Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 254: Back To School

After a long, brutal winter, the snow finally melted across our territory. The forest behind the city breathed again, and the air no longer burned my lungs when I inhaled. But peace in the weather never meant peace in the pack.

Through one of our scouts, I uncovered something ugly—a shady operation hidden inside a car repair shop at the edge of town. On the surface, it looked ordinary. Underneath, it smelled of greed and fear. The story spread quickly across social media. Humans called it fraud. The authorities acted concerned. But I knew better.

That shop was only one rotten branch on a diseased tree.

We managed to pull a few victims out. Still, my instincts told me there were many more suffering in silence. Where greed grows, darkness follows. Some people are willing to abandon their souls for power. In our world, that kind of hunger is dangerous.

Fireworks suddenly burst outside the window of our penthouse, sharp and bright against the night sky. It was the fifteenth day of the New Year. I hadn’t even noticed how fast time had moved. So much had happened in two weeks. I had almost lost myself once—my spirit torn from my body in a ritual gone wrong. Since then, every quiet moment felt precious.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Lewis’s scent—cedarwood and winter smoke—settled my restless nerves instantly.

"Riley’s transfer to the academy is finalized," he murmured near my ear. His voice carried that steady Alpha calm that could silence a room. "The new semester starts soon. Do you want to attend?"

Even as the leader of our pack, he always asked for my opinion first. That respect meant more to me than any title.

"Yes," I said softly. "I should see the campus myself."

This was a rare pause between conflicts. Our enemies had not yet regrouped. I wanted to breathe. To live. To stand beside my mate without preparing for war.

"I’ll handle everything," he replied.

On my first morning back at the academy, I stood in front of the mirror surrounded by clothes. I had tried on five outfits already. My closet looked like a storm had passed through it.

Lewis stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. His gaze swept over the mess and then landed on me. "What’s wrong?"

"I haven’t stepped into a classroom in years," I admitted. "What do students even wear now?"

I didn’t want to look older than everyone else. But I also didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard to appear young. Being Luna of a powerful pack came with expectations. Even my appearance could be read as dominance or weakness.

He chuckled, walking closer. "You could wear anything and still turn heads."

I lightly punched his chest. "That’s not helpful."

"Late winter," he said, thoughtful now. "It’s cold. Warmth first. Everything else second."

That was so like him—practical, grounded.

I chose a simple down jacket. Lewis stepped closer and wrapped a soft cashmere scarf around my neck, adjusting it carefully, his fingers brushing my jaw. His touch was gentle, but there was power in it. A quiet claim.

"You look perfect," he said.

"As long as you like it," I whispered, "I’m happy."

For years, I had dressed like armor—heels, sharp makeup, perfect lines. Back then, I lived under constant pressure, trying to prove myself worthy beside Juilan. There was no room for softness. No time to breathe.

Now I stepped out bare-faced. No heavy makeup. No polished mask.

It felt like reclaiming a part of myself.

"I’ll walk you to the gates," Lewis said, running a hand through my hair. "I’ve always wanted to stand beside you while you grow. I’m grateful I get to."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. "I’m lucky you’re my mate. Now and always."

He dropped me off at the academy entrance. "I’ll pick you up later."

I leaned in and kissed his cheek before stepping out. The iron gates stood tall, just as they had years ago when I graduated. Back then, my entire world revolved around ambition and survival. There was no space for simple sunlight or soft breezes.

Now, under the gentle warmth of the sun, everything felt slower. Lighter.

Riley was studying music, so my first stop was Dean Alec Walsh’s office. Thanks to Lewis’s quiet arrangements, everything had already been prepared.

"Mrs. Hale, welcome," Alec said warmly. "There’s no need to worry about your academic records."

"Thank you," I replied, keeping my tone polite but distant.

He smiled awkwardly. "We appreciate Mr. Hale’s generous donation to the new building."

Of course they did.

Lewis never announced his power, but he used it well. He smoothed paths without making it obvious. That was true dominance—silent and effective.

"Please," I said gently, "just call me Riley while we’re on campus."

Before Alec could respond, the door opened.

I turned casually.

Then I froze.

Lincy.

For a moment, the air thickened. My pulse sharpened. Even without showing it, I felt the old tension coil inside me. In another life, she had tried to take everything that was mine—my place, my name, my future.

"Do you two know each other?" Alec asked, confused.

I smiled faintly. "I don’t have a sister like Lincy."

Her jaw tightened. I could almost hear her heartbeat quicken.

We introduced ourselves to the class later. Lincy kept her distance until she found me alone.

"Are you doing this on purpose, Riley?" she hissed. "You’ve already stolen everything from me. Now you follow me here?"

"Stolen?" I folded my arms. "You built your life on borrowed status. Now you’re angry you have to stand on your own feet."

Her face flushed red. "This is your fault!"

Before she could continue, my hand moved.

The slap echoed softly in the empty hallway.

"Watch your tone," I said quietly. My voice was calm, but my gaze held warning. "Push me again, and I won’t stay silent."

She stared at me, fury burning in her eyes—but she backed down. Without another word, she stormed away.

"Lincy," I called after her, "you still owe me an apology."

She didn’t turn around.

I watched her leave with a cold expression.

She owed more than an apology.

The day dragged on, and by late afternoon I decided to grab something from the cafeteria. Halfway across the courtyard, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I staggered, breath catching in my throat.

My knees nearly gave out.

I crouched down, reaching for my phone, but the pain twisted again, deeper this time.

"Are you okay?" a male voice asked urgently.

"I’m... fine," I lied, though my vision blurred.

"You’re not fine," he said firmly. Before I could protest, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms and began moving fast toward the infirmary.

The sudden closeness made my instincts stir uneasily. Not attraction—just awareness. He was strong. Confident. His scent carried a familiar edge.

"You’re the new transfer, right?" he said. "I’m the class monitor. I missed introductions earlier. The infirmary is close."

When I finally focused on his face, something clicked. There was a resemblance I couldn’t ignore.

"Thank you," I managed. "What’s your name?"

He smiled brightly. "Yael Blackwell."

Blackwell.

The name hit me instantly.

Vito Blackwell.

The similarity was unmistakable—the eyes, the curve of the smile. Vito’s features had been softer. Yael’s were sharper, more rugged. But the bloodline was clear.

The Blackwells had arrived.

And something told me this was not a coincidence.