Chapter 9: Wild

Skye's POV

I’m still puzzled by the way Damian’s behavior suddenly shifted toward me. It’s like a switch flipped overnight. One day, he was the cold, untouchable Alpha’s son who barely acknowledged I existed, and the next he’s looking at me like I mean something. Like I matter.

And I hate how much that confuses me.

I should feel grateful, maybe. Or flattered. But all I feel is a giant, tangled mess inside my chest. Anxiety, dread, curiosity—yeah, that’s there too—and this low, aching pulse that tightens every time I sense him near.

I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t want to be tied to someone who let me fade into the background while I fought tooth and nail to survive each day in this pack. I didn’t want the Moon Goddess to bind me to someone who stood by while I was nothing but a target.

But she did.

Of all the wolves in the world, she tied me to him

And now I’m Damian’s mate. Just great.

I don’t even know what that means. What it’s supposed to look like. I’m not like the other girls in the pack who grew up dreaming of their mate sweeping them off their feet. I just wanted to be free. To be left alone. To breathe without worrying about who was laughing behind my back.

But the bond doesn’t care what I want.

It tugs at me constantly. Like a thread woven through my ribs, pulling tight every time I try to move on. And worse—he tugs at it too. With his stares. His presence. His silence that suddenly feels meaningful instead of empty.

I sigh as I trudge up the school steps, each one heavier than the last. The cold wind nips at my cheeks, and my worn-out hoodie does little to shield me. I tug the sleeves down over my hands, trying to disappear into the fabric like it’s a second skin.

No one knows I’m Damian’s mate.

And that should make me safer. Less of a target. But it doesn’t.

If anything, it makes everything worse.

The Moon Goddess may have bound me to the most powerful wolf in our pack, but the rest of them? They still see me as the same pathetic, rankless omega they can shove around for fun. Nothing has changed—except everything inside me.

My wolf is restless now, coiled beneath my skin. She hates the way they look at us. The way they smirk and whisper and laugh. She wants to fight back.

But I don’t.

I’ve learned the hard way what happens when I try.

I’m halfway down the hall, almost to the door of my classroom, when she appears—Lidia. Of course. Her honey-blonde curls are perfect as always, her makeup flawless, her claws polished and ready for war.

She steps directly into my path, forcing me to stop short.

“Well, well,” she drawls, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear. “Still shopping in the donation bin, I see.”

A few snickers echo behind her, her little group of wolves standing just close enough to feel brave, just far enough to let her do the dirty work.

I clench my jaw, eyes glued to the floor. Don’t react. Don’t give them the satisfaction. If I keep walking, maybe—

“Oh, come on, Skye,” Lidia laughs, reaching out to tug at the frayed hem of my hoodie.

“You could at least try to look presentable. I mean, even the cafeteria rats have more style than you.”

My cheeks burn. I try to sidestep her, but she shifts with me, blocking my path again. Her smile sharpens.

“I wonder,” she says, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “how a mutt like you even got into this school. Do you clean the Alpha’s shoes on the weekends or something?”

My wolf growls inside me, low and furious.

I open my mouth to say something to defend myself, to finally snap but then Lidia moves.

Her hand darts forward, sharp with intent. She grabs the edge of my hoodie again, this time yanking hard to pull it down—like she's trying to expose me. Rip away my last layer of comfort. Make a spectacle of me for the hallway crowd gathering like vultures.

She wants me humiliated. She wants me broken in front of everyone.

But a blur cuts through the space between us—commanding and furious.

It was none other than Damian.

His hand shoots out, catching her wrist mid-motion. Not roughly, but with a firm, unyielding grip that makes her freeze on contact. Her gasp is sharp and breathless. The hallway, once buzzing with whispers and laughter, goes deathly still. Not a sound. Not a breath.

Everyone is watching.

“Enough,” Damian says, his voice low and final.

The weight of that one word silences everything else. It slams into the air like a warning shot.

Lidia stares up at him, her mouth open, blinking like she can’t quite process what just happened.

“D-Damian?” she says, her voice small, uncertain.

This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go—for her. Damian wasn’t supposed to step in for me.

But he doesn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes are on me.

Dark. Intense. Unreadable.

“You don’t touch her,” he says again, this time even lower—like it’s a vow carved in stone. “Not ever.”

Lidia’s mouth opens again, fumbling for some excuse. “But she—she’s just—”

“I don’t care,” he snaps, his tone sharpening like a blade.

“You lay a hand on her again, and you’ll find out what real consequences look like.”

His fingers release her wrist slowly, deliberately, like he wants her to feel his rage. Her face is flushed with shock and anger. But she doesn’t fight back. Not against him.

Damian grabbed my hand before I could even react, his grip firm but not painful—just enough to make it clear there was no room to argue.

The hallway buzzed behind us, students whispering, eyes wide, jaws dropped. Lidia stood frozen in place, her mouth parted in disbelief, watching as the boy who was supposed to be hers—chose me.

Me. The invisible omega. The pack’s unwanted charity case.

He didn’t even look back at her.

Without a word, he pulled me through the crowd, cutting through the maze of hallways and corridors until the school noise faded behind us. I didn’t know where we were going until he led me out through a back door, toward the abandoned training lot behind the campus. The place was mostly forgotten now. Just old wooden dummies, dry grass, and just us.

Damian let go of my hand once we were in the middle of the lot. The sudden absence of his touch sent a weird jolt through my chest, like the bond was protesting the distance.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My heart was still racing, blood rushing in my ears, and the echo of what just happened in the hallway kept looping in my mind.

He defended me. In front of everyone. He humiliated Lidia to do it.

Why?

When I finally dared to glance up, Damian was already staring at me. Like he hadn’t taken his eyes off me once. His gaze was heavy—intense, like he could see straight through me, past the layers I’d tried so hard to hide behind.

And then he moved.

He took a few steps forward, slow and purposeful, until we were only an arm’s length apart. Maybe less. Close enough that I could feel the shift in the air, the magnetic pull between us that only grew stronger the longer I stood there.

My wolf went wild inside me—pacing, whining, thrumming with excitement. She clawed at my insides, desperate to bridge the distance, to feel him against us, inside us.

The heat started to rise in my body—first in my chest, then crawling down my arms and back up my neck.

“Take off your clothes.”