Chapter 5: When Devils Arrive
The golden halls of Apex Academy were polished with expensive marble floors that felt like glass if you walked on them, chandeliers that screamed pure luxury, their bright shiny light glistening down the hallways and reaching up high to ceilings that at some points were invisible. Once you stepped in, you'd know this place wasn't for the ordinary. It wasn't about having money or wealth to be here; it was majorly about power, and this was just a tiny inch of how magnificent this place was. But all that glittering beauty meant nothing when you remembered that behind those walls, lives were decided like pieces on a chess board.
The selection room, a place where lives were being changed and poor people had a chance at this powerful academy that was originally built for the powerful, would now be a part of it.
Around the room were eight council chairs, four on each side, and sitting on them were people who were in charge of the selection. But deep down, their voices meant nothing. Even though they were in control of the school, true power lay elsewhere.
At the head of the room, three chairs sat like thrones, each one carved from bones of wolves themselves. They were wolves who died during the Great War, and using their bones to carve thrones was to prove a point—that werewolves still ruled over humans.
The Apex Alphas.
A large bright screen displayed each individual's applications as they scanned through the application reports.
"Another boring year," muttered Dean Matteo, shuffling through a stack of applications with the enthusiasm of someone attending their funeral. "Look at this: 'I will bring honor to the Apex, serve the academy with distinction, blah blah blah.' Do they all use the same damn template?"
Professor Sterling nodded, adjusting her glasses as she scanned another perfectly written essay. "This one's father donated half a million to the new training facility. Automatic acceptance, I suppose."
"Money talks louder than talent these days," grumbled the Dean, stamping another application with the golden "ACCEPTED" seal.
The massive door slid open, and everyone turned to stare at who had just walked in, but it wasn't a he—it was a they, because instantly, the aura in the room changed, and it felt like the energy in the room had been sucked out.
Two figures stepped out from the door, the lights blinding their forms for a few seconds as they both scanned the room, their eyes predatory, instantly looking for a defect.
Nikolas Nightshade entered first, his dark hair catching the light like midnight silk. Everything about him screamed danger, from the way his gray eyes surveyed the room like a predator to how other faculty members automatically stepped back when he passed. He controlled the Northern packs, one of the most deadly regions ever known in history.
A smirk passed through his lips as he crossed the dean's table. The fear spreading through the poor man almost made him chuckle.
Behind him came Dante Embercrest, his golden hair shining perfectly under the chandeliers. He looked so perfect, like the moon goddess had taken a lot of time to create him. His huge form towered over almost everyone in the room as he walked toward his chair, smirking with confidence. Where Nikolas was ice, Dante was fire—literally. The Southern pack heir had a reputation for burning things when he got bored, which happened often. His eyes were one of a kind, yellowish with a vertical silver slit that makes you fall right in and get trapped instantly.
"Apex Alphas," Dean Blackwood cleared his throat nervously. "Thank you for joining us for this year's Selection. As always, your... input... is greatly appreciated."
Nikolas waved a dismissive hand. "Let's get this over with. I have better things to do than read about poor little princesses and their cumbersome lives."
"Agreed," Dante stretched lazily, flames dancing around his fingertips out of boredom. "Though I do enjoy watching them squirm when they realize money can't buy them everything."
Dante was never one to support his rival Nikolas, but he hated participating in this sort of event. Still, it was an obligation—he had to present himself and make approvals and disapprovals with his rivals, whom they needed to let into the Academy.
This had been a custom for years, passed down from alpha to alphas, then he looked at the empty chair in the middle and frowned, a storm suddenly brewing within him.
"Who the fuck does Khellon think he is, standing us up when he's meant to be here?"
Dante sneered, his voice causing the human dean council and the seven other members to cower in fear. No one liked it when any of the Apex Alphas was angry, especially Dante.
He had a thing for burning down things when he blew up.
"Perhaps it's good that he isn't here, trying to overshadow you and show you that he has more territories than you. After all, you don't like him."
Nikolas replied, totally nonchalant about the impending doom about to happen and not giving a fuck about the fear on the dean's face, whose beads of sweat were already dripping down.
"He's meant to be here..."
But the door opened when Dante was still speaking, and someone walked in. The first thing that caught the light was his hair—calm turquoise hair that shone so brightly. The moment he stepped into the room, it seemed like every heartbeat of the council members stopped for a second as they watched him step into the room. His aura screamed danger, dominance, and that feeling that made you want to succumb to death itself.
"And here comes the devil himself."
Dante said, glaring at him as he watched his rival walk into the room. But Nikolas chuckled, watching the two people he considered brothers glare at each other like it was some sort of war.
Everyone knew Khellon Fenrir was the most handsome among all—a sharp jaw that could slice like a knife and a tall form so muscular that you could see his build almost ripping out from his shirt. His frame was a lean…perhaps a muscular build that made him so appealing, but still, his form couldn't beat that of Nikolas.
They were all hot loads of Greek gods built from fire itself, but darker than you could imagine. But no one was darker than Khellon, and as such, no one dared approach him except the other Apex Alphas. He ruled both the western and eastern packs—one reason Dante despised him so much.
"How dare you come late?"
Dante sneered at him, but Khellon ignored him as he sat on the middle throne proudly, his expression colder than the rest. His turquoise eyes, which matched his hair, nonchalantly looked at Dante, and with that same cold expression:
"I am never late, Dante."