ISADORA’S POV

The bench was freezing, but I didn’t move.

My chest is wrapped tightly with medical bandages. Hair cut so short it looked like tufts. Identity hidden six feet below the ground. I was no longer known as Isadora Valez, the daughter who had disgraced Alpha Salvador Valez. I was now Isaac Valez, a quiet and scrappy soldier from a small village near the border. Just one more boy among the many who are broken.

Alpha Dominion Academy was not designed for teaching. It was designed to be removed.

A location for making the best weapons. The sons of alphas and diplomats were raised here, each one representing their family’s power and pride. I wasn’t only an outsider. I acted like a predator, but I was really the prey.

Rafael Moreira, my former fiancé and the future Alpha of the Ironclaw Region, was almost ready to discover the truth.

“Hey, you’re the new kid, right?” A boy with a crooked smile sat down next to me.

He seemed to think he was better than everyone else.

“Yes,” I answered, speaking in a deeper voice than I used to. Gravel-edged. Practiced.

“What’s your story?” he said, spreading out as if he had all the space.

“I’m just trying to get by.”

He laughed, got up, and gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I hope it goes well for you.”

As he left, I clenched my jaw. The touch was painful. Not because of the consequences—I was always reminded I didn’t fit in.

The Academy’s Daily Schedule

Get up at 0400. All lights are turned off at 2300.

In the middle: hell.

Training my body until my bones were in pain. Study combat so much that you feel like your brain is melting. History lessons filled with falsehoods every massacre is turned into a required cleansing. No one doubted it. Asking questions could lead to your disappearance.

Every situation was a challenge. Every person could be a danger. I made sure my voice did not waver. I am standing with my back straight. I feel nothing.

However, some shadows remained even after being killed.

“Isaac!” shouted the drill sergeant as they did obstacle drills. “You’re up!”

I took a step forward, feeling my heart race. I had to face spiked walls, climb ropes, crawl through weighted areas, and deal with timed explosives. This wasn’t about learning. it was about inflicting pain and calling it discipline.

If I made one mistake, I’d be taken out on a stretcher or, even worse, stripped and exposed.

I ran. Climbed. Slid. I felt pain all over, but I kept going, not paying attention to the burning in my lungs or the blood on my hands.

The rope broke just before the last jump. I managed to catch it, but I landed with a loud thud.

The other cadets remained quiet.

“It’s not terrible,” the sergeant said.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, squeezing my fists to keep them from shaking.

I felt someone watching me that night.

Rafael was seated at the table he always used in the mess hall. The gold rank badge is on his chest, and two sycophants and his betas are standing nearby. He appeared just as arrogant as before, tilting his head, keeping his jaw strong, and curling his lips in a small, judgmental way.

But there was a different quality in his eyes.

Recognition.

He stood up slowly and walked over to my table.

“You look familiar,” he said, calm but clear.

I smiled politely and said, “It was just a coincidence.” My voice had become deeper. My cheekbones are more defined. Yet, I still felt a shiver when he was near.

“Maybe.” He remained still. I just kept looking at him.

After that, I turned and walked away.

As I was leaving the locker room, someone hit the wall beside my head with their hand.

Caio Duarte.

A member of the Obsidian Syndicate’s inner group. One of the few who was born crippled and still caused fear. He walked limply, but his eyes were the most dangerous.

“I know what you’re hiding,” he said, ensuring I could hear him.

I froze. Then, I turned, keeping my calm expression on. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yes, you do, princess.” He gave a wicked smile. You don’t get as sweaty as the other boys. You are too cautious about what you let into your heart. I noticed the bandage under your collar yesterday. Do you still want to pretend?”

I felt my stomach turn. I remained silent.

“I’m not trying to destroy you,” he said, looking at me. I can help you hide from others. However, you’ll have to pay for it.

“What are you looking for?”

He moved closer to me. The Syndicate is working on a new deal, a political activity. You will be the one people see as the company’s representative—a fake fiancé. Real threats. Keep your secret hidden, and you can act like a simple pawn.

I looked at him, feeling my anger grow inside me. “What if I say I don’t want to?”

He smirked. I allowed Rafael to see the girl that was hidden behind the boy.

Two days after that, during a live combat simulation, everything came close to failing.

We were assigned to work together. Only blunt weapons are allowed, and there are no set rules. Rafael was put in my group.

As soon as he entered the ring, my heart started to race. I attempted to play it easy, hitting the ball low and fast, but he responded easily.

“You fight just like her,” he said as we started our duel.

“Like who?”

“"Isadora Valez," he said, his expression turning more serious.

“She’s dead,” I said, turning away.

“Funny. You react the same way she did.

He lunged. I tried to avoid the blade, but my shirt got caught and ripped, revealing the white binding underneath.

Time slowed.

“Isaac!” he yelled, looking at the bandage.

Holding the shirt, I took a step back and said, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He started to sound curious, not worried. He wasn’t paying attention to my wound. He appeared to be attempting to unravel the remaining pieces of my identity.

I whispered, “Yeah,” and took off before he could say anything else.

The Pressure Is Building

I stayed in the maintenance tunnels all night, holding my torn shirt and hugging my knees. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs, and I was filled with fear. My mind raced.

Rafael had a sense of what was happening.

Caio was in a position to trap me.

Engagement was a requirement. Being handed over to the Obsidian Syndicate was the choice if I agreed, and being exposed and destroyed if I didn’t.

IIt wasn't only about staying alive now.

I had to decide which monster would be the first to eat me.

Now I hide, battered and trapped, my breath making a fog in the cold. TThe academy’s anthem plays in the background, evoking feelings of victory, pride, and blood.

I feel my hands shaking.

Not because of fear.

From fury.

TThey stole my name, my father's, and my dignity. TThey believed I would leave.

And I am still here.

OOne day, I’ll make them feel the same pain I felt from wearing those masks.

Yet, I find myself whispering the question that won’t leave me alone: Will I be able to cope with the academy and the dangerous politics surrounding me, or will the things I keep hidden destroy me?