Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Aina

Out of everyone on this entire campus I could have bumped into today, it just had to be her. The sister of my enemies AKA MATES. (Goddess, I’m lowkey starting to side-eye you because of that.) How on earth was their sister such an absolute sweetheart while her brothers were nothing but horrid little boys?

Yes, Aina mentally referred to her high-and-mighty mates as small boys with tiny dicks. In her mind, guys who went around bullying everyone else were clearly insecure about their own microscopic equipment, using their terrible personalities to overcompensate. It made perfect sense.

"Okay, all eyes to the board, please," Professor Ironk announced, his hand moving his chalk across the slate with ridiculous drama as he wrote out the word SHIFTING in giant, towering block letters. He commanded the attention of the room instantly. Who even knew someone could write that large?

"I am going to be your Shifting teacher, first years. Do not mistake me for your wolf combat teacher." He walked around the small wooden podium at the front, sweeping his sharp eyes over the rows with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "I will teach you how to shift."

He said it proudly, chest puffed out, but half the class immediately burst out laughing, completely unamused.

Aina, on the other hand, sat up straight the exact second the words left his mouth. She leaned in, resting her elbows on the desk to hear and see better.

Shifting? He’s actually going to teach us how to shift?!

For someone like Aina, who was utterly, embarrassingly pathetic at shifting, this class sounded like a dream come true. What more could a girl ask for? But for the rest of her aristocratic classmates, the concept was an absolute joke.

"I’m sorry to burst your bubble of importance, Professor," Avalin, the daughter of the fourth leading pack, purred out. Her voice matched her insufferable appearance perfectly. She sat prim and proper, with flawless porcelain skin that looked like it was washed in fresh milk every morning, and golden hair so smooth it was obvious she brushed it a hundred times before bed.

"But we already know how to shift," Avalin added cockily.

Right on cue, the entire classroom erupted into smug laughter again. Even Molly let out a light giggle beside her. Aina joined in quickly out of sheer peer pressure. She couldn’t risk being the only loser not laughing when she was already the outcast of the room.

"It seems... Mister Whitelock finds my class funny," Professor Ironk said, his voice slicing through the noise as his eyes locked directly onto Aina.

"What?" Aina mumbled under her breath, her eyes widening as she met his glare.

"Mind telling the class what you find so amusing, Mr. Whitelock?" The professor lifted a single brow, a deeply irritating, smug smile spreading across his face.

Unbelievable. Aina clenched her fists under the desk, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. Why was he singling her out? Literally everyone in the room had been laughing! She knew exactly why he was doing it, though—she was the fresh target, the kid who had dared to cross the royal princes yesterday.

"Mr. Whitelock, we are waiting," Professor Ironk pressed, crossing his arms.

The room filled with low murmurs and cruel snickers. Students leaned back to watch the trainwreck.

"I—" Aina started, her throat catching.

"He wasn’t laughing, sir. I was," Molly’s clear voice cut through the air as she casually raised her hand. "I think you mistook my laughter for his."

The silence that followed was instant.

The smug, menacing expression on Professor Ironk’s face evaporated in a split second, replaced by a tight, sickeningly polite smile. Ah, yes. The magic of royalty. Because she was the Princess, the terrifying shifter teacher instantly transformed into a purring kitten.

"Ah... my apologies, Princess Molly," Professor Ironk said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. "A simple mistake on my part. You may laugh whenever you like, of course."

Molly gave him a polite nod and a sweet smile. "Thank you, Professor."

Aina slumped back into her seat, praying the hardwood floor would magically liquefy and swallow her whole right then and there.

Professor Ironk cleared his throat, turning back to the board to save face. He launched into his lecture, his voice droning on and on about the intricate biological mechanisms of wolf shifting, how the spinal column deconstructs, how human bones fracture and reform in milliseconds, and how the internal organs rearrange to accommodate a lupine chassis.

While he rambled, Aina leaned sideways, whispering softly toward Molly.

"Thank you so much for saving my skin... again," Aina murmured, keeping her eyes fixed forward so Ironk wouldn’t catch her.

Molly turned her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with gentle humor. "It’s really nothing. We were all laughing. It wasn’t fair that he singled you out alone just to pick a fight."

"Still," Aina whispered back, a faint smile touching her lips. "You didn’t have to throw yourself under the bus for me."

"Trust me, Professor Ironk wouldn’t dare throw a bus at me," Molly hummed back with a quiet chuckle. "Perks of the family crest, I suppose."

An hour passed in a blur of gruesome bone-snapping diagrams and boring lectures. The moment the bell chimed to signal the end of the period, the room exploded into a flurry of shuffling paper and scraping chair legs. Students packed their bags and streamed out into the crowded corridor.

The main West Wing hallway was an absolute madhouse, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with roaring students rushing to their next classes.

"I need to go find my locker real quick!" Molly called out over the noise, stepping away into the crowd. "I’ll catch up with you in a second!"

"Okay!" Aina shouted back.

She pulled out her paper slip, scanning the numbers. Locker 412, Hallway 4B.

She squeezed past a group of tall Alphas and finally spotted her locker at the very end of the corridor... directly adjacent to the main men’s restroom.

Aina pinched the bridge of her nose. If the real Travis knew his assigned locker was right next to the communal toilets, he would have thrown a massive royal fit. Honestly, it was a good thing she had stolen his identity; the real Travis wouldn’t have survived the indignity.

She pulled out her key, but before she could even insert it into the brass keyhole, a sudden, heavy shadow slammed into her peripheral vision.

A hand grabbed her shirt shoulder, throwing her hard against the cold metal lockers.

Clang!

Aina’s back hit the metal, the breath knocked out of her lungs. She looked up, her heart sinking. Three tall, menacing guys were surrounding her, blocking any path of escape.

These were the infamous "wannabe princes" of Moonside, heirs from the top-ten ranking packs who spent their entire lives sucking up to Malric’s crew and picking on anyone beneath them.

The leader, a guy named Jax with greasy slicked-back hair and a crooked sneer, leaned right into her face. To his left stood Drake, a hulking guy with a thick neck and a permanent scowl, and on his right was Damon, who was twirling a heavy brass ring around his thumb.

"Well, well, well," Jax drawled out, his voice practically dripping with cheap villain energy. "Look what we caught slithering near the bathrooms. The little brave rat who thinks he can mess with the Iron Fangs."

Drake let out a booming, fake villain laugh. "He doesn’t look so tough up close, Jax. Looks like a pathetic little weakling wearing his big brother’s clothes."

Aina stared at them, completely unbothered by the insults. My Goddess, she thought to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her skull. This dialogue is so embarrassingly cringe-worthy. Did they rehearse this in the mirror this morning?

Still, she kept her mouth shut. After the absolute chaos of yesterday, she had zero desire to start another physical brawl on day one. She gritted her teeth, letting Drake yank her roughly by her collar, throwing her against the locker door again while Damon jabbed a sharp thumb into her shoulder.

"You think you’re special, Whitelock?" Jax growled, reaching out and roughly yanking a handful of her hair, pulling her head back. "You’re nothing. You’re dirt on the bottom of our boots. We’re gonna make sure you spend the rest of this semester crawling on your hands and knees."

Drake smirked, reaching down to grab her by the front of her jacket, dragging her off her feet with a sinister glint in his eyes. He raised a heavy, clawed fist, aiming straight for her face to deliver a blow that would undoubtedly shatter her nose.

"Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!"

A sharp, authoritative voice echoed down the hall.

Molly stood a few feet away, holding a bright fluffy pink notebook and a matching pen against her chest, her eyebrows pulled down into a fierce scowl.

Jax didn’t even turn around fully, scoffing as he kept his grip tight on Aina’s collar. "Scram, rat. Mind your own business unless you want a piece of this too."

Molly’s eyes narrowed. "Rat? How do you think my brothers would react if they heard you were calling their sister a rat?" Jax barked out a mock laugh, turning his head sideways. "I don’t give a damn what your brother thinks—"

Beside him, Damon’s face drained of every ounce of color. He violently tapped Jax’s shoulder, his voice dropping into a panicked, frantic whisper. "Yo! Shut up! Bro, stop—that’s Princess Molly!" Jax froze instantly. His head snapped around, his eyes dilating in sheer terror as he finally registered the eyes and the royal crest pinned to her collar.

He let go of Aina so fast she almost hit the floor.

Molly stepped forward, her expensive shoes clicking sharply against the stone. She reached down, gently grasping Aina’s hand and pulling her up off the ground. With careful, delicate fingers, she smoothed down Aina’s rumpled blazer and fixed her messy collar.

Then, Molly turned her gaze onto the three trembling bullies, her voice cold enough to freeze water. "Scram," Molly commanded quietly. "Before I scream at the top of my lungs and tell my brothers that you were bullying me."

"We’re sorry! We didn’t know, we’re so sorry, Princess!" Jax stammered out, backing away frantically. Without waiting another second, all three boys turned on their heels and bolted down the hallway like terrified rabbits.

Aina watched them vanish into the crowd, completely blown away by the sheer, unadulterated power Molly wielded with just a few words.

"Thank you... thank you so much, again," Aina breathed out, brushing off her trousers, her heart swelling with genuine gratitude. "Seriously, you didn’t have to do that. How can I ever repay you? I’ll do literally anything!"

Silence settled between them for a brief second. Molly lowered her fluffy pink notebook. She looked around the corridor, making sure no one was leaning in to listen, before stepping up close to Aina. Leaning in until her lips almost touched Aina’s ear, Molly whispered in a low, conspiratorial voice.

"Be my fake boyfriend."

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