"Yo, what's up, homie?" Ardiel grinned as he adjusted the bulging backpack slung over his shoulders. His tone was light, but the tension in his eyes gave him away. "Today's gonna be a long one, Jared. You saw outside the gates earlier, right? Sophomores are gathering. I caught a glimpse of Vargas and Jenda…"
Jared raised an eyebrows; his expression tells he's not in good mood. "Yeah, I saw the crowd, but not those two..." His eyes narrowed. "Shit. If Vargas and Jenda are in on it... is there gonna be another round today? Three days ago, the seniors wrecked half the sophomore squads. And now—"
"—Now it's Vargas and Jenda's faction's turn," Ardiel cut in, slapping a hand on Jared's broad shoulder. "Relax, man. Not our mess. We're just freshmen. First-years. Let them rip each other apart—it's not our war."
Jared brushed Ardiel's hand away, his expression tight with frustration. "Tch. We are first-years, yeah, but this kind of crap messes up the school from the inside. You think other schools aren't watching, waiting to pounce the second we're weak?"
Ardiel rolled his eyes. "So, what—you gonna tell them to hold hands and make peace over BBQ? Hah! You're hilarious, man." He smirked, shrugging off the tension.
"There's gotta be something we can do," Jared muttered.
"Nope. Nothing," Ardiel said with finality, eyes forward. "This is above our pay grade, homie."
"Stupid seniors…" Jared growled.
Ardiel flashed a wide grin. "Then let's not be stupid. Let's get to class early and hit the books before history starts. Don't wanna freeze like a deer when Mr. Micah calls your name again, do you?"
Jared scoffed, cheeks coloring. "W-What are you talking about? I wasn't freeze, idiot! I just... tch, maybe you're right. Screw them war—we've got our own survival to worry about."
"Finally, some wisdom!" Ardiel laughed, slinging an arm around Jared's shoulder as they started down the hall, blending into the sea of students.
Shortly after, a soft pat landed on Jared's right shoulder—light, affectionate, almost tender.
"Morning, Jared… headed to class already?" The voice was honey-smooth.
Alana Morningstar.
A striking blonde with wild, curly hair that seemed to bounce with every breath of air. Her scent was soft, sweet like gardenias. Her beauty had a kind of disarming quality—more than just high-school cute. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, or in the front line of any cheerleading squad.
Today, she wore a crisp white blouse under a black blazer, paired with blood red flannel skirt that hung daringly above the knee—clearly not part of the school's regulation uniform. The look was finished with long white socks hugged her legs just below the knees, daring and deliberate, with sneakers of the same color.
With a sweet smile, she wrapped an arm casually around Jared's waist like she'd done it a hundred times before.
"Did you finish Mrs. Stanfield's math homework?" she asked, drawing out the last word like a teasing purr. "Hmmmm?" Then her expression changed.
Jared stiffened instantly, a wave of nervous heat flushing through his body. Alana's unexpected physical affection had that effect on him. Every time. Her confidence always blindsided him.
"Uh—A-Alana…" he stammered, gently trying to peel her arms off his waist. "C-come on, don't do that out of nowhere. Wait—math homework? Was there math homework?!"
Ardiel snorted from the side, barely hiding his grin. He'd seen this show too many times to be surprised. "She does that to make people see her close to you, Jared," Ardiel said with a laugh. "In this school, being close to you means protection. That's just how it works."
"Hah! Cut that bullshit!" Jared snapped.
Alana rested her head briefly against Jared's shoulder, her smile faltering. Her eyes flicked around the hallway like she was being watched—because she was.
Jared gulped, his chest beating like a machine, he feels his body kinda happy but not the lowest part of his brain—yeah brain.
"You're not just someone, Jared," Ardiel added, patting him on the back. "You're 'Flash'. The top wolves in Class 1-B, and one of our best freshmen. People know better than to mess with someone you care about."
Jarred didn't care what Ardiel said. Suddenly his ear holes seemed to be closed. He didn't hear anything. Only his heartbeat, and his weak knees.
Alana didn't say anything at first, and her expression darkened slightly, her smile now tinged with anxiety. And then—without warning—she hugged his waist tighter with her left arm, like something inside her suddenly needed to.
The hallway was bustling, packed with juniors going about their pre-class routines. But the teenage girls scattered around weren't just passing by—they were staring. Their gazes, sharp and heavy, drilled into Alana like she was prey that had wandered into enemy territory. Wolves. Lionesses. Threats.
Jared didn't notice. He was too focused on trying to free himself from Alana's stubborn arms. His face red as fuck, like an iron ball heated by a stove. Meanwhile, Ardiel just kept smirking, clearly enjoying the awkward mess.
As they reached the classroom door of 1-B, a tall figure stepped into their path.
Sammy.
Massive, built like a gladiator, strong as a street brawler, with a face better suited for coding and an ace every math test than combat. His voice, however, was deep and commanding.
"Flash," he said, locking eyes with Jared, "Arlo's looking for you. Side warehouse. Behind the canteen. Usual place."
First, he looked at Alana, frowned, then he glanced at Ardiel and raised a brow.
"You too, fat-ass. He wants you there."
Jared's eyebrows jumped—half surprised, half expecting it. But Alana—she didn't move. In fact, her grip tightened again, almost desperate now.
Ardiel looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "Wait—me? Why the hell does Arlo want me?!"
"Don't ask questions," he grunted. "Just move your asses."
"But why—"
"Because Arlo said so. Ask again and I'll fold your stomach into origami."
Ardiel went quiet, lips pressed in a thin line. His smile disappeared instantly.
The tension in the air thickened.
Jared still hadn't escaped Alana's arms. She held on like letting go would mean more than just breaking a hug. Her beautiful face was no longer playful—it was shadowed by something more serious. Something that scared her half to death.
Sammy nodded and walked away from them. He was big—real big. A thick wall of muscle wrapped in a school uniform. His face looked gentle, almost scholarly, but everyone knew better. Sammy wasn't just one of the top dogs in the first years—he was a fighter. One with scars no one dared ask about.
Ardiel stood frozen. The usual grin on his face had drained away, replaced by pale fear. Arlo's name hit him like a cold wind. He'd never been summoned personally before. Not by him. Not like this.
"Hmph… Arlo, huh?" Jared muttered, still trying to pry Alana's arm from around his waist. "What the hell is he planning now? Retaliation?"
He looked at Ardiel, eyes narrowing. "Hey, Ardiel... Do you know why he called you? Did you screw something up? Got beef with him I don't know about?"
Ardiel didn't answer. He just stared at the ground, shoulders hunched, lips trembling. His silence was louder than anything he could've said.
That was it.
Jared yanked Alana's arm off him, more firmly this time, stepping forward with frustration boiling in his chest. He planted himself between the two of them, his hands on his hips like a warning flare.
"Just stop! Okay? What the fuck, Alana? What's going on here?" he barked. Then his eyes shot to Ardiel. "And you—talk to me, man! You know what that warehouse is! That's not a hangout spot—it's a fucking graveyard for the weak. First the seniors used it, now Arlo and his crew, our turf. You got beat there before too, remember? So, what the hell did you do now?!"
Alana moved like she was about to speak, lifting her hand gently, but Jared snapped, "Wait. Alana—just stay there." He threw a palm out to halt her, firm but not cruel.
"I-I don't know, Jared!" Ardiel's voice cracked. "I swear, I don't! I didn't do anything—I don't know why he wants to see me!" He looked up, wide-eyed and pleading. "I'm as lost as you are, bro!"
"You sure?" Jared pressed.
"I-I don't know!" Ardiel repeated, almost shaking.
Jared's jaw tightened. Then he turned to Alana. Her face wasn't teasing anymore. It wasn't flirty, or proud. It was… scared.
"Tell me the truth," he said, lowering his voice. "You, okay? Something's going on, Alana. You can tell me."
Alana opened her mouth, hesitating. "Ehmm… mmm… So—"
But before she could speak, five girls emerged down the hallway like predators sniffing blood. Every first-year in the vicinity instinctively gave them space. Jared didn't need to look to know who it was. He felt them coming. So did Ardiel. Alana instinctively stepped behind Jared, clutching the back of his blazer like it was her last safe place.
Valentina led the pack.
Rockstar queen. Cropped bob, pierced lips, high boots, mini skirt, spider web tights, skull rings on her fingers, and a swagger like she owned every corridor she stepped in.
"Yo, Flash," Valentina said, flashing a mocking smile. "Busy morning, huh?"
"Valentina…" Jared muttered, not surprised, just annoyed. "Seniors hanging around first-year halls now? Don't you usually nest up by the sports field or the rooftop?"
Valentina smirked, twisting a strand of hair around one ringed finger. "We go wherever we want. This whole school's ours—top to bottom."
"Then why are you here?" Jared asked, eyes narrowing. "Checking on freshmen fashion trends?"
Valentina didn't flinch. She pointed straight past him. "I've got business with her."
Behind Jared, Alana's grip tightened.
Now it made sense.
Jared turned his head slightly, a knowing grin creeping up one corner of his face.
"Hoh…" he said, lifting an eyebrow. "I get it now." He looked back at Valentina, that grin still lingering. "Well, bad timing. Sorry, V. I got business with her first. So, leave her alone, yea?!"
She stepped forward, arm stretching out toward Alana—but Jared was faster. His hand shot up, catching her wrist mid-air, firm and unflinching.
"I said leave her," he growled, tightening his grip just enough to show he meant it. "Please."
Valentina arched a brow. Her girls chuckled behind her.
"Ooooh, listen up, babes!" she called over her shoulder. "Freshie here thinks he's a knight in shining armor! Ain't that sweet?" Her voice turned sharp. "Bull—fucking—shit."
Still, Jared didn't let go.
Valentina stared at him, lips curling into a twisted smirk. Then, like flipping a switch, she backed off.
"Alright, alright, Flash. You win this round. That little bitch is yours."
Jared finally released her wrist. Valentina turned to leave, but not before tossing over her shoulder, "But don't think you can protect her forever. She's marked. She's mine."
Her crew turned with her—except for one.
A girl lingered behind. Curly hair, delicate glasses, the scent of lavender clinging to her like it belonged to her skin. Sophia. One of the most graceful girls in school. Mysterious. Elegant. Dangerous in the way flowers are before you notice the thorns.
She stepped in close, leaned toward Jared, voice soft as silk, and whispered with a cryptic smile.
"She's been missing school for a week, right?" she said sweetly. "Ask her why, Flash." She chuckled. "That's why this schools at war—sophomores, seniors, everyone. I meant it, everyone. And trust me, it's not just about territory anymore."
Then she turned, following the others down the hallway.
He turned to Alana—staring at her. She was shaking, still clinging to his blazer. But it wasn't just fear—it was something deeper. Something broken. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Alana... what the hell is going on?"
Alana didn't answer.
Her lips parted like she wanted to speak—needed to—but no sound came out. Her face was still pale, like the blood had drained completely. Maybe it was Valentina's sudden arrival. Maybe it was something deeper. Jared couldn't tell. Not yet.
Behind them, Ardiel stood rigid, clutching the handle of his oversized backpack. The thing practically swallowed his body. He looked like a terrified child playing pretend in a soldier's gear. His knuckles were white, his eyes distant. The fear hadn't left him. If anything, it had crawled deeper.
Jared sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair, annoyed. "So, you're not gonna say anything?" he snapped, looking directly at Alana. "Seriously? After all that? If you keep playing silent, I can't help you."
He took a step closer, voice lowering but gaining edge. "You know who Valentina is, right? That psycho and her girls? They don't hand out ice cream and hugs. They hunt. If she gets her hands on you, you'll be the next girl dancing half-naked on the fucking rooftop while the whole school records it for kicks."
His tone softened just slightly. "So, if you got something—anything—you can tell me... now's the time."
Still nothing.
Just silence.
But then—Alana reached out.
Her cold fingers curled around his, gripping tightly. "J-just don't leave me today," she whispered, voice barely there. "P-please…"
Jared blinked. His breath caught. His cheeks flushed.
Damn it.
She was holding his hand. She was holding his hand.
His heart go nuts, pounded like a drum in his chest, more brutal than ever. Even with the chaos boiling around them, even knowing the entire school was watching... he didn't let go.
Then someone shouted from down the corridor.
"OI, FLASH! EVERYONE'S WAITIN' AT THE WAREHOUSE! ALL THE HEADS ARE GATHERED THERE—ARLO WANTS YOU! ASAP!"
Probably one of Arlo's errand boys, shouted it like a warning bell before disappearing back into the flow of the hallway crowd.
Jared didn't hesitate, he snapped out of it.
Showtime.
"You're coming with me," he told Alana firmly. "Whether you want to or not."
He turned to Ardiel. "Yo, homie—let's go. Don't worry. You're with me. Nobody touches you."
Alana hesitated; eyes wide. "S-should I really… come along? I—"
"You're safe with me, Alana," Jared interrupted, gripping her hand tighter. "Stop overthinking. I got you."
They didn't even glance at their classroom door.
1-B faded into the background as the three of them moved fast through the school corridors. Past classrooms. Past stairwells. The morning sun burned low through the windows, casting shadows like prison bars across the tile floor.
They reached the canteen building at the back of the school—a large two-story structure with rows of closed food stalls. At this hour, it was a ghost town, silent and still. By lunch it would be packed. But now, it was just a passage.
Jared, Ardiel, and Alana moved past it, cutting toward the rear lot.
There it was.
The Warehouse.
Two stories high. Old. Worn. Stained brick. Cracked glass. Graffiti scarred its walls like war paint. Its presence was like a scar behind the school—a forgotten limb that refused to rot. And in front of it, chaos thrived.
Dozens of students loitered outside, most squatting or leaning against the walls. Some smoked cigarettes, others passed around cans of beer like it was water. A few drank. None of them wore proper uniforms. Torn sleeves. Chain necklaces. Combat boots. Piercings. Bandanas. Tattoos peeking from under shirts, blazers, and jackets. Some even had real gang insignias carved into their skin. Some wore colors that meant something—territory.
They weren't students. They were soldiers. They were the broken, the dangerous, the wolves of Royal Hound.
And it's not just schools.
This was a turf war.
Male and female alike, they were cut from the same savage cloth. These were the first-year rebels, the underground royalty of the school. Fighters, rebels, punks, runaways, gang-affiliated or real gangsters. Some ruled with fists, others with fear. Politics, power, money, violence—it didn't matter. If you were top dog here, you lived like royalty. Their eyes were sharp, expressions harder than steel. They didn't care about rules. They didn't need books. They followed one law:
Power rules all.
They are the ones who chose fists over finals. The ones who would die to become top dog. Because at Royal Hound, being top dog meant being king and queen—and king and queen didn't get hurt. They ruled.
And right now?
Every pair of eyes was locked on them.
Specifically—on her.
Alana instinctively squeezed Jared's hand tighter. Her breathing picked up. She knew the stories. Even though she often skips school, she knew who Arlo was, "Lunatic Iron Fist." One of the Four Junior Kings. Even seniors acknowledge his name.
Beside her, Ardiel looked like he was about to throw up. The warehouse wasn't just a building to him. It was a nightmare. He'd been dragged in during his first month—pissed himself on the floor while they laughed, spit, beat him, filmed it. The walls still remembered his screams.
But Jared?
Jared Gray—aka Flash—walked like the damn king himself, like he owned the place. Tall. Unshaken. Holding Alana's hand like a trophy or a promise. Eyes watched him from every corner. Whispers followed like smoke trails.
People stepped aside.
Then the cheers began.
"YOOO, JARED! ALANA, HUH?! YOU BASTARD, SHE FINALLY PICKED YOU?! GODDAMN!"
Others whistled and jeered: "ALANA! COME TO ME, BABY! I'M TALLER, HARDER, AND I LAST ALL NIGHT!"
One guy hollered, "YOO, ALANA! YOU WANNA RIDE A REAL MAN? COME SIT ON MY COCK!"
Laughter.
The girls weren't silent either, "FUCK YOU, ALANA! WHORE! DON'T THINK YOU CAN CONTROL FLASH WITH THAT STINKY PUSSY OF YOURS!"
It cut deep. Jared felt Alana flinch behind him.
Then another screamed, nastier, "HOW MUCH DID JARED PAY FOR YOUR HOLES, BITCH?! LESS THAN A BURGER AT THE CANTEEN?! HAH! WHAT A FUCKING DEAL!"
Then another, "JARED, DROP THAT WHORE! I'LL GIVE YOU, MY WOMB! I'LL GIVE YOU TWINS, YOU HEAR ME?!"
More laughter.
But Jared didn't flinch. He kept walking, chin high, eyes forward. Proud. Calm. Dead center through the chaos. Let them talk. Their words were spit in the wind. His presence silenced most of them anyway.
The crowd moved for him.
They respected him. Feared him. Or both.
They cleared a path.
But not Ardiel.
Ardiel was still him to them—the fat kid who got beat for breathing wrong. The tag-along. The nobody.
"Who let the blob out?"
"Look at that tubby bitch, following Flash like a damn mascot."
"Hope Arran makes him dance again. That shit was hilarious."
Jared heard it all—but he didn't look back. Not yet. He just squeezed Alana's hand, then whispered to her, "Keep walking. I got you."
Jared pushed through the crowd, leading Alana by the hand, with Ardiel following like a silent shadow.
The warehouse loomed.
And whatever waited inside… was about to begin.