Wolfgrove Academy

Chapter 3

Wren takes a deep breath in. She doesn't touch her uniform again. This one fits perfectly. It is almost like it was made for her. As her stepmother said, there really are a lack of females within the school. So the fact that they had a full female uniform in her exact size was pretty unbelievable, but she didn't question it, just thankful for the lucky break and the fact that she was able to easily order more.

By the time all the drama unfolded, the entire school day has lapsed and the point of the uniform is completely redundant.

Wren feels like it would be easier if she had a class to go to. Then she would be able to ease into the situation when there is a teacher involved, when she doesn't have to speak, she just sits there and listens.

But now that she's here, she is not about to waste another minute. It has been four years since she has last seen the boys that she considered her brothers. They were her family and even to this day, after she got taken back to her so-called family, she still considers them brothers. Not a word has been spoken. Not a single bit of correspondence in all that time.

She was told so many times to forget about them, but she never did, all three holding a special place in her heart. That is the prospect that scares her the most. What if they have changed so much? What if they have forgotten all about her?

What if all that once was, is now lost?

What if the family she is holding in her heart has disbanded? She is scared that the fond memories will be taken over by hatred, alienation and indifference.

Wren does not need to call upon her wolf to find the three boys. She knows exactly where they will be, unless everything has truly changed. If they have changed their spot, she fears that all hope is truly lost.

She couldn't call on her wolf even if she wanted to. She has no idea what their scents are now. She has only had her wolf for a couple of months. Even if she could recall their scent, theirs would have changed after they got their own wolves.

Wren walks down the labyrinth of corridors, the spaces becoming less populated as she walks, the decor is not quite as luxurious, everything just a little shabbier, the corridors narrow but still she weaves in deeper. Four years is nothing when it comes to getting to this place. The directions are burned in her memory.

Finally, Wren arrives at a doorway, she takes a deep breath in, her stomach is twisting and churning, she has a fine layer of perspiration on her forehead, she tries to calm herself. Wolves can smell fear and she is about to deliver herself into a den of wolves.

She takes a deep calming breath, wiping her forehead with her sleeve, she takes off her jacket and places it over her arm, she wants to have somewhere to hide her hands, she wants to have something to do so she doesn’t truly have to think about how scary this situation is. This outcome could make or break her.

She lifts her hand and slowly opens the door handle.

Inside, three men sit on tattered old sofas. The walls are solid concrete, they have a white granular texture as veins of white run the expanse from the salt damp. The area is the roughest in the entire school, the place never touched by renovations or even basic maintenance, long forgotten by the administration.

There is a large television sitting on a rickety stand, the only sign of modern technology in the place. The screen remains black. The only sound comes from a small Bluetooth speaker playing punk music at a very low decibel in the corner of the room.

The area is cold, untouched by color except for a large canvas on one wall. On the canvas are four figures with bright smiles, arms around shoulders, the best of best friends. In the middle of the canvas stands a fourteen year old girl, her entire face is lit up with the most brilliant smile, a set of straight white teeth offset by healthy tanned skin, a set of azure eyes are brimming with joy as three large boys surround her, the top of her head barely scraping the tops of their shoulders but in the print all the faces are at the same level, the boys stooped heavily to accommodate their short best friend.

An amazing picture of pure friendship, a bond so tight that it looked like nothing could ever tear them apart, but something did and it was a lot easier than they ever could have believed.

A pair of slate gray eyes staring blankly at his phone suddenly sharpen, his head tilts to the side as he listens, his breathing quickly changing as he takes in the scent of the intruder.

"Someone is here"

The boys are so rarely disturbed in this place, no one ever bothers them down here, they are forgotten about as much as the space. Three sets of sharp eyes stare at the set of rickety wooden steps.

The sound of the light footfalls echo in the empty space, the music has been turned off, all they can hear is the creak of the stairs as the timber groans against the pressure, they wait for the stairs to break every single day. The aged timber has seen too many large bodies over too many years.

The boys take a collective deep breath in as they view the small foot wrapped in a black leather shoe. The scent hits them all at the same time. It is divine, a hint of vanilla, a dash of caramel, a very feminine scent.

Three sets of eyes widen, one slate gray, one violet and one emerald, as the woman on the stairs reveals herself, descending the final four steps in their full view. Long, straight, pitch-black hair cascades around her shoulders, even in the low light of the dingy room, her hair has a sheen that none other can compare to. She turns in front of them, she is a lot more pale than when she left, but she is very much the same, maybe a little more beautiful than before, her azure eyes are just as sharp as ever as she scrutinizes the three.

Wren’s heart beats faster as she looks at the three. They are all more handsome than she remembers, the large canvas above their heads truly highlighting that her memory was not far from reality, but the grown men in front of her, it is hard to believe that only four years have passed, they have grown, they have matured, their features that carried that boyish charm before, are now oozing masculine charm, there is facial hair where there are never was any, their features have sharpened, becoming more distinguished, their figures have nearly doubled in size, going from the little skinny boys she left behind to the full grown alpha-blooded males that sit in front of her now.

She meets a pair of emerald eyes, seeing the anticipation in them at first which fades to disappointment, it is only a flicker of all those emotions in only a split second, but Wren catches it all. The emerald eyes are filled with excitement as they look at the woman in front of him. He hoped for a moment, that she would be his mate. He always held out hope.

"Griffin"

Wren’s voice is soft and it is close to breaking. She thought she was prepared, but nothing could prepare her for this. Griffin offers a guilty smile as he plays with the arm of the tattered sofa, his maroon-colored hair falling over his eyes, hiding him away. He doesn’t dare to stare into those beautiful azure eyes too long, he thought it was bad looking at the canvas, but seeing her in the flesh just brings it all back.

Wren’s eyes move to meet a set of violet eyes. She sees the same regret that she saw in Griffin’s but he covers it over much faster, there is such sadness there. He looks so much different to how she remembers him. She never expected to see such an expression on his face, he was always the happy one, the one that was always smiling, the one that was always laughing, he was the glue that held the group together. He runs a hand through his thick blonde hair.

What Wren struggles to understand is that he may have been the glue that held the group together, but she was the wrap that restrained any bits from fraying, she was the light, the reinforcement that they needed.

"Zero"

Zero offers her a half smile, the relief of her standing there, unscathed, as beautiful as ever and…..in her school uniform, is something he can’t even describe.

Wren’s eyes move to a set of sharp eyes, the slate-gray eyes are as deep and piercing as ever, there is not a flicker of emotion, once again he is unreadable. Wren’s eyes search his face, her breathing falters and her heartbeat changes, her eyes flicker as she looks at the scar that runs from just above the outer corner of his eye to halfway down his cheek, suddenly all the words that she wanted to say are asphyxiating her, that one mark that tiny imperfection in the flawless face is enough to silence her. The one word burns as it exits her mouth.

"Steele"