Chapter 7

Evelyn's POV

The apartment lock gave a quiet electronic beep.

The entryway was dark, with only a soft, warm glow spilling from the kitchen. Harper was probably still up waiting for me.

I kicked off my shoes and skipped the kitchen, heading straight for the end of the hallway.

Nora's door was cracked open.

I pushed it gently. A small orange nightlight illuminated a corner of the bed.

Nora was curled up in her blanket, a tiny ball with her knees tucked to her chest. One hand gripped the edge of the covers while the other rested near her pillow, fingers slightly curled.

Her soft, tawny-gold hair brushed against her cheeks, moving slightly with every breath.

She was out cold—the sound of the door didn't even make her flinch.

I stood by the bed, watching the light cast long, delicate shadows of her lashes across her face. Her lips were parted slightly, and she let out a tiny, soft sigh.

I reached out, my fingers hovering just an inch above her forehead.

"Better not wake her."

I backed out and pulled the door shut.

The kitchen light was on. Harper was standing by the table, her apron perfectly tied. She handed me a glass of water as I sat down.

"Harper."

"Yeah?"

"How was Nora at the Academy today?"

Harper wiped her hands on her apron and sat across from me, looking a bit hesitant. "The teacher said Nora cried once."

My hand tightened around the glass.

"She said she was just homesick," Harper added quickly, noticing my expression. "She teared up during outdoor activities, but the teacher held her for a bit and she was fine. She played with the other pups until pickup."

Harper paused, then continued, "The teacher said it wasn't a big problem. It's normal for kids who just transferred to act like this."

I nodded and said nothing.

Harper paused, then her voice took on a disapproving edge.

"There's something else. Nora seems to have met an older boy."

I looked up.

"He's much older, in the upper grades," Harper said, frowning slightly. "Nora was so excited. She talked about him the whole way home, saying how 'cool' he was and how she wanted to be his friend."

She stopped for a moment.

"But the boy didn't seem to want anything to do with her. Nora said he actually pushed her away. She didn't cry when she got home, but she was really quiet. She just sat in the living room and drew for a long time."

Harper's voice dropped, her protective streak showing.

"A five-year-old girl tries to play, and he pushes her? I don't know who raised that boy, but it's incredibly rude."

My fingers clenched.

Harper kept talking—teacher feedback, Nora's crafts, her afternoon snack—but I wasn't really listening.

All I could think about was how hurt Nora must have felt being rejected.

I finished my water and stood up.

"Got it. Get some sleep."

She responded and began tidying up the table.

I walked out of the kitchen. In the darkness, my wolf let out a soft, almost inaudible whimper.

The next morning, Nora didn't even wait to cuddle. She scrambled out of bed, got dressed, and ran to the front door, banging on it. "Hurry, Mommy! Let's go!"

We left twenty minutes early. Nora kicked her legs in her car seat the whole way, clutching her backpack so tight she forgot to zip it all the way.

"Faster, Mommy, faster!"

I opened the car door and she flew out like a little bird.

I felt a pang of sadness seeing her so desperate to leave me.

"If something happens, tell the teacher," I said softly, holding her shoulders. "Don't let anyone bully you."

I knelt down to fix her zipper.

She nodded, her eyes bright, but she wasn't really listening. She patted my cheek with her soft little hand.

"Don't worry, Mommy!"

Then she turned and bolted.

Her backpack bounced against her back, her golden hair shimmering in the morning sun. She didn't even look back.

I stayed there, kneeling on the pavement, my hands still shaped like I was holding her face.

I had no idea that hidden in her bag was a drawing.

She had sneaked into my studio and taken it from the bottom drawer—the sketches I thought I'd locked away, all of the same boy. She wanted that boy to like her before she told me.

I stood up, and right then, a boy with tawny-gold hair ran past me. His backpack straps were sliding off his shoulders as he hurried toward the entrance.

My heart stopped.

That silhouette. The width of his shoulders. The way he leaned forward when he ran, the way his hair caught the wind.

"Ethan."

No way.

I dug my nails into my palms.

Adrian would never send him to this school. The Alpha heir of the Blackwoods belonged in the elite academies of the North District, not here.