93

ALINA

Going to school every day was like stepping into someone else’s dream. Only it was mine, and I was wide awake.

The hallways smelled faintly of mixed scents and sweat. Sunlight streamed across polished floors, and laughter drifted from clusters of students who didn’t look twice at me. It was everything I’d once thought was impossible, chaotic and safe. Yet somehow, it was intoxicating.

Three days. That was all it had been, and yet the high hadn’t faded. If someone told me the world was made of unicorns and rainbows, I’d probably nod and smile like a fool. That’s how light I felt.

My lips kept tugging upward without my permission. I’d caught myself grinning at nothing, and I was sure at least a few people had already decided I was crazy.

But no one had tried to bother me. No sideways shoves, no whispered names, no cruel stares. Most of them didn’t even register that I existed and that was the most beautiful gift of all.

I hadn’t seen Alexander in those three days either. At first, I’d thought the idea might unsettle me. But I hadn’t let myself dwell on him. Because if I did, I’d have to admit I was afraid he’d notice where I was going, what I was doing, and decide to put a stop to it. And I wasn’t ready to give this up. Not when it felt like the first thing in my life that truly belonged to me.

This morning was colder than usual. A faint bite lingered in the air, curling through the open window of my room and brushing my skin. Lisa still didn’t understand why I layered my clothing more than any normal Lycan would. I’d told her it was to keep my identity a secret, easier to hide when you’re bundled up. She hadn’t argued, thankfully.

“So, I heard you have a new shadow,” she said in that casual tone she used when she already knew the answer.

“Yeah.” My reply was flat, offering nothing extra. If she wanted details, she could ask.

She just nodded, her gaze flicking over my shoulder before she dropped it. I hitched my bag onto my shoulder, ready to leave.

Classes didn’t used to make me feel this way. Back then, they’d been a weight, hours to get through, each one another chance to run into Jamie. Now I was eager. Not just because it got me out of the house, but because I actually cared about what I was learning. Every lecture, every book, every scribbled note was a step toward something I’d always wanted to do, help people.

“Do you like her?” Lisa asked suddenly.

I turned to her, blinking in surprise at the hint of hesitation in her voice. She looked down, her shoulders curling in, as if bracing for the wrong answer.

I laughed and slipped an arm around her, giving her a squeeze. “Yes, she’s nice. But she’s like a wall. Polite and distant. Boring.” I pulled back and winked. “And for the record, I like you better.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, her eyes brightening. “Good.”

“Now,” I said, stepping back, “if that’s all, I really have to go. The driver’s waiting. And if I waste a few more minutes, I might run into Alexander. I’m not ready for that.”

She made a shooing motion with both hands. “Go, go.”

I waved goodbye, feeling a lightness in my step as I headed for the stairs. I skipped the last two, letting the small jolt of landing serve as my morning exercise. At the landing, I hesitated, trying to decide betwene the kitchen or door.

My stomach grumbled, but the thought of running into Alexander tipped the scale. Better hungry than cornered.

Except I didn’t make it entirely unscathed. The sous chef intercepted me, a brown paper bag held out like an offering. “Your breakfast and lunch,” she said quickly, before vanishing back toward the clatter of pans.

I hugged the bag to my chest and pushed through the front doors. The sleek black car idled at the curb. I didn’t even pause to check the driver before I swung the door open and slid inside, my mind still elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of school, of books, of avoiding him.

I didn’t notice the seat was firmer than usual. I didn’t notice the faint warmth beneath me that wasn’t from leather. Not until the door clicked shut and the scent hit me hard.

And by then, it was too late.

I was on someone’s lap.

I froze. My body registered it before my mind did. My legs tensed as my hands gripped at air.

A deep, familiar voice brushed against my ear. “No need to panic.”

Alexander.

The syllables lodged in my throat. My mouth opened but no sound came out, just a strangled gasp. My heart was a drum in my ribs.

“It’s just me,” he said, his breath warm against my skin. “Let’s go.”

The car rolled forward.

Only then did it hit me that the driver must have been waiting for this, whoever he was. I hadn’t even looked to see if it was the usual man. I’d walked straight into it.

Alexander’s hands shifted at my waist. Gentle but firm while I stared rigidly ahead. The paper bag had slipped from my grip when I’d first sat down, landing between our feet. He reached past me, his chest brushing my back, and picked it up. Instead of returning it, he opened it and peered inside.

A low hum escaped him. “Healthy,” he murmured, almost to himself.

I swallowed, hard, and kept my eyes on the road ahead. I didn’t trust my voice. What could I even say? Oh, I’m going to school? He already knew. And it wasn’t what he was here to discuss.

Heat prickled at my eyes, but I blinked rapidly until it cleared. Crying would be a mistake. I’d done nothing wrong. He was the one who’d said I should find something to keep myself busy. Tears would only make me look guilty.

So why was he silent? Alexander liked to ask questions. He liked to corner people with them, to strip them bare until they confessed. His quiet was worse than anything he could have said.

An image of Jane tied to a chair flashed in my head. My throat closed. Not now. Don’t think about that now.

I dragged my thoughts away, but the picture clung stubbornly. In its place, I saw myself in that chair.

Is Jane even dead?

The question twisted in my chest. I shoved it down. I had enough to worry about myself, and the child growing inside me.

My hands curled into fists in my lap. I shut my eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to steady the erratic beat of my heart.

Alexander didn’t seem in any rush. He sat as if this was his rightful place, hands resting on my waist, thumbs making slow, almost absent circles against my ribs. Each small movement sank into my skin, winding through my nerves like threads of heat.

I was anything but calm. My breath came too fast. My pulse throbbed at my temples. Every instinct screamed at me to get up, to move, to put space between us.

I stayed frozen, staring ahead, wishing I could rewind the morning and choose to stay in bed, skip the stairs, ignore the waiting car. If I’d done any of that, I wouldn’t be here now, caught in his grip, with no idea what would happen next.