The Summons

Monday morning felt like walking to my own execution.

I stood outside the Financial Aid office at exactly nine o’clock. My hands were sweating despite the cold. Through the glass door, I could see Director Calista at her desk. She looked up, saw me, and waved me in.

The office smelled like old paper and bitter coffee. Director Calista was a small woman with gray hair pulled back tightly. She’d always been nice to me before. Professional but kind.

Today her face was stone.

“Sit down, Ms. Hale.”

I sat in the chair across from her desk. My backpack felt heavy on my lap. Like I could use it as a shield if needed.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here,” she said.

“The gala.”

“The incident at the gala, yes.” She pulled out a folder. Opened it. “We’ve received several complaints about your behavior Saturday night.”

Several? I’d messed up with one person. How did that turn into several complaints?

“It was an accident,” I said. “I was helping serve drinks because they were short-staffed. I didn’t see Mr. Valor behind me.”

“That’s not what the reports say.”

“What do the reports say?”

She pulled out a printed email. Started reading. “Unprofessional conduct. Inappropriate behavior toward a donor family member. Destruction of personal property valued at eight thousand dollars.”

My stomach twisted. “Who filed these complaints?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

But I could guess. Madison. Maybe her friends. Probably her father.

“Director Calista, I’ve had this scholarship for two years. I’ve maintained a 3.8 GPA while working two jobs. I’ve never caused problems. This was one mistake.”

“A very expensive mistake.”

“I know. And I’m trying to figure out how to pay for it.”

She leaned back in her chair. Studied me over her glasses. “The Valor family has significant influence over this university’s funding. When they’re unhappy, we have to take that seriously.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” She closed the folder. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you put your scholarship at risk for no reason.”

“It was an accident,” I repeated. My voice came out quieter this time.

“Nevertheless, the scholarship committee will be reviewing your status. We’ll decide by the end of the week.”

“End of the week? That’s only four days.”

“That’s correct.”

“What am I supposed to do until then?”

“Continue your classes. Stay out of trouble. And for god’s sake, stay away from the Valor family.”

I nodded. Stood up on shaky legs.

“Ms. Hale.”

I turned back.

“I’ve always liked you,” Director Calista said. Her voice was softer now. “You work hard. You don’t complain. But this is out of my hands. Whatever happens this week, just know I did try.”

The words should have been comforting. Instead, they felt like a goodbye.

I left the office and stood in the hallway. Students rushed past me, heading to their nine-thirty classes. Normal students with normal problems. Not worried about losing everything because of one stupid moment.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

We need to talk. Library. Third floor. Now.

I stared at the message. No name. But I knew who it was from.

I should ignore it. Director Calista had just told me to stay away from the Valor family.

But my feet were already moving toward the library.

The third floor was a quiet study area. Individual desks are spread out between tall bookshelves. Most students avoided it because it was too quiet. Too isolated.

Lycian was sitting at a desk in the far corner. He saw me and stood up.

“You came,” he said.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you text me?”

“Because I have information you need.”

I glanced around. We were alone up here. The only sound was the hum of the heating system.

“What information?”

He pulled out his phone. Showed me an email chain. “Marcus Blackthorn filed three separate complaints about you. So did his daughter. They’re pushing hard to get your scholarship pulled.”

“How do you have access to those emails?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

He put his phone away. “My father sits on the board. I have access to things.”

“So you’re spying on board communications?”

“I’m protecting what’s mine.”

The words hung in the air between us. What’s mine. Like I belonged to him somehow.

“I’m not yours,” I said.

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

His eyes flashed gold again. Just for a second. “We’ll see.”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

“I’m trying to.”

“By stalking me? By reading private emails about me?”

“By helping you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You need it anyway.” He stepped closer. Near enough that I could smell him. Pine and something wild. “Marcus Blackthorn wants you gone. He’s using the gala as an excuse, but this goes deeper.”

“Deeper how?”

“His daughter wants me to mate with her. Having you around complicates that.”

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “Madison sees me as competition? That’s insane. I’m nobody.”

“You’re nobody.”

“To people like her, I am.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Look at me, Lycian. Really look at me.” I gestured at myself. My worn jeans. My library polo shirt was starting to fade. My backpack held together with duct tape. “I work two jobs to afford ramen noodles. I’m wearing my roommate’s coat because mine has holes in it. I’m not in your world. I’m not even close.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“You should. Because everyone else does.”

He reached out. Touched my cheek. His hand was warm against my cold skin.

That electric feeling sparked again. Racing down my spine.

I jerked away. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Looking at me like that. Whatever this is.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my mate.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I actually stepped backward.

“That’s impossible.”

“I know. But it’s true.”

“Mates are wolves. I’m not a wolf.”

“I know that too.”

“Then how?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated. “None of this makes sense. But the bond is there. I felt it the moment you touched me. And so did you.”

I wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was crazy.

But I’d felt it too. That pull. That electricity didn’t make sense.

“This can’t happen,” I said.

“It already has.”

“Then we ignore it.”

“Can you?” He stepped closer again. “Can you honestly tell me you haven’t thought about Saturday night? About the way it felt when we touched?”

I had. I’d thought about it constantly. Even when I was trying not to.

“It doesn’t matter what I felt. This is impossible. You’re the future Alpha of the most powerful pack in the country. I’m a wolfless scholarship student who can’t even afford to replace your suit. This isn’t a fairy tale. This is real life. And in real life, people like you don’t end up with people like me.”

“What if I want to?”

“Then you’re not as smart as everyone says you are.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide this for both of us.”

“Watch me.” I turned to leave.

He caught my wrist. Gently. But firm enough to stop me.

That spark again. Stronger this time. Almost painful.

“Let me help you,” he said. “With the scholarship. With Marcus. With all of it.”

“And what do you want in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Everyone wants something.”

“Fine. I want you to give this a chance. Give us a chance.”

“There is no us.”

“There could be.”

I pulled my wrist free. “I have to go. I have class.”

This time he didn’t stop me.

But as I walked away, I felt his eyes on my back. Burning into me.

I made it halfway down the stairs before my phone buzzed again.

Another blocked call.

I answered it this time. I didn't know why. Maybe because things couldn’t get worse.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Hale. Marcus Blackthorn. We need to meet.”

My blood went cold. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I disagree. My office. Four o’clock today. Don’t be late.”

“I have to work at four.”

“Then you’ll need to leave work early.”

“Mr. Blackthorn, I don’t think…”

“This isn’t a request.” His voice went hard. “Four o’clock. Or I make one phone call and your scholarship is gone by tonight.”

The line went dead.

I stood on the stairs, staring at my phone.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Marcus Blackthorn didn’t want to meet with me to chat. He wanted something. And whatever it was, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.