," Rhett touched my elbow, his hazel eyes showing genuine concern. "Isn’t that the name on your tag? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
But that wasn’t what had frozen me in place. It was the figure now walking onto the stage from the side door of the hall’s podium towards the admission specialist – a face I never thought I’d see again.
Slater. Slater Riggs.
The same strong jaw. The same broad shoulders. The same confident stride that had once made my heart race for entirely different reasons. He looked older, harder somehow, but unmistakably him.
The father of my dead child. My ex-mate. The man I’d been told was dead.
And now, somehow, he was here – at the Academy I’d fled to for sanctuary, bearing the surname and pack affiliation of the boy I was impersonating.
"Eamon Riggs?" the admission specialist thundered again. "Come forward now!"
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
"I am Riggs from Duskveil Pack – Slater Riggs," he announced when he reached the admission specialist, and I think someone is trying to impersonate me."
As Slater spoke, his green eyes scanned the crowd slowly, as though they were searching for something or someone.
For a terrible, heart-stopping moment, his gaze seemed to land directly on me. A flicker of...something...crossed his features. Recognition? Confusion? Anger?
Then his eyes moved on, continuing their sweep of the hall.
"Don’t make me ask again," the specialist warned, his knuckles whitening around his clipboard. "Eamon Riggs, step forward immediately or face expulsion before you’ve even begun!"
Rhett nudged me gently. "Hey, new kid. That’s you. Better go up there."
"Interesting," followed a cold voice beside me. I turned to find pale blue eyes studying me with raised brows. It was Kael. "Two students. Same surname. Same Pack. What are the odds?"
Before I could respond, he raised his hand. "Excuse me," he called out, "But there seems to be some confusion. We have another Riggs down here."
Every head in the hall turned toward me, including Slater’s.
I swallowed hard, my legs felt like lead as I forced myself to move, just before one of the Sentinels started coming towards me.
Each step toward the stage felt like walking through quicksand – toward the man I’d once loved, the man who should have been dead, the man who now stood between me and my freedom.
As I approached, Slater was staring at me with the usual blankness in his eyes. Did he recognise me beneath my disguise? Or was he simply curious about the boy who shared his surname? And who he thinks might be impersonating him?
When I reached the admissions specialist, he looked between us; a frown on his face. "Well? Which of you is the real Riggs?"
The past I’d fled had found me, and it was waiting for my answer.