0008

Rowan’s Pov

My heart stopped beating the second I opened my eyes.

I bolted upright in bed, my chest heaving and cold sweat clinging to the back of my neck. Last night's panic came rushing back all at once. The missing case. The suppressants. Bianca Wolfe holding the one thing that could completely destroy my life.

I didn't waste a second. I threw off the blanket, scrambled out of bed, and rushed into the kitchen. The suite was quiet. Asher wasn't up yet, or he had already left. Good. I couldn't look him in the eye today. Not when every single second felt like I was standing on top of a crumbling cliff.

My mission for the morning was simple: find Bianca, get my case back, and somehow stop her before she ruined everything.

By the time I reached the main academic building, my hands were shaking inside my jacket pockets. I spotted Bianca near the lockers surrounded by a couple of her friends, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and laughing loudly. I took a step forward, ready to march right up to her and demand answers.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks.

Confronting her right here in front of everyone, with zero proof and no explanation for why I had illegal scent suppressants, would be complete suicide. It wouldn't expose her; it would only make me look crazy and suspicious.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger. You look like you're about to murder someone."

I jumped, spinning around to find Mason leaning against the lockers with a half-eaten protein bar in his hand and a grin plastered across his face.

"I'm not murdering anyone," I muttered, trying to force my breathing to slow down.

Mason raised an eyebrow, following my gaze over toward Bianca's group. A knowing, amused light danced in his eyes. "Ah. I see. So you and Bianca have started a secret war. First week on campus and you're already making enemies with the popular crowd. Impressive."

"It's not a war."

"Sure looks like one," Mason teased, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Relax, Rowan. If she's giving you trouble, you just let me know. I'm great at distracting mean girls. I once made a senior cry by talking too much about frog dissection."

Despite how terrifying my life was at that exact moment, a tiny, reluctant laugh slipped past my lips. "You are an idiot, Mason."

"A loyal idiot," he corrected with a wink. "Come on. Coach is waiting for us on the ice, and if we're late, he'll make us skate until our lungs burst."

Practice was a blur of flashing sticks and freezing air. Coach Brooks paired Mason and me together for offensive drills, and for a little while, the sheer speed of the game forced the terror out of my head. Mason didn't treat me like a charity case or a weird scholarship kid who didn't belong. He passed the puck cleanly, covered my back during a brutal check from a senior defender, and treated me like a genuine teammate.

For the first time since I arrived at Silvercrest, a dangerous thought crept into my mind: I actually belong here.

And right after that thought came the crushing reality: Which means losing it is going to hurt a million times worse.

Asher was on the opposite team during the scrimmage, and I could feel his eyes burning into me the entire time. Every time we crossed paths near the blue line, he tried to maneuver close enough to talk. Every time he opened his mouth, I pivoted away, bolting down the ice or diving into a play. I couldn't talk to him. Not when my head was spinning, and his Alpha instincts were already too sharp for comfort.

After practice, I stayed behind longer than anyone else, hoping to avoid the hallways. But I couldn't hide forever.

As I walked down a narrow, empty corridor near the locker rooms, a hand suddenly shot out, grabbed my arm, and yanked me sideways into an unlit storage alcove.

I gasped, raising my hands to fight back, but froze when I saw who it was.

Bianca Wolfe stood right in front of me, her back against the wall, holding a small black metal case in her hand and clicking it open and shut with a sharp clack, clack, clack.

My blood ran cold.

"Looking for this?" Bianca whispered, her eyes gleaming with absolute triumph.

I stared at the case, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt. "Give it back, Bianca."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, smiling sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about it. "I found this sitting outside the practice rink. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found out what kind of 'vitamins' our star new Beta is taking."

"It's none of your business," I snapped, reaching out to grab it.

She jerked her hand back, keeping it just out of reach. "An Omega scent suppressant is very much my business when it's being smuggled into an elite Alpha academy. Do you have any idea what the board of directors would do to you if they saw this?"

"Please," I whispered, all my fight suddenly draining away as the terrifying magnitude of what she held crashed down on me. "Please, Bianca. Just give it back. I earned my spot here. I worked my entire life for this."

"Did you?" Bianca tilted her head, studying me like a bug under a microscope. "You lied your way in. You stole a scholarship from someone who actually belongs here."

"I can play just as well as any Alpha"

"This isn't about hockey!" Bianca hissed, her voice dropping low and sharp. "This is about rules. This is about order."

She slipped the case back into her jacket pocket and patted it deliberately.

"Are you going to tell the headmaster?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Bianca smirked, pushing past me toward the exit of the alcove. "I haven't decided yet. Suspense is much more fun. Let's see how long you can pretend to be a Beta while looking over your shoulder every single second."

She walked away, her footsteps echoing down the empty hall, leaving me trembling and furious in the dark.

I didn't go back to the locker room. I didn't wait for Mason. I stormed all the way across campus, pushed open the door to Suite 301, and slammed it behind me with a loud bang.

I was done running. If Bianca wanted a fight, I was ready to.....

I stopped dead in the entryway.

Asher was standing right there by the kitchen counter. He had his jacket off, his dark hair messy, and his expression wasn't angry or annoyed.

It was terrifyingly serious.

Before I could say a single word, he stepped forward, reached out, and slowly clicked the suite door shut behind us, locking it with a heavy, final turn of the deadbolt.

He turned around, his crystalline eyes locking onto mine with a depth that made it impossible to look away, and said the words that shattered my entire world:

"We need to talk about what you really are."