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"Good morning, Principal Jameson," students echoed in the hallway as they passed the austere middle-aged woman, whose heels resounded sharply against the marble floor with a steady click-clack.

"Good morning. Good morning," Principal Jameson answered enthusiastically, her hawk-like eyes sweeping over the students, always on the lookout for any defaulters of the academy's rules. And today, she found more than enough.

A female student was pinned against a locker, her legs wrapped around a male student as they engaged in a passionate kiss.

His hands gripped her butt as he ground against her in full view of the hundreds of students passing by.

The sight was so inappropriate for an institution of learning that Principal Jameson's face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Despite her anger, Principal Jameson approached them calmly, knocking lightly on the locker next to them to get their attention.

But they didn't budge. Or rather, they pretended not to hear her, the girl moaning louder, almost deliberately, as if to provoke her further.

"Alright, that's enough!" Principal Jameson banged her fist on the locker, finally breaking them apart. The girl was the first to look up, her face painted with fake surprise.

"I didn't know you were here, Principal Jameson," she lied through her sparkling white teeth, still catching her breath.

The girl was Amanda Raynes, one of the rich, entitled humans. A brat she had to deal with every day.

"I bet you didn't," Jameson said coldly, "Not when your tongue was shoved down his throat." She glanced at the red-haired boy beside her, Griffin Hale, who had yet to say a word.

Amanda giggled, her eyes flashing with amusement. "It was a good 'shove,' though," she teased, casting a sultry look at Griffin.

Jameson flushed with barely contained fury but tried to maintain her composure as she turned to Griffin Hale, a brute standing at six foot two. He was just a kid but was built like a bodybuilder, an edge his werewolf lineage had given him.

Not just that, he was a "special" werewolf. Despite being a student, Griffin Hale carried the aura of someone who could snap you in half if he wanted.

"Mr. Hale," she said, her voice tight, "isn't it a little early for public displays of affection in the middle of the hallway?"

His response was a low, menacing growl. "Fuck off!"

Jameson recoiled, losing her composure for a moment. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

Before she could recover, Griffin continued, "Next time you interrupt me, you better be ready to offer yourself up."

"Mr. Hale!" Principal Jameson gasped, her face reddening in both fury and embarrassment. "That is an entirely inappropriate comment toward your principal!"

She glanced around, hoping no other students had heard, but of course, it was impossible in a school full of werewolves with heightened senses.

Everyone was staring, and she knew this incident would be all over the academy's gossip forums by the end of the day.

To make matters worse, Griffin had already turned his back on her and was walking away.

Desperate to reassert her authority, she shouted, "That's a hundred points deducted for inappropriate behavior, Mr. Hale!"

Griffin didn't even look back, he simply raised a middle finger in response, eliciting laughter from the surrounding students.

"Two hundred points, then!" she snapped, but the punishment seemed meaningless. His arrogance was unbearable, and the students' laughter only deepened her frustration.

This time, Griffin turned around and made a crude gesture, forming a circle with one hand and inserting his finger through it. The vulgar sign sent waves of laughter through the crowd.

Principal Jameson's face burned with humiliation. She wanted to shout more, to hurl further punishment at him, but the sight of students recording the scene on their phones forced her to reconsider.

Trying to salvage what little authority she had left, she turned to the group watching and announced, "Twenty points deducted, each."

Their groans brought her a sliver of satisfaction.

Although it was a hollow victory. Deep down, Jameson knew the truth: she might have power over some of these students, but not all of them—certainly not the cardinal alphas.

They were the kings of the academy, and she was little more than a puppet, trying to manage the chaos beneath them. Her authority only stretched so far.

As if to remind her of this reality, Roman Draven, another cardinal alpha, came hurtling down the hallway on a skateboard, shouting, "Incoming!"

Students scattered out of his way, screaming as he sped past. Even Jameson was forced to step aside, her carefully styled hair whipped by the rush of air as he zoomed by.

"That's it!" she snapped, her temper finally breaking. "Two hundred points for an unsanctioned ride in the hallway, Mr. Draven!"

But Roman did not care. He just laughed, riding away without a care in the world, the sound echoing through the hallway.

Principal Jameson felt her anger dissolve into a simmering helplessness. However, she took a deep breath, straightening her skirt and composing herself. She wouldn't let these entitled brats rattle her.

She was the principal of Lunaris Academy, a position most could only dream of. She had overseen this prestigious institution for years, ever since her predecessor had retired. The arrival of the cardinal alphas would not undo her work. She would keep order here, no matter how impossible it seemed.

With her head held high, she walked briskly in the direction of her office. She had more pressing matters to deal with, like sorting through the mountain of scholarship applications sitting on her desk.

Lunaris Academy was an elite institution, known for accepting only the rich and privileged. It had gained even more prestige when the current alpha king, who had once been a student here, married the academy's top human graduate, elevating her to queen.

Since then, alphas followed a similar pattern, seeking out the academy's outstanding female students to become their mates.

Full-blooded she-wolves were rare and highly coveted after the war decimated their numbers. Like an extinct level. The academy had only one she-wolf, and Jameson knew she'd be snatched up by one of the cardinal alphas by the time graduation rolled around. The one who would be king probably.

Normally, no poor human would ever get the chance to step foot in such a revered institution. But every year, thanks to the alpha king's magnanimity, one lucky student from each district was given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study at Lunaris Academy, regardless of their background.

And it was her decision who would receive that golden opportunity. The thought gave Principal Jameson a sense of power, a thrill. It was almost like playing god.

She couldn't wait to get started.

Humming a tune, Jameson entered her office and turned around, only to scream bloody murder. Someone was sitting in her chair, their back to her. Before she could say a word, the swivel chair turned, and he faced her.

Oh god, no. The blood drained from her face.

Not this one.

While all the cardinal alphas were terrifying in their own way, there was one she feared above all the others, and he was sitting right in front of her.

Asher Nightshade.

It seemed ridiculous to be so afraid of him, especially since he looked like a movie star, with his perfectly styled dark hair and shades so opaque she could barely make out his eyes.

But Jameson knew better. Asher wasn't just any student—he was a mind manipulator. If he ever took off those glasses, he could get into her head, make her do whatever he wanted. Like slit her own throat. She shuddered at the thought.

Even though Asher wore the shades to protect others from his gaze, it didn't lessen the fact that he was dangerous.

"I've been waiting for you, Jameson. You took your sweet time today," Asher drawled, his gaze trailing down her body in a way that made her shiver.

Even at forty, Jameson knew she was still an attractive woman.

She worked hard to maintain her looks, eating healthy and keeping fit.

Her brunette hair was slicked back into a perfect ponytail, not a strand out of place, and her form-fitting skirt had not a single wrinkle.

She stood tall in her stilettos, every inch the picture of formal perfection.

Pushing her nerves aside, she forced a smile. "Mr. Nightshade, what a surprise. Though I would have appreciated if you had waited for me outside rather than breaking into my office. Don't you think so?"

He chuckled. "Where's the fun in that?"

Right. Jameson reminded herself why she avoided him whenever possible. Asher was the most unpredictable of all the cardinal alphas, chaos personified, always seeking to stir trouble.

Suppressing her unease, Jameson strode over to her desk, placed her bag on it, and asked in her most businesslike tone, "How may I assist you today, Mr. Nightshade?"

"And that's why I like you, Jameson. Always straight to the point." His voice dripped with amusement, and a prickling sensation crawled over her skin.

She wanted to demand he call her "Principal Jameson" as proper etiquette required, but the words stuck in her throat. Jameson knew better. Asher Nightshade might just be a student, but outside these academy walls, he wielded immense power. She wasn't foolish enough to get on his bad side.

"I heard you haven't approved the applications for the scholarship students yet," Asher said, his tone casual but laced with intention.

Jameson's mood shifted instantly. She eyed him cautiously. "Why, may I ask, are you interested in that, Mr. Nightshade?"

"Because I'll be the one approving the applications this year," he replied with a wicked grin.

Jameson felt the breath knocked out of her. No, no, this cant be happening.

She blinked in disbelief before finding her voice. "That's not your jurisdiction, Mr. Nightshade. I am responsible for reviewing and approving all applications. Besides, why would you care? Your role here is to study and excel, not meddle in administrative matters."

"Why, you ask?" Asher repeated, his smile widening as if she had made a joke. "Because the students you brought in last year were boring, and I'm going to shake things up this time."

Jameson bristled. She didn't know what he meant by "boring." The students she approved were always top performers with excellent potential.

"Mr. Nightshade—"

"Shall we do this the easy way, or should I make it hard? Though, honestly, it wouldn't be hard at all. You'd be a good girl in less than a second."

Jameson stiffened as Asher's hand moved toward his shades as though he were about to lower them, but instead, he ran his fingers through his dark hair. Still, the threat was clear.

"As you wish, Mr. Nightshade," Jameson conceded, knowing she had no real choice. Not unless she wanted to find out what punishment he might have in store for her. And she didn't have a death wish.

"Smart answer." He smiled in that unsettling way of his, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Jameson knew she'd made the right decision to comply.

Moments later, Jameson sat stiffly on the couch, seething in silence while Asher took her seat, rifling through the scholarship applications with a sense of ownership.

The room was eerily quiet like a graveyard, except for the occasional rustling of papers.

His expression was unreadable hence she couldn't tell what he was thinking. It annoyed her.

She couldn't hold back any longer. "You know, you don't have to—"

"Shh," Asher silenced her with a single raised finger, his eyes still scanning a page.

Then, for the first time, he smiled, his eyes gleaming as if he'd found a hidden treasure.

With a grin that made her uneasy, he handed the application to her.

"Approve this one."

Jameson's curiosity got the better of her as she took the paper from him, her eyes scanning the text. Almost immediately, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What the...?"

"It's perfect, isn't it?" Asher's voice was almost gleeful.

Fucking psychopath!

Jameson could hardly believe what she was reading. "Mr. Nightshade, with all due respect, this applicant....this girl just admitted to—" She couldn't even finish the sentence, still horrified at the explicit nature of the application.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I'm sorry, but I cannot approve this."

"She's issued me a challenge," Asher said, a dark gleam in his eyes.

"What?"

"Wait till you see me in bed," he repeated the bold line from the application, his grin widening. "And I can't wait to find out."

"Mr. Nightshade—"

He stood up, cutting off her protest as he fixed her with an intense stare. "Approve the application. I won't ask again."

Without waiting for her response, Asher strode out of the office, confident she would follow his orders. He always got what he wanted.

Left alone, Jameson stared at the door, her pulse pounding in her ears. She hated how powerless she felt, how easily that child had dismissed her authority. Had taken her position. This was supposed to be her game and she was the god. But it seems instead, she has been dethroned.

Asher Nightshade walked down the hall, a spring in his step. For the first time in a long while, he felt alive, his blood pulsing with excitement.

The other cardinal alphas had no idea what he was up to, but it will soon hit them.

He'd just set the game in motion.

And the target was Violet Purple.

It was game on.