Chapter 4

Chapter 4

EVANGELINE POINT OF VIEW

The second I step through the school doors the next morning, I know something has changed. The air feels different. Charged with malice. Students who barely noticed me yesterday now track my every movement with predatory eyes.

My hands shake as I clutch my backpack straps tighter. The bruise on my chest where the bond sits aches with each heartbeat. Sleep didn't come last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. Heard his voice cutting me down in front of everyone.

*Stay away from me.*

The memory burns like acid in my throat.

I keep my head down and walk toward my locker. Each step feels like walking through quicksand. Heavy. Wrong. Like I'm moving toward something terrible.

A group of sophomore girls stands by the water fountain. They see me coming and start whispering. Their voices carry across the hallway like poison.

"There she is."

"The one who tried to force herself on Ronan."

"Pathetic."

My cheeks burn. I duck my head lower and walk faster. But there's nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. They're everywhere.

At my locker, I fumble with the combination. My fingers won't work right. Too shaky. Too clumsy. The metal feels ice-cold against my skin. My wolf whimpers in the back of my mind, sensing danger everywhere.

Someone bumps into me hard. My books scatter across the floor. Papers fly everywhere.

"Oops," a voice says. "Sorry about that."

I look up to see Derek Morgan, one of Ronan's friends from the cafeteria. He's not sorry at all. His smile is cruel. Satisfied.

"You should be more careful," he continues, stepping on one of my notebooks as I try to gather my things. "Accidents happen to clumsy people."

Other students walk by. Some laugh. Others pretend not to see. No one helps.

I scramble to collect my papers, but Derek keeps moving. Keeps stepping on things. Keeps making it impossible for me to clean up the mess.

"Problem here?" another voice asks.

I look up to see Jake Williams, another one of Ronan's inner circle. His presence makes my wolf cower inside me. Alpha energy radiates from him in waves.

"No problem," Derek grins. "Just helping our new student understand how things work around here."

Jake's eyes are cold as winter steel. "Some people need extra help learning their place."

They're not talking about accidents anymore. This is a message. A warning.

I finally manage to gather my things and stand up. My legs feel like water. My whole body trembles with fear and rage and something deeper. Something that hurts worse than physical pain.

"Smart girl," Jake says as I hurry away. "Keep being smart."

The threat follows me down the hallway. Settles in my bones like ice.

In first period, no one will sit near me. Students who shared tables with me yesterday suddenly find other seats. The isolation is complete. Total.

Professor Kane notices but doesn't say anything. His eyes hold sympathy, but sympathy won't protect me from what's coming.

During the lesson, someone throws a crumpled paper at my head. It bounces off and falls to the floor. I don't turn around. Don't react. Showing weakness will only make things worse.

The paper says: "Omega whore."

My vision blurs. I blink hard and focus on the board. Force myself to take notes. To pretend I'm fine when everything inside me is screaming.

Another paper hits me. Then another.

"Delusional bitch."

"Know your place."

"Alpha rejects don't belong here."

Each word is a knife between my ribs. Each insult designed to remind me of yesterday's humiliation. Of the moment my world fell apart in front of everyone.

My wolf curls deeper inside me, wounded and ashamed. But somewhere beneath the pain, something else stirs. Something that whispers: *One day, they'll all regret this. Every single one of them.*

The thought surprises me with its fierceness. I push it down quickly. I'm not ready for defiance. Not yet.

The bell rings. Students file out quickly, their conversations buzzing with excitement. They're enjoying this. Feeding off my misery like vultures.

I escape to the nearest bathroom and lock myself in the farthest stall. Press my back against the cold door and finally let myself breathe. The silence wraps around me like a blanket.

For just a moment, I close my eyes and imagine Uncle Marcus's voice. *"Be brave, little wolf,"* he used to whisper when nightmares woke me up. *"You're stronger than you know."*

But I don't feel strong. I feel broken. Shattered into pieces I don't know how to put back together.

A tear slides down my cheek. Then another. I wipe them away quickly. Crying won't fix this. Nothing will.

"Miss Cross?" Professor Kane's voice is gentle.

I look up with eyes that feel swollen from holding back tears.

"Are you alright?"

The question almost breaks me. Because no, I'm not alright. I'm drowning. Suffocating under the weight of everyone's hatred.

"I'm fine," I whisper.

He doesn't believe me. "If you need to talk..."

"I said I'm fine."

He nods sadly and lets me go.

The hallway is a gauntlet of hostile faces. Students part around me like I'm diseased. Their whispers follow me everywhere.

"Did you see what happened yesterday?"

"She actually thought Ronan Nightbane would want her."

"Omegas are so desperate."

"Someone should put her out of her misery."

The last comment makes my blood run cold. There's real menace in it. Real threat.

In second period, my lab partner from yesterday has switched seats. The teacher assigns me to work alone. Again. The message is clear: I'm toxic now. Untouchable.

During the experiment, someone "accidentally" knocks over my beaker. Chemicals splash across my notes, destroying hours of work. The liquid burns my skin where it touches.

"So sorry," the girl says with fake sweetness. "How clumsy of me."

I clean up the mess in silence. My hands sting from the chemical burn, but I don't complain. Don't ask for help. There's no point.

At lunch, I take my tray to the same table as yesterday. Luna isn't there. Neither are the other students who seemed friendly. I sit alone in the corner, surrounded by empty chairs.

The cafeteria buzzes with conversation, but it dies when I walk by. Heads turn. Eyes stare. Whispers follow.

I try to eat, but the food tastes like ash in my mouth. My stomach churns with anxiety. With the sick certainty that this is only the beginning.

A shadow falls across my table. I look up to see three girls standing there. Alphas, judging by their confident stance and predatory smiles.

"Mind if we sit?" the leader asks. She doesn't wait for an answer.

They settle around me like wolves cornering prey. Their scents are expensive perfume and barely contained violence.

"We wanted to introduce ourselves," the leader continues. Her name tag says 'Madison.' "Since you're new and all."

I don't respond. Every instinct screams danger.

"We heard about your little performance yesterday," another girl adds. "With Ronan."

His name hits like a physical blow. The bond in my chest throbs with agony.

"That was so brave," Madison says with false admiration. "Throwing yourself at someone so far above your station. Really showed everyone what Omegas are capable of."

Their laughter scrapes my ears raw. My wolf cringes back, tail between her legs, too humiliated to even growl. The scent of their expensive perfume mixes with something sharper. Satisfaction. They're enjoying my pain.

"But now we're worried about you," the third girl chimes in. "All alone. No friends. No protection."

"This school can be dangerous for wolves without a pack," Madison adds. "Accidents happen. People get hurt."

The threat is crystal clear. I'm being hunted. Marked for destruction.

"We want to help," Madison continues. "Make sure you understand how things work here."

She reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. Her nails dig into my skin hard enough to leave marks. My wolf snarls low in my chest, more wounded than angry. I force her down. There's no point in fighting a war we've already lost.

"Rule one: Know your place. You're an Omega. Bottom of the food chain. You don't speak unless spoken to. Don't look Alphas in the eye. Don't think you deserve anything more than scraps."

Her grip tightens. I can feel bruises forming.

"Rule two: Stay away from your betters. That means Alphas. Betas. Anyone with actual worth."

"Rule three," the second girl adds, "remember that you're only here on charity. One word from the right person, and you're gone."

They're talking about Ronan. About how easily he could destroy what little I have left.

"Understand?" Madison asks.

I nod because I have no choice.

"Good girl." She releases my wrist and stands. "We'll be watching you. Making sure you follow the rules."

They walk away laughing. Their conversation carries across the cafeteria, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Did you see her face?"

"So pathetic."

"Ronan was right to reject her."

"Omegas never learn."

I look down at my wrist. Five perfect nail marks bloom purple against my pale skin. Physical proof of what I've become.

A target.

The rest of lunch passes in a haze of hostile stares and cruel whispers. Every time I look up, someone is watching me. Judging me. Finding me lacking.

When the bell rings, I dump my untouched food and head for the exit. But the hallway brings no relief. If anything, it's worse.

Someone trips me. I catch myself before falling, but my dignity is already gone.

"Watch where you're going, Omega," a voice calls.

Laughter echoes off the walls.

In third period, I find a note taped to my desk: "Sluts don't belong in advanced classes."

The teacher either doesn't notice or doesn't care. I crumple the paper and shove it in my bag with the others.

During fourth period, someone dumps water on my chair before I sit down. My clothes soak through immediately. I spend the rest of class cold and wet and humiliated.

"Accidents happen," the culprit shrugs when I glare at her.

By the time school ends, I'm exhausted. Defeated. Every cruel word and hostile glare has chipped away at my defenses until there's nothing left.

I walk to my locker in a daze. My reflection in the metal door shows a girl I barely recognize. Hollow-eyed. Broken. A shadow of who I was yesterday.

The combination won't work. I try three times before realizing someone has superglued the lock. Vandalized my only safe space.

Hot tears burn my eyes. I lean my forehead against the cold metal and let them fall.

This is my life now. This is what Ronan's rejection has cost me.

Everything.

"Having trouble?" a familiar voice asks.

I turn to see Luna standing there. Her face is carefully neutral, but I can see pity in her eyes.

"I'm fine," I lie.

"No, you're not." She steps closer. "What they're doing to you... it's not right."

"It's what I deserve," I whisper. The words taste like poison.

"No one deserves this."

But she's wrong. I reached too high. Wanted something I had no right to want. And now I'm paying the price.

"Why are you talking to me?" I ask. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Her eyes flick down the hall nervously before she speaks. Something flickers across her face. Fear, maybe. Or guilt.

"I just wanted you to know," she says quietly, "you think Ronan's rejection was the worst part? That was just his opening move. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

The words hit like ice water. There's knowledge in her voice. Like she knows something I don't.

"What do you mean?"

But she's already walking away. Already distancing herself from the toxic waste of my existence.

I stand there alone in the empty hallway, understanding finally sinking in.

This isn't random bullying. This isn't just cruel teenagers being cruel.

This is organized. Planned. Orchestrated.

Ronan didn't just reject me yesterday.

He declared war.