The early morning mist clung to the sprawling grounds of Phoenix Drop High, curling around the stone buildings and the dense line of pines bordering the campus. The scent of wet earth mingled with the crisp air, and faint growls and howls echoed from the forest edge, a natural warning to anyone not paying attention: this wasn’t a normal school. Students moved with a mix of casual confidence and subtle alertness, their sharp senses always on, every shadow a potential test of speed, strength, or instinct.

Aaron Lycan strode through the courtyard, hoodie unzipped, revealing the broad, sculpted chest beneath, dark brown hair slightly mussed from an early jog, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. At 6’3”, his frame was imposing even for a Lycan, a natural alpha presence. Every student he passed instinctively stepped aside; not out of fear, but respect. Aaron didn’t ask for it. He carried the authority like it was part of him—something instinctual, honed over years of training, survival, and leadership.

Garroth was the first to notice him, waving frantically from the fountain where he balanced on the edge, notebook in hand. “Aaron! You’re early again!” Garroth called, a mix of awe and exasperation in his tone. Aaron smirked, letting his canine instincts subtly sharpen his focus. “Gotta keep the pack in line,” he replied smoothly, voice calm but layered with that natural edge only a Lycan could carry. He approached, shoulders rolling, every step deliberate, controlled.

Dante bounded up next, energy practically vibrating around him as usual. “Lycan, man, you ever take a day off?” he joked, but there was an underlying respect for Aaron’s efficiency. Aaron’s grin was sharp, teasing, but his posture and eyes warned: I’m always ready. “Rest is for when the pack’s safe,” he said simply. “You know the rules—control yourself, or you’ll get bit in more ways than one.” Dante laughed, understanding the warning wasn’t just metaphorical.

Lauren approached from the library steps, notebook clutched tightly, dark hair framing her face, eyes cautious but always curious. “Aaron, are you actually going to train the new students today? You’re supposed to be easing them in, not scaring them half to death,” she said, voice steady but with an edge of teasing. Aaron’s sharp blue eyes softened ever so slightly at her tone, but his stance remained commanding. “Easing them in gets people killed, Lauren. You train them right, or they’re lunch for the wrong pack. I don’t mess around,” he said, tone neutral, but the authority in it was undeniable.

Blaze leaned casually against the stone railing, headphones around his neck, smirk wide. “Man, you’re intense even before the first bell,” he called, voice loud enough to draw a few glances. Aaron tilted his head, grin low and dangerous. “Better to be intense than dead,” he said, his voice carrying the subtle threat only a Lycan could make believable without moving a muscle. Blaze only laughed, but the respect was clear.

The courtyard buzzed with the energy unique to Phoenix Drop High—a werewolf school where every student knew they weren’t just learning math, science, or literature. They were learning control, instinct, and power. And Aaron Lycan, alpha-born, trained, and practiced, was the living example of what that control looked like. His senses picked up on every subtle movement: Garroth’s fidget, Dante’s anticipation, Blaze’s minor scheming, Lauren’s careful calculations. Nothing escaped him.

By lunch, the group had naturally assembled under the oaks near the forest edge. Aaron scanned the area first, ears subconsciously twitching at distant movements, nostrils flaring at scents humans couldn’t detect. “Alright, team,” he said finally, voice calm but layered with authority, “remember what I told you. Stay aware, trust your instincts, protect the pack, and don’t do anything reckless. And Blaze—try not to start a chain reaction this time.”