Chapter 16

Prue

I walked down the empty corridors, the silence only broken by the faint hum of classroom chatter behind closed doors. Everyone else was where they were supposed to be. Me? Not so much.

Shoo, I muttered under my breath. Principle didn’t give us the pass. Oh well. I always manage to slide out of trouble when I want to. It’s practically a talent.

I rounded the corner – and bam. A hand clamped around my elbow and yanked me to the side with force.

“What the– ” I barely managed to say before slamming into a broad chest. My heart stuttered. Heat rushed through me.

Andrew.

Oh, fu.ck.

He’d caught me off guard. That was rare. My pulse hammered in my throat. What was he going to do? Yell at me? Threaten me?

Or… kiss me?

But no. His face was hard, unreadable. Alpha mask on. Not a trace of softness.

“Which pack are you from?” he demanded.

I raised a brow. “Why does it matter?”

“Just answer my dam.n question,” he snapped, tone clipped.

I gave him a crooked smile, cocking my head. “Is this your idea of starting small talk with your mate?”

His eyes darkened. “No. I need to fix one tiny red problem I have.”

My stomach sank, but my brain kicked into overdrive. I’m not stupid. I can read between the lines. And I’d seen this kind of scene before – in stories, in whispered gossip, in nightmares. I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Oh,” I said, tilting my head again, lips curling in amusement. “You’re planning to reject me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, cold as winter. “It would make my life so much easier. Besides I will never ever accept a disgusting lone wolf as my Luna.” He spat in anger and disgust.

I threw my head back and laughed – loud and unfiltered. I clutched my belly as if I couldn’t hold myself together. The corridor echoed with the sound of my cackling.

Tears prickled the corners of my eyes.

The Big Bad Alpha didn’t seem to appreciate the show. His jaw clenched. His fists balled. His nostrils flared.

“What’s so fu.cking funny?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

I straightened, wiped the tears off my face, and stared directly into his eyes.

And then I said it, calm and deadly:

“I will never accept your rejection. I’d rather drag your soul through hell with an incomplete bond – let you suffer the slow burn of depression, desperation, and betrayal – than ever free you up for a second-chance mate or some hand-picked, moon-blessed bride. Am. I. Clear?” I spoke every word slowly, like a dagger being slid into a wound.

He growled, low and dangerous. I saw it in his eyes – rage. Confusion. A hint of fear.

Maybe I am stupid. Maybe I should just walk away from this arrogant, emotionally constipated Alpha. But that would happen on my terms. When I was ready to be free from this bond. When the Alpha had learned a valuable lesson for life.

Sure, I’d have to break a few jagged parts off his personality – but I could work with raw material. He had potential. I was sure of it.

I bumped my shoulder against his chest, not bothering to hide the smirk on my face, and elbowed past him.

I needed space. His presence was getting into my head as my body buzzed with tingles and excitement, making me dizzy in the worst – and maybe best – way. It was dangerous, because it suddenly felt like the kind of dizzy that ends in a kiss you regret later.

But I sure as hell wasn’t about to put my lips on that disgusting mouth – a mouth that had swapped spit with Goddess knows how many random sluts. Nope. Not today.

I pushed open the classroom door, and every head spun in my direction, including Mrs. Thornwell’s – the human embodiment of barbed wire in a pencil skirt.

“You’re late, Miss,” she said, eyebrows climbing toward her graying hairline.

No shi.t, Sherlock, I thought, clenching my jaw to stop the words from escaping.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Thornwell.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits.

“Perhaps a visit to the principal is in order?”

“Just coming from there.” I folded my arms, matching her energy. A few students snorted into their sleeves.

She clicked her tongue. “Already in trouble. Why am I not surprised?”

I wasn’t offended. If anything, I was flattered by how much she disliked me. From what I could tell, she didn’t hate me, specifically. She hated teenagers in general. Like we were some infuriating subspecies of mosquito she longed to swat out of existence.

I shrugged.

“Where’s the pass, then?”

“He forgot to give it to me.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“You can call him.” Another shrug.

She squinted at me, clearly weighing the effort of making that call versus letting it slide.

“Sit down. I’ll confirm after class.”

I slid into the nearest empty seat without protest. I wasn’t worried. History was easy. Names. Dates. Dead men with God complexes.

I really don’t get this part about our history as humans – why are we forced to memorize all the wars and the names of emperors who killed, enslaved, and abused others just to satisfy their own narcissistic, psychopathic desires, who bathed in blood and tears for power and money?

Why don’t we learn about the mothers – those who carried ten, even twelve kids in their bellies, gave birth, and then raised them on nothing but scraps and prayer?

Why do we spend so much time studying Hitler and his horrendous acts, but barely mention the real heroes? The ones who hid Jews in basements or attics. The ones who forged documents, lied with shaking voices and smuggled children across borders just to give them a chance to live.

Why were we taught to fear tyrants but not admire the ones who resisted them? That’s the kind of history I want to remember.

I stared at the board, pen in hand, but my thoughts drifted far from the lesson.

They were back in that hallway – with him. And this stupid, burning bond between us.

I still felt dizzy from everything that had happened in last few hours. I was just a kid in high school, and yet – I’d already found my mate. Way too early. This wasn’t in the plan. I hadn’t even started exploring the world beyond the States’ borders. I hadn’t had a threesome, hadn’t hooked up with a black guy packing an elephant between his legs, hadn’t kissed a girl, and a hundred other things that suddenly felt like they were slipping right through my fingers – gone before I ever got to touch them.

This was… depressing. My face twisted, the kind of expression you make when you bite into something that should be sweet but tastes rotten. I’d honestly believed that finding my mate would be a happy moments in my life – something fun, joyful, and thrilling. Instead, it felt doomed from the start. Heavy. Wrong. The kind of moment that doesn’t make your heart race with excitement, but sink like a stone in cold water.