Chapter 3: Eyes in the Crowd

“Congratulations, Miss Hale.”

Principal Dorsey’s voice was warm but formal, like he’d practiced being proud in the mirror. He handed me my diploma folder and gave my shoulder a quick pat that was supposed to be fatherly but felt more like a tap on a keyboard.

“You’ve made this school very proud,” he said. “Your grades are outstanding, and your speec - well, you made half the staff cry.”

“I’ll consider that a victory,” I said, shaking his hand. “Thank you, sir. And thank you for not mentioning the coffee incident from last semester.”

His mustache twitched. “The one involving the dean’s laptop or the janitor’s cart?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, smiling despite himself, and waved me on.

I walked down the stage steps, trying not to trip on the hem of my gown. Cassie was waiting with the kind of grin you could see from space.

“You nailed it!” she hissed as I sat beside her. “You made Dorsey emotional! The man who once called our entire year a ‘disciplinary disaster!’”

“I have many talents,” I whispered back. “Making adults cry and spilling drinks in creative new ways are just the top two.”

Cassie laughed too loudly, and a professor glared at us. We both ducked like guilty kids, snickering.

The ceremony rolled on - names, applause, speeches that could cure insomnia. Parents sniffled. Someone’s baby started screaming two rows behind us, and I sympathized on a spiritual level.

Still, I couldn’t focus. Because the feeling hadn’t gone away. That… weight of being watched.

I risked another glance toward the back. They were still there.

Four men. Still as statues, hands clasped in front of them, eyes fixed in my direction. Suits too sharp, faces too composed. One had sandy-blond hair and eyes like ice. Another, dark-skinned, with a scar running along his jaw that only made him look more dangerous. The third was clean-cut and unreadable, the kind of man who could ruin you with a single sentence. And the fourth - the one with the storm-gray eyes - looked straight at me as if he could see the wolf crouched under my skin.

My stomach flipped.

I turned back to Cassie, forcing a smile. “Do you, uh, see the guys in the back?”

She leaned sideways, peering over the crowd. “What guys?”

“The ones who look like they wandered out of a billionaire magazine ad.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then shrugged. “Probably donors. Or someone’s rich uncles. You know, the kind who think the rest of us smell like poverty.”

“Right. Totally.”

But my wolf wasn’t buying it. She paced restlessly, ears pricked, tail low. I’d never felt her this alert in public before.

“Relax,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just four dudes in overpriced suits. Not a big deal.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Cassie asked.

“Yep. Me and my inner chaos having a heart-to-heart.”

We both laughed, but my hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

Then the announcer called, “And next up - our Student Council President, Cassie Moore!”

Cassie froze like a deer in headlights. “Oh no. I forgot this was happening.”

“You forgot your own award?” I whispered, half laughing, half horrified.

She smacked my arm and hissed, “Don’t you dare make a scene-”

Too late. I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled,

“Go get ‘em, Madam President! Don’t trip in those murder heels!”

The front row laughed, and Cassie shot me a look that promised revenge and probably sabotage of my next latte order. She adjusted her gown, straightened her back like the queen she was, and strutted up the steps to thunderous applause.

I whistled as she shook the principal’s hand, and when she turned back toward the crowd, she flipped me the most discreet middle finger in academic history.

I grinned, mouthing, You love me anyway.

Her eye roll said, Unfortunately, yes.

The next name was called, applause filled the hall again, and I tried to act normal - clapping, smiling, pretending my whole world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

Then came the closing remarks. Principal Dorsey droned something about “bright futures” and “community leaders.” Someone tossed a cap too early, and a nearby professor ducked like he was under attack. Cassie and I snorted into our sleeves.

When the music swelled and everyone began tossing their caps for real, I joined in - mostly so I wouldn’t stand out. But when I looked back again, through the confetti of flying fabric and the blur of movement…

The four men were already gone.

Just gone.

My heart hammered in my chest.

“Clara!” Cassie laughed, throwing her arms around me. “We did it! We’re free!”

“Yeah,” I said weakly, hugging her back. “Free.”

But my wolf didn’t agree. She growled quietly inside me, her voice brushing the edges of my mind like a warning.

"No, we’re not."