Chapter 3

The next morning, I carried the freshly printed transfer application to the administrative wing of Central Wolf Academy.

The registrar stamped the document.

That was when someone stepped into my path.

Lucien frowned slightly that once would have triggered a reflex in me—an instinct to soothe, to accommodate, to take responsibility for his discomfort.

That instinct did not surface.

“Vivienne,” he said, mild displeasure threading his voice, “did you reset the scent wards at your house?”

He spoke as if we were still operating under old assumptions.

“After I walked Olivia home last night, I went to check on you,” he continued. “The perimeter rejected me completely.”

I didn’t let him finish.

“Yes,” I said. “I reset them.”

He paused. His jaw tightened—annoyed, but not alarmed.

“Then update my access,” he said. “It’ll be easier for me to stop by and take care of you.”

“There’s no need,” I replied calmly. “Once I transfer, I won’t be living there anymore.”

His gaze finally dropped to the folded document in my hand.

“Oh. Right,” he said lightly. “I nearly forgot about that. Don’t worry. I’ll come stamp it tomorrow.”

Walking beside him like this—trading surface-level words, maintaining the appearance of familiarity—had become increasingly rare ever since Olivia Miller enrolled at Central Academy.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, wanting one final confirmation.

I said quietly. “What exactly are we to each other now?”

Lucien froze.

For a moment, it seemed as though he might finally say something honest.

“Vivienne, actually, I—”

“Lucien.”

Olivia Miller appeared behind him, her omega scent carefully restrained into something soft and unobtrusive.

“Didn’t we agree you’d help me review today?” she asked gently. “I waited, but you disappeared.”

She handed him the notebooks.

“I saw you planned my tutoring schedule almost a month in advance,” she added. “So I organized everything to match.”

Then she smiled, self-conscious, thoughtful.

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked. I know I was only admitted because the Council granted me special enrollment after my parents died defending pack territory. I don’t want to waste the opportunity.”

Her words were flawless.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Lucien replied at once.

He glanced at me as he spoke, a flicker of guilt crossing his face—only to stiffen when he saw that I had no reaction at all.

That guilt shifted into unease.

I realized he was already planning a future with someone else while pushing me away.

I kept my expression smooth, even as something bitter settled quietly in my chest.

“You two should talk,” I said. “I’ll go.”

Olivia looked at me then, as though noticing my presence for the first time.

“Vivienne…”

She hesitated, then spoke carefully.

“Are you upset because Lucien is helping me study?”

Her gaze lowered.

“I don’t have access to bloodline tutors or private mentors like you do. If I crossed a line, I’m sorry.”

There was no accusation.Only implication.

I did not engage.“Move.”

Lucien’s restraint snapped.

He grabbed my wrist, claws pressing just enough to sting.

“Vivienne Everhart,” he said coldly. “Watch your tone.”

He pulled me forward, positioning me directly in front of Olivia.

“Apologize.”

Something inside me finally settled.

I didn’t hesitate.

My hand connected with his face in a clean, decisive strike—the sound sharp, unmistakable, echoing through the corridor as nearby students froze and turned.

“Lucien,” I said calmly, meeting his eyes without flinching, “the one who owes an apology is you.”

I withdrew my hand.

“Not to Olivia Miller,” I continued evenly. “But to me.”

For the first time, his wolf didn’t surge in anger.

It recoiled.

Lucien stood there, stunned, his jaw slack, as if something he had always taken for granted had finally slipped beyond his reach.

I turned away and walked past him.

The corridor fell into a brittle silence.

No one dared step forward.