I spent the entirety of the day before high as a fucking kite, which meant I’d woken up this morning with a splitting headache and a mouth as dry as sandpaper. But still, by six a.m., I was up and ready for today’s bout of succession training—which included a sparring session with Luka and an “opportunity” to sit in on a council meeting. Or, as I liked to call it, a front-row seat to corruption in HD.The council was meant to be a system of checks and balances, a governing body that ensured the Alpha and Luna didn’t wield absolute power. In theory, they were supposed to be the voice of the people, holding leaders accountable, ensuring justice. But that only worked when the council wasn’t rotten to its core.Most of them were deep in my father’s pocket, their loyalty bought with power, fear, or the simple promise of indulgence. They turned a blind eye to his worst atrocities, some even partaking in them. I’d seen their faces at his events, standing in the shadows, sipping expensive whi
I decided to call in sick for the next three days while I figured everything out.Technically, it wasn’t a lie—I was sick. Sick to my stomach, staring at the picture of Jessie, bruised, battered, and covered in blood. I stared at it for a long time, as if, if I just kept looking, the image would shift, distort—until suddenly, I’d realize it wasn’t really her.But no matter how long I sat in the middle of my living room, gripping my phone so tightly my fingers ached, the picture never changed. If anything, the longer I stared, the more I became convinced that the woman in the image was Jessie. And the sicker I felt.I tried texting the number back several times, but none of my messages went through. The number was private, untraceable—I couldn’t call it, nor could I get someone else to track it.I was lost.And after exhausting every option I could think of, I realized I had only two left.One: I could give up, return to Marcus, and face whatever punishment he had waiting for me.Or tw
This might be the longest week of my life.The days dragged by, each one slower than the last, as I counted down to Saturday. Every morning, I woke with the same thought: One day closer. And every night, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, the same questions turned over in my mind. How was Victor planning to get Jessie out? Would he even follow through? And what would he want from me once he did?I was relieved he’d agreed to help—I had no other options, and I knew that without him, Jessie’s fate was sealed. But that relief was laced with unease, a steady undercurrent of anxiety that never fully left me. I owed him too much already. The only reason I was still here, still breathing, was because of him. How much more would he demand?I could imagine the possibilities. Maybe he’d ask me to keep an even closer watch on Elijah, to report on more than just his grades. Maybe he’d expect me to use my position, to influence people on his behalf. Or maybe it would be something worse—somethi
After assuring Morgan that I was fine—and mostly unaffected by what I dismissed as a childish attempt to rattle me—she reluctantly let it go. She muttered one last string of curses for the “unfortunate bastards who thought they were funny” before heading home.I watched her go, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the tension still coiled in my chest. I wasn’t used to having someone stand up for me so openly, to have someone express their anger for me instead of at me.The only person who had ever looked out for me before was Jessie. But even then, her concern had always been cautious, hidden beneath careful words and fleeting glances. Our friendship had been something fragile, something that could only exist in stolen moments—moments when we were sure Marcus or his people weren’t watching, when we knew we wouldn’t be punished for it.Outside those moments, Jessie could only watch with pitying eyes as I was yanked around and abused.Long after Morgan had left, I remained at my des
I found him near the back of the room.Elijah was sprawled out on a couch, surrounded by a crowd of students talking and jeering, bodies leaning into each other in drunken familiarity.But my gaze was fixed on him. His head was tipped back, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. His shirt was rumpled, his pupils blown wide, and from the dazed look in his eyes, he was completely out of his mind.And Sarah was stretched out across his lap.She draped herself over him like she belonged there, her fingers trailing across his chest, nails skimming the exposed skin at the base of his throat. She whispered something low and teasing, and Elijah let out a slow chuckle, his hand coming up to rest on her hip.My throat tightened. Irritation surged through me—hot, possessive, irrational. I tamped it down, forcing myself to focus, but before I could move, someone spotted me.A whistle pierced the air.Laughter followed. Heads turned. And then Elijah’s gaze landed on me.He stared for a moment, blinking
I only remembered bits and pieces of yesterday.Whatever drugs I took, they were strong enough to wipe most of it clean. The entire day was a blur—just short gaps, fragmented bursts of sound, movement and images slipping through my mind like sand through my fingers.I remembered Friday morning. That part was clear. My only class, then heading back to train with my father. Another mission. An interrogation.There had been someone—someone we’d caught. I couldn’t remember who, or what they did, but I remembered the room. The heavy scent of sweat, blood, and fear clinging to the walls. My father’s voice, low and cold, as he demanded answers. The sharp crack of bone snapping. The sound of a man’s screams ringing in my ears. I remember him pleading. And I remembered myself. Standing there, watching. My stomach twisting. My hands clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.I don’t remember what he did to them in the end. If they lived or died. I didn’t remeber if I’d joined in, I
I drove home in silence, the weight of last night pressing down on me like a boulder. The streets were empty, washed in the dull glow of streetlights, but my mind was anything but. It was a mess of fragmented memories, guilt gnawing at me with every turn of the wheel.After leaving the room—leaving them—I hadn’t even stopped to think. I just needed to get out, needed to be anywhere but there. The feel of Sarah’s skin still clung to mine like filth, and no matter how many times I wiped my palms against my jeans, I still felt unclean.My head throbbed, a dull pounding at the base of my skull, and my stomach churned with a mixture of exhaustion, nausea, and shame. I barely remembered the drive itself—just the sharp focus on the road, on getting home. On getting away.By the time I pulled up to my apartment, my hands were shaking against the steering wheel. I exhaled sharply, resting my forehead against it for a brief second before forcing myself to move. Just get inside. Shower. Figure o
On Saturday evening, Izaak reached out to me to inform me that Victor had requested my presence on Sunday morning at 10 a.m.—no earlier, no later. When I tried asking him if that meant they’d successfully managed to get Jessie out of Marcus’s clutches, he just hung up on me. I guess I had to go to find out. The events of Friday evening had almost completely distracted me from everything relating to Jessie, and that made me feel both guilty and determined—determined to finally push aside all unnecessary thoughts and concern I had towards Elijah North. After all, see where all my misplaced concern had gotten me. I still couldn’t get the steely look in his eyes and the cold malice in his voice out of my head. Elijah and I weren’t friends per se—I had always tried to keep a sizeable distance between us—but we weren’t strangers either, and he always made it seem like there might be something more between us… or did he say that solely to fuck with me? Either way, as much as I didn’
When I was sixteen, I made the mistake of trying to carve out a path for myself.One of the routes I took involved working toward my PhD and falling for a man—or rather, a boy. He was only two years older than me, with sandy blonde hair, freckles, and the kindest smile I’d ever seen. He treated me better than anyone ever had.All my life, I’d been told I was destined for someone else—the son of the Alpha. But why? Why was I supposed to bind myself to someone I didn’t even love? Someone who didn’t love me either? Someone who wasn’t even my mate?So, for a little while, I decided to defy that destiny. That was how I ended up with my first boyfriend.He was the son of the pack doctor. We met at school shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t shrink away from me, cowed by my title or the weight of what I was. He saw me eating alone one day and approached with the brightest smile. He introduced himself and waited for me to do the same—something I’d rarely done,
The garden smelled like lavender and fresh earth.I was small again—maybe seven or eight—kneeling in the flower beds beside Mum. The sun hung low and golden, spilling warmth across the hedges and blooming petals. Bees buzzed lazily in the distance, and windchimes clinked from the porch like tiny bells. I could hear the steady snip of her garden shears, rhythmic and familiar, like a lullaby wrapped in sound.She wore her straw hat, the one with the frayed brim and blue ribbon I used to tug when I wanted her attention. Dirt streaked her forearms, her fingernails packed with soil, but she looked radiant—like the sunlight itself loved her.“There we go,” she said softly, reaching down to pat my back. “Your hands are gentle. That’s why the flowers like you.”I grinned, my heart blooming with pride. “I wanna help every day.”She glanced sideways, her eyes warm. “I’d love that. Maybe you can teach your sister how to do this.”I giggled, still elated at the thought of having a little sibling.
Elijah hadn’t shown up to class. Again.At first, I tried to tell myself it wasn’t anything new. He skipped sometimes—especially when things got bad at home. I didn’t expect him to come back right after being punished for goddess knew how long. But that realisation did nothing to settle my erratic thoughts, all it did was breed more worry. What if he was actually hurt and weak and unable to come to class because of that, what if he wasn’t even released from Victor’s clutches yet. The worry had bloomed into something tighter—something close to panic.It’s been days. Nearly a week since I saw him last. I dismissed the class and gathered my things slowly, lingering at the front as the students trickled out.Then I saw him—Luka—headed toward the door, his hoodie half-zipped, a satchel slung over one shoulder. He didn’t look at me as he passed by the lectern, and his steps were clipped, his shoulders rigid. He always lingered when Elijah was around. Now he seemed like he couldn’t get ou
I didn’t even remember walking through the door.One minute I was in hell—my father’s brand of it, brutal and endless—and the next, I was here. In the apartment I used to share with Luka. Still technically shared with him, I guessed. His hoodies still hung on the hooks by the door. There was a toothbrush by the sink, an unopened energy drink on the counter. Signs of life. His life. But not mine.I locked the door behind me and didn’t leave again.The curtains stayed drawn. The lights stayed off. Time bled out around me, thick and directionless. The world outside stopped existing. I moved through the apartment like something dead but too stubborn to rot all the way through. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t even feeling. I just… existed. Barely.My back throbbed with every breath. The skin was raw, tight, like it had been stitched together too quickly. Every time I shifted, it pulled and burned. I hadn’t changed out of the shirt I threw on that first night—it clung to me now, damp with old s
The cup was cold in my hands. I raised it slowly, and the smell hit me first—rotten fruit and metal and something sharp that made my nose sting. My stomach turned. I closed my eyes, braced myself, and drank. The moment it touched my tongue, I gagged. It burned going down, thick and syrupy, like swallowing hot tar. My throat seized, and I doubled over slightly, coughing as my stomach twisted in revolt. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, breathing hard. My eyes watered. Adora didn’t blink. She just watched me like a scientist observing a test subject. Victor chuckled weakly from the bed. “Such dramatics. You’d think she was being poisoned.” Wasn’t I? My limbs felt heavier now. My thoughts slower, dulled at the edges. But I knew the next part. I’d done this before. Too many times. So I stepped forward, finally, my feet dragging like I was wading through water. My hands were shaking again—but this time, it wasn’t just fear. It was power, building beneath my skin in
The gala went on as planned the next day—a glittering illusion I drifted through like a ghost in borrowed skin. Laughter filled the air, light bounced off crystal glasses, and the string quartet played a song I couldn’t remember even as I stood there listening. Everyone seemed enchanted by the atmosphere—the silk gowns, the polished shoes, the delicate scent of white lilies clinging to every surface.But I couldn’t breathe.The dress I wore might as well have been made of lead. My smile ached. My chest felt like an empty cage. I moved when someone spoke to me, I nodded, I thanked them for compliments I didn’t hear, but I wasn’t there. Not really. I was somewhere else entirely.I was thinking about Elijah.And myself.Mostly myself.The worry had lodged itself in my throat and hadn’t moved since yesterday. It was the kind of worry that gnawed slowly, not loud or sharp but constant—a dull ache behind every thought. But I didn’t have time to wallow for too long, Victor had summoned me a
I didn’t go to any more classes.Instead, I climbed the stairs to the top of the old building by the botanical gardens and sat on the roof, staring out across the trees. I could see the football field in the distance. Birds circled lazily overhead. A few students walked below, but no one looked up.I stayed there for hours, staring down at everyone and everything, until eventually, I couldn’t linger anymore. When I finally dragged myself to the field, I heard the whispers even louder this time. Like they’d had most of the morning to curate whatever brand of gossip they’d been spreading the whole day and make it into something more explosive. Sure enough, heads turned the second I stepped into the light.“Well, if it isn’t our beloved prince,” Hunter said, loud enough for the entire field to hear. His voice carried across the grass like a whip, sharp and mocking. “Back from royal exile.”I didn’t respond. I kept walking, my boots crunching over the turf, the weight of the stares press
I didn’t want to be here.My head was splitting, my eyes felt like they were vibrating in their sockets, and I hadn’t slept—not unless you counted thirty minutes of my eyes being shut as real sleep. After leaving Lenora’s office last night, I’d wandered for hours before crashing back at the apartment with nothing but silence, leftover regret, and whatever was left of Lenora’s scent from two nights ago to keep me company. I’d reached out to my dealer the second I was alone, hands trembling as I asked him to give me something. Just anything, as long as it would numb the pain. He couldn’t get me more than a couple of pills, and they’d already worn off by morning.But at least I didn’t have to spend the rest of the night drowning in my own emotions. I’d considered skipping school—after all, I really didn’t want to be here. But I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. I didn’t need to give anyone any more things to use against me than they already had. Anyway, now I was here, on campu
“I still can’t believe that just happened,” Morgan muttered beside me as we made our way through the near-empty hallway that led toward the faculty wing.Neither could I, honestly.The building had emptied quickly after the chaos of tonight’s game. Most people had remained in the stadium, stunned into silence or milling about in disbelief. Others had left quietly, unsettled. Now, it was just the sound of our footsteps echoing off the tiled floor, the overhead lights buzzing faintly in the quiet.“I mean—Elijah North?” she said, still stunned. “Beating the crap out of another player? Right there on the field? I always pegged him for the jovial, cheeky type. I never thought he’d do something like that. That… that was scary.”She wasn’t wrong.It had been terrifying. But not in the way she meant.I wasn’t scared of Elijah. I was scared for him.The look on his face during the fight hadn’t just been rage—it had been darker, deeper. Something twisted and broken, something barely tethered.