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.
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 ball blurred in my vision, bouncing erratically, almost as if it had a mind of its own. My hands felt disconnected from my body, slippery and uncooperative. My heart pounded, not with adrenaline but with a frantic, disjointed rhythm that made my chest tight and my breathing shallow. The stadium air felt stifling behind my helmet, the lights glaring down like a spotlight on my every mistake. My legs were heavy, like they were sinking into the polished wood floor. My head swam, the edges of my vision darkening as I struggled to focus. “Move, Elijah!” Lukas’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding, but it sounded distant, as though he were shouting from underwater. Move. Move, I told myself. We were a few seconds away from winning or losing and with one right move, I could change the odds. I always did that, it was something that I was good at. But not right now, not in this state. I forced my feet to respond, to push forward, to do something. But my body betray
“Who the hell plays football high?” Lukas’s voice boomed through the locker room, ricocheting off the metal walls. He was pacing like a caged animal, his eyes blazing with frustration. I rubbed my temples, the remnants of the game still pounding in my head. I certainly wouldn’t have played football high, but there was a meeting with my father the day before and I needed something to numb the emotions. “Keep your voice down, man.” “Don’t ‘man’ me,” Lukas snapped, spinning to face me. “Do you even know how bad you looked out there? You cost us the championship, Elijah! You put the whole team at risk! What if you’d gotten tested before the match?! What do you think your father would have done? What the hell were you thinking?” “I don’t need the lecture,” I muttered, slumping onto the bench, I rolled my shoulders back, the weight of Luka’s stare digging into my back. “And I’m not high.” “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re actually trying to lie to me?” He took a threatening ste
“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a place like this?” The man’s voice was smooth, low and confident. I rolled my eyes and turned, ready to shoot down another hopeful suitor when my words got thoroughly stuck in my throat. He was younger than me—barely in his mid-twenties, I guessed—wavy black hair that fell over his forehead and just nearly brushing over his eyelids, his face was beautifully sculpted, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, slender nose all joined together to create a masculine and yet somewhat feminine look. Beneath his oversized hoodie, I could tell he was well built and even with the multicoloured lights bouncing about the walls of the bar, his gold eyes managed to shine even though it was faintly. But it wasn’t his good looks that got to me, it was him, as a person. Something within me stirred at his presence, I wanted to get closer to him, I wanted to know everything about him, my body seemed to burn from him and there was this movement under my skin
The room was dark, the soft hum of a distant city filling the silence. I stirred slowly, my body aching with a dull, persistent ache. My head throbbed as my memories began to surface—vivid, haunting, and unmistakable. The bar. The music. The dance. Him. The weight of it all pressed down on me, suffocating and relentless. I opened my eyes, my breath catching as they settled on the man next to me. His golden eyes were closed, his dark hair tousled, his expression soft in sleep. He looked peaceful. Elijah. A jolt of panic ran through me. What had I done? What had we done? I sat up quickly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath uneven. I grabbed the edge of the blanket, clutching it tightly around me as though it could protect me from the memory, from him. My memories of last night were vivid, but it felt like I was watching someone else do all those things. The conversation, the dance, the desperation I felt, the need, the sex, the way
I woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier feeling in my chest. Ignoring the pounding headache hammering against my skull, I sat up and scanned the room, searching for any sign of the woman I’d spent the night with—Lenora. Flashes of her came rushing back: long, curly black hair, hazy green eyes, soft lips, and breathless moans. I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. I wasn’t surprised she’d left before I woke up. Hell, I half-expected it. But the disappointment that settled in my chest was deeper than it should’ve been. This wasn’t just post-hookup blues. It was… something else. Something I couldn’t make sense of. Lenora. I didn’t even know her last name. No idea where she worked or lived within the pack. Just a beautiful mystery who’d crashed into my life and left before I could begin to understand why she’d felt so important. Her scent still lingered faintly on the sheets—a mix of citrus and wildflowers. It teased me, fading by the second. My wolf stirred, claw
“Elijah?” Luka’s voice cut through the haze clouding my mind at Lenora’s presence. It took effort to tear my gaze away from her, but I managed. “Hm?” “What was that?” Luka asked, brow furrowed as he glanced back at Lenora shuffling through her papers, jaw tight. “Do you know her? The professor.” I opened my mouth to answer but stopped short. Slowly, I closed it again and shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Luka—or even Neil, who was now leaning forward to scrutinize me. But how could I explain something I didn’t fully understand myself? Whatever lingered between Lenora and me—if it even existed—felt fragile, like a thread stretched taut, ready to snap under scrutiny. This wasn’t just a night to laugh off. Something deeper simmered beneath the surface, a restless energy under my skin whenever she crossed my thoughts. It was unsettling, and the last thing I wanted was to expose it before I could untangle its meaning. And then there was her. Poised at the front
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.