Chapter 2

The room went quiet. People stopped talking and stared. I could feel their eyes on me like a spotlight.

I swallowed, my heart racing. “I don’t think,” I said, my voice shaking. “I know.”

“It’s the bond,” I added quickly. “You must feel it too…..”

“What I feel,” Gerald cut in, his voice sharp, “is embarrassment. You? My mate? Don’t make me laugh.”

Laughter spread through the crowd. Someone lifted their phone and started recording.

“I don’t want an omega,” Gerald went on, every word filled with disgust. “You are weak, pathetic, and useless. You’d only hold me back. It's a slap on my face to be your mate.”

His words hit me like claws across my skin. My wolf whimpered inside me and pulled away. My cheeks burned, not with anger, but with shame.

"I can't be that cheap. Of all guys to pick, your wolf chose me. You will always be a filthy thing to me.”

Gerald said to me. I felt pained and sad. All eyes were on me and I hoped for the ground to open and swallow me, but it wasn't possible.

“Gerald, stop….. How can you be mean and this wicked? Enough of the embarrassment.” Tessa called, trying to push her way to me, but he had already turned his back if I didn’t matter.

The laughter grew louder. “Did you hear that? Rejected,” someone whispered, though everyone had.

My chest hurt so much I could barely breathe. I turned and shoved through the crowd, ignoring the laughs and the flash of camera phones. By the time I reached the door, my vision was blurred with tears.

The cool night air hit my face, but it didn’t help. My lungs felt tight and my legs were weak. I kept walking past the parking lot and the campus buildings until the party’s music faded into the distance.

Along the main road, I saw a small bar with a flickering neon sign. It didn’t look like a place students usually went but it was perfect.

I pushed the door open. Inside, the air smelled of whiskey and fried food. The quiet hum of conversation filled the space. The bartender glanced up from polishing a glass.

"Rough night?” he asked.

“Something like that,” I muttered, sliding onto a stool. “Whiskey. Neat.”

He studied me for a second, maybe noticing my red eyes and trembling hands, but then poured the drink and set it in front of me.

The first sip burned my throat, but I welcomed the pain.

“One more,” I said before the glass was even down.

“I'm short of words. Today is the worst day of my life. I was rejected. That was embarrassing.” I said to the bartender, as if he cared about me.

“Sorry about that.” He replied.

By the third drink, the sharp pain in my chest had dulled to a heavy ache. I stared into the glass, trying not to hear Gerald’s voice in my head. Trying not to remember the laughter, or the word ‘weak’ hanging in the air.

I lifted the glass again, ignoring the way the bartender’s eyebrow lifted as he slid another for me. My phone buzzed on the counter. It was

Tessa’s name flashing again and again but I shoved it into my pocket without looking.

I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want anyone telling me it was going to be okay. Not after Gerald’s words had cut me open in front of everyone.

“Another one?” the bartender asked.

“Keep them coming,” I said.

A few seats down, a man sat with his elbows on the counter, nursing his drink. He was tall, built, and he was wearing a baseball cap shadowing most of his face. But even with the shadow, I could feel his eyes on me. Not in the luring way I had come to expect, but in a way that felt sharper.

I didn’t look back.

Still, I noticed him get up a while later, moving toward the staircase at the far end of the bar. The stranger in the cap disappeared up the steps, and for some reason, my eyes followed until he was gone.

I slid off my stool, swaying more than I’d like to admit, and decided I needed the bathroom before I embarrassed myself further.

“Are you taking your leave now?” the bartender asked me.

“How much is everything?” I asked, sounding drunk.

“It's twenty dollars .” the bartender answered me.

I moved forward. “I’ll make payments when I'm back. I need to use the restroom.” I pushed through a narrow hallway, blinking against the dim light.

I must’ve taken a wrong turn.

The door I opened wasn’t the restroom, it was a softly lit room upstairs. A man sat on the edge of the bed with dark hair as he raked a hand through it. When his eyes lifted to mine, my breath caught.

“I think you’re lost,” he said. His voice was low, warm, with a rasp that slid over my skin.

“I……yeah,” I stammered, taking a half-step back.

Something shifted in the air. My wolf stirred under my skin, restless at the scent rolling off him. I should’ve left. I knew that. But the humiliation, the rejection, and the alcohol tangled in my veins and shoved me forward instead of pulling me away.

“You don’t look okay,” he murmured.

I let out a weak laugh. “That’s generous. You are quite handsome by the way.”

“Sit.” He patted the bed beside him.

I hesitated, then sat. My shoulder brushed his, and a sharp spark shot through me.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“You could say that. Worst night ever to be specific.” My eyes flicked to his jaw, sharp and shadowed. “And you? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“My friends think they’re funny,” he said with a faint, tired smile. “They’re not.”

Silence fell, humming between us. My pulse went faster, not from fear, but something dangerously close to longing. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I forgot how to breathe.

"You should probably......." I began,but he leaned in,slow enough for me to pull away.