The Runt Meets Trouble
© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.
The first thing I learned about Silvercrest Academy wasn’t written in the rulebook.
It was whispered in the hallways, carved into bathroom stalls, and burned into every terrified glance that followed me the moment I stepped onto campus.
Don’t look the Triumvirate in the eye.
Too bad one of them was already staring right at me.
I didn’t mean to crash into him. Literally.
One second I was trying to find the Registrar’s Office in the main building.
The next, I was flat on the polished marble floor, staring up at six foot of muscle and trouble wrapped in the sharpest school uniform I’d ever seen.
“Watch where you’re going, omega,” he said, voice low and dismissive.
And just like that, my first day at Silvercrest became a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
Oh god.
Open your mouth, Scar. Say something. Apologize. Anything.
But my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth, refusing to cooperate with the part of my brain screaming Speak before he kills you even though it wasn’t completely my fault.
Not that I’d ever say that out loud.
Scarlett O’Hara would never say that.
Yep. That’s me.
The Runt.
At least, that’s what my pack calls me.
A human omega.
Soft.
Pretty, apparently though I never see it.
Naïve, according to basically everyone.
And in the eyes of my relatives?
A freak.
Humans aren’t supposed to be omegas.
Omegas aren’t supposed to be humans.
And I’m not supposed to be here at Silvercrest Academy of all places, where the strongest alphas in the country train like they’re preparing for war.
So lying on the floor, staring up at this ridiculously tall, large guy wasn't part of the Agenda.
Yeah. This is exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me.
I scrambled to stand up, my cheeks burning hot.
“I ..I’m sorry,” I finally squeaked.
His golden eyes narrowed like he wasn’t sure if he heard me… or something else I didn't know.
Great. Perfect. Amazing first day, Scarlett.
I looked up at him—and that’s when I realized just how ridiculously tall he was. He towered over me in a way that made me feel like a child. I was short, yes, almost five foot one—average height, if I told myself that enough times. Comforting lies, really.
Standing next to him, who looked well over six feet, my cheeks flared hot, spreading all the way to the tips of my ears. And because I knew how my face looked when I was flustered, my embarrassment doubled. My skin was pale—so pale it could be compared to paper, almost corpse-like. And when I blushed? Oh, I didn’t just blush. I turned a deep, fiery red, like a tomato that had been left out in the sun. Not an exaggeration.
Now, the more embarrassed I got, the more the pink spread from my face down to my neck. I wanted to vanish.
Ahhh! Why couldn’t my first day here go smoothly? Why did I have to humiliate myself in front of someone so… so handsome?
And yes, he was handsome—ridiculously so. I had eyes; I wasn’t blind. Blond hair fell over his forehead, a fringe almost hiding the ember glow of his eyes. His skin was pale, but not as pale as mine, no one was, unless you were a vampire.
Then it hit me. I was still standing there, gawking like a fool. I internally face-palmed myself—and then…
“S..sorry again…” I whispered.
He didn’t respond.
Instead, he stepped closer, too close, his shadow swallowing mine.
My eyes widened as his face dipped down, his nose almost brushing my cheek.
Was he..
Was he sniffing me?
I froze, every muscle locking tight.
Did I stink?
No, I took a shower this morning
Oh God, what if I smelled too human?
Before I could crumble into dust from embarrassment, his nose actually touched my skin.
That was it.
I squeaked and jumped back like a terrified rabbit, nearly tripping again.
He blinked once, slow, as if my reaction was more confusing to him than the laws of physics.
His brows drew together just slightly, like I was the weird one here.
I didn’t wait for him to say anything.
I spun around and practically bolted down the hallway, heat flooding my cheeks, my neck, my entire soul.
When I dared look back once, just once, he was still staring at me.
Not angrily.
Not smirking.
Just… staring.
Unblinking.
Like he was trying to place me in a category I didn't even know existed.
My heart launched into a full marathon.
“Nope,” I told myself out loud. “We are not doing this.”
I shook the weird moment off, forced myself to breathe again, and finally found the Registrar’s Office.
I pushed the door open.
Inside, everything was polished wood, expensive chandeliers, and people who looked far too important to be breathing the same air as me.
A woman with silver hair and glasses looked up from her desk.
“You must be Scarlett O’Hara.”
I nodded quickly. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She smiled kindly which instantly made me feel less like hyperventilating.
“We’ve been expecting you. Congratulations on earning the Epsilon Scholarship.”
My throat tightened.
“I… I still don’t know how I got it,” I admitted quietly.
“You scored in the top one percent of the national assessment,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin. “Silvercrest only offers five of these scholarships a year. You should be proud.”
My chest warmed.
Proud.
I never heard that at home.
“Now,” she continued, “to keep your scholarship, you must maintain a GPA of 3.8 and above, attend all mandatory trainings, and complete your weekly practicum hours.”
I nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything. I won’t lose it.”
Her expression softened. “I believe you.”
She stood.
“Let me walk you through the basics.”
We exited the office into a long corridor.
“At Silvercrest,” she explained, “we don’t separate students by gender. Everyone stays in the same three main dorms, A, B, and C. But inside each dorm, we divide by wings.”
She pointed to the map on the wall.
“Each dorm has four internal wings: East, West, North, and South.
And each wing is assigned by rank. Not gender.”
I blinked. “S-so boys and girls… live in the same dorm?”
“Yes,” she said with a small smile. “Just not in the same wing. For example, in Dorm C, your dorm, the layout looks like this:
C-East Wing → Alpha males
C-West Wing → Alpha females
C-North Wing → Beta males and females
C-South Wing → Omega males and females
C-Upper Wing → Reserved
“And the Upper Wing?” I asked.
“That’s… reserved,” she said softly. “A special category of students. You won’t need to worry about that.”
Whatever that meant.
But then my eyes widened. “O-omegas stay together? Even boys and girls?”
“It’s supervised and fully monitored,” she assured. “Every room is single-gender, but the wings mix genders depending on rank. It keeps things organized and safe.”
“You’ll be in the South Wing, third floor,” she added. “Your room number is 3C-21.”
She must have seen the shock on my face because she smiled again.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be perfectly safe in Dorm C. It’s quiet, structured, and well monitored.”
Safe? What did that mean?
We walked down another long hallway until we reached the Uniform Office.
A man handed her three neatly folded sets, shoes, and a blazer.
“Tuesday uniform,” she told me. “Form-fitting cut, tailored according to your measurements. Silvercrest wants students looking their best.”
Translation:
I was about to look like a very small, very nervous, very curvy marshmallow stuffed into expensive fabric.
“Welcome to Silvercrest, Miss O’Hara,” the man said.
My heart swelled with fear, excitement, hope.
This felt like the beginning of my real life.
A chance to do something big.
To make my mom proud.
To stop being The Runt.
We walked to the dorm buildings, three massive structures shaped like crescents.
“Dorm A is East,” she pointed.
“Dorm B is North.”
“And Dorm C, your dorm, is West.”
She led me inside, chandeliers again, marble floors again, statues of wolves and phoenixes guarding the staircase.
“So your dorm room is south . You’ll be sharing with two other students. They’re in class right now, so you won’t meet them until later.”
We reached the third floor.
“This is your hallway. Bed rules are simple:
— No entering opposite-gender wings.
— No romantic visits after hours.
— Relationships are allowed, but private dorm access is not.”
My eyes widened. “They… allow relationships?”
She laughed lightly. “This is college, dear. Not a prison. Students just need to follow boundaries.”
We stopped at my door.
“You can start classes tomorrow…”
“No,” I said quickly. “I want to start today. I don’t want to fall behind. The semester already started yesterday.”
She paused… then smiled like she was impressed.
“Ambitious. I like that. Change into your uniform and I’ll take you to your first class.”
She left the room and closed the door gently behind her.
I stood there alone for a second… then looked around.
The dorm room was huge.
Three beds, three desks, huge windows overlooking the courtyard.
And in the far corner: my little space.
My bags stacked neatly.
I walked over and opened the largest one.
Right on top was my mom’s picture.
I swallowed hard, lifted it, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
“I’ll make you proud, mom,” I whispered. “I promise.”
Then I reached into the uniform pile and pulled out the Tuesday set.
A fitted white shirt.
A dark pleated skirt hugging my hips.
A blazer that cinched at the waist.
Knee-high socks.
Polished shoes.
A silver crest pin shaped like a wolf.
I changed, heart pounding, cheeks warm.
Then I turned to the full-length mirror beside my bed.
Scarlett O’Hara stared back.
Tiny.
Blushing.
Curvy.
Terrified.
But determined.
I whispered the little chant I always said before something scary:
“Chin up, chest out, heart don’t flop,
Don’t squeak, don’t faint, don’t fall, don’t drop.
Walk straight, don’t trip, don’t crash, don’t die…
Okay maybe just try.”
I let out a sigh.
“…Just try, Scarlett.”
I gave myself a shaky smile.
Then stepped outside.
The woman waiting for me blinked, then smiled wide.
“You look wonderful,” she said. “Ready to be part of the Silvercrest family?”
Family.
Maybe they were just close-knit…
Or maybe I would belong here.
Maybe.
I nodded, clutching my books.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I’m ready.”
