Chapter 12

Prue

So, did Tom beg? Of course he did – like a cute little puppy.

It was already Thursday when he finally worked up the courage to approach me in an empty hallway. I guess it took him that long to man up… or maybe to realize Daddy’s punishment wasn’t going away.

He showed up holding a box of doughnuts, mumbling something about “everyone likes these,” which – okay – was kinda sweet. Then he promised to buy me whatever I wanted. That made me smile with deep, satisfying triumph.

I toyed with him a little, telling him you can’t collect spilled water – the damage was already done, and now he had to pay for it. You should have seen the way his face went pale. That’s when he actually dropped to his knees and started begging for real.

It should’ve made me beam with victory… but my body betrayed me, going a little shy, almost embarrassed for him. So I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back up.

Then I hit him with my signature punishment: he has to read one book a week of my choosing, and come back to me to discuss it – what he learned, which parts he liked, what it made him think about. Basically, a verbal essay straight to my face. Knowledge will save this world, I'm telling you.

So, now I have his phone number. I’ve already sent him the list. We’re meeting next Friday after school. And now I’m thinking – does this mean I’m dating him or something?

I crack up inside. Goddess, it’s so funny to be me.

But today already is Friday and yesterdays troubles are long forgotton. I walk down the hallway, and something in the air feels charged – like static before a storm. There's a buzz, a hum of excitement rippling through the corridors, laughter bouncing off the lockers, footsteps quicker than usual.

Is it just because it's Friday? I frown inwardly, trying to catch snippets of the chatter swirling around me. Teenagers loving school this much? Yeah, right. I roll my eyes. Must be something else.

A party? Some legendary bash about to go down?

The suspense needles at me. I have to know what's going on or the curiosity will eat me alive. It’s not even a choice – just wired into my DNA. The thrill of not knowing gnaws at me, and even though I’m not part of whatever has everyone buzzing, I start to feel the pull of the excitement myself. It's contagious.

It takes me almost an entire period before I finally piece it together: Mr. Douchebag Alpha is turning eighteen this weekend. Of course. The school’s crowned baby prince is about to grow up. My mood deflates faster than a sad party balloon and I roll my eyes trying to move on with my day.

So that’s what all the squealing is about – girls whispering and giggling in the halls, praying to the moon Goddess they’ll be his fated mate. And the guys? They’re hyped for the shift, to catch their first glimpse of the future Alpha in his big, bad wolf form.

Ugh. I resist the urge to gag.

I mean, how can any self-respecting person want to be tied down to an arrogant, entitled, emotionally stunted womanizer? My brain goes blank trying to understand that kind of logic. But oh well – people will sell their souls for status. Human or were, doesn’t seem to matter. Shallowness has no species.

I scan the crowd, hoping for something – anything – more interesting. Some dramatic teen scandal, a fight, a breakup, a betrayal – just something juicy to sink my teeth into. But nope. Come on, Universe, nothing? I question inwardly, a little desperate. But appreantly the Universe is dry today.

Where’s the chaos when I need it? I think wrily.

My girls are being boring again – holed up in the library with their noses in books. Ugh. So nerdy. Honestly, it's enough to just pay attention in class and do the homework, and boom: you pass. The tests never go beyond that, and I doubt the exams will either. Studying more than that is just a waste of precious life energy.

Even Tessa’s ghosting today. I haven’t seen her all morning, which is tragic, because she’s the only one who can bring some sass to my soul-crushingly dull day. So boooring.

I wander through the halls aimlessly, turning corner after corner until I realize I’ve left the crowd far behind. The corridor I’ve entered is completely deserted.

What did I even think I’d find here? Probably nothing.

I sigh, half-laughing at myself, and turn on my heel. Time to head to the garden, plug in my headphones, and let my favorite podcast rescue me from the abyss of high school boredom. At least podcasts never disappoint – unlike people.

Just as I pivot to leave, a guy rounds the corner. We almost bump into each other. He glances at me, about to walk past – but then he stops, turns, and sneers.

"My friend said you're one crazy bi.tch." He throws it like a punch, sharp and meant to sting.

For a second, I’m startled. But I recover fast – mask on, smirk engaged. I bet I know exactly who his friend is. Tom. Who else?

I tilt my head slightly, eyes narrowing with amusement rather than anger.

"I was just teasing your friend," I say smoothly, sly as a fox, voice honeyed with mischief.

Let the games begin.

“Teasing? You call that teasing?”

He frowns at me, his whole face twisted like he just bit into a lemon.

I tap my chin theatrically.

“Hmm, let me think... Did I hire an assassin to chop off his dick and feed it to the neighborhood dogs like I did at my last school?”

I pause, staring past his head, my gaze going glassy as I picture it all in vivid, gruesome detail – so clearly that my body starts to believe it actually happened. That’s the perfect way to make them feel it deep in their gut – like maybe, just maybe, I’m not bluffing, and this twisted sh.it might actually be true.

“Nope. So yeah – definitely just teasing.” I deadpan, locking eyes with his startled gray ones.

His face screws up tighter, somewhere between disbelief and concern for his personal safety.

“You’re bullshi.tting,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction.

I take a slow step forward, into his personal space. He instinctively leans back, but I follow like a shadow – completely intimidated, just as I intended.

“Ever wondered why I transferred mid-semester to this God-forsaken town?” I ask, my voice low and silken.

“You think I just wanted a change of scenery? Some small-town charm?”

My gaze locks on his, and I can see his brain scrambling for answers.

"Do you even know where I was before this? What I did?"

I ask rhetorically, watching as his eyes flick nervously from mine to my mouth and back again, scanning my face like the truth might be written somewhere between my smirk and the shadows in my eyes.

I lean in close, lips just inches from his ear, and whisper – loud enough to make him flinch:

“Here’s a little secret. Even as we speak, my bodyguard is watching us through the scope of his sniper rifle. One twitch in my direction, and – boom – you’ll be splattered across the hall. So if you ever see a red dot between your eyes… duck.”

I snap that last word like a whip.

He stumbles back, eyes wide, pulse hammering in his throat like a trapped rabbit.

“You’re a psycho!”

He spits it out and practically sprints away, his footsteps thudding like a panicked metronome.

I throw my head back and let out a full-blown villainous witch cackle – echoing through the empty hallway like I’m auditioning for a Disney reboot.

“Run along, sweetheart! The halls are no place for the faint of heart!”

His retreating footsteps pound like war drums. His pride tries to keep pace with his fear, but it’s a losing battle. Poor boy.

I sigh in satisfaction, a bright, happy smile spreading across my face like sunshine after a storm. God, people are so easy to mess with. I spin on my heel and strut toward the Math hallway.

Final period of the day. Just one more hour of pretending to care about numbers, and then – freedom!

I sing the word in my head like a Broadway finale:

“Do-o-one!”

Let’s hear it for Friday victories and traumatizing boys before lunchtime. I think with a grin plastered across my face.