Chapter 4: The Witch Card

Wendy’s POV

A cold gust of air rushes through  my soaked clothes, and I shiver hard, like I’ve just been shoved into a walk-in freezer.

Some messed-up part of me wants to laugh—because honestly, this whole thing is just insane. I still can’t quite believe everything that’s happened to me since setting foot in this school. But stronger than my frustration  is the stubborn fire burning in my chest. 

I need to get to the bottom of this. 

I don’t know who’s behind all this, or what else they’ve got planned, but one thing’s for sure: I’m not going down easy. And I’m definitely not scared.

But seriously—what the hell is going on?

I’m the Alpha’s daughter. I don’t slack off in training, my grades are top-tier, and socially? People usually like me. Back at my old school, I was the fun one. The leader. The girl everyone followed. And now? I switch schools and instantly go from “rising star” to “public enemy number one?” That’s… a wild plot twist.

What exactly did I do to deserve this kind of welcome party?

Water keeps dripping—spilling onto the floor, seeping into my shoes, and pooling deep into the mess of emotions bubbling inside me. The laughter in the locker room is still going strong. No one makes any attempt to hide it–it’s just loud, raw mockery, like handfuls of sand being rubbed into an already scraped-up face.

I clench my jaw and stand up straighter.

“It’s just a bucket of water!” I shout at them. “If you’re gonna pull a prank, at least be creative about it!”

Maybe this is all about that stupid Witch Card. It has to be, right? I still have no clue what it actually means, but judging by everyone’s reaction... it’s probably not some honor roll thing.

Honestly, I just want to grab a random student, shake them by the shoulders, and scream, can someone please explain this freak show?!

My emotions are all over the place, and I know I need to cool off. Not running away—just a strategic retreat. P.E? Yeah, no thanks. Not giving them the satisfaction of an encore. I grab the edge of my wet shirt and storm out of the locker room, heading straight into the hallway and taking a deep, shaky breath.

Okay. Priority one: find a towel. Or at least some dry clothes.

I spot two girls walking toward me from the other end of the hall. I force myself to swallow the anger and  muster up a semi-normal smile.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound chill, “Do you guys know where I can find a towel?  Or, like, a spare set of clothes?”

Before I can even get the words out, both girls take a step back. It’s an immediate, fearful reaction, as though I’ve pulled a knife on them. Their eyes go wide, full of disgust and…

Fear?

Why do they seem… afraid of me?

My stomach drops.

Oh, now we’re getting somewhere.

“Yeah, go ahead, take the pic,” I say with a smile as sharp and fake as a plastic knife. “Gotta keep your little group chat updated, right?”

Their eyes widen even more, like I just shifted on the spot. 

And then, without even a moment’s hesitation, they turn and bolt.

I blink. Wow. Fastest hundred-meter sprint I’ve seen all day.

It’s a relief that at least there’s no one harassing me anymore, but I can’t just stand here dripping like a cursed wet mop. The longer I stay out in the open, the longer I’m a target.

I speedwalk through the hallway, eyes scanning for somewhere to hide and regroup. Maybe dry off. Maybe scream into a towel.

But before I can even calm my thoughts, it hits me—

That feeling.

The strange sense of wrong that’s been haunting me all day. 

Like icy fingertips brushing the back of my neck.

I shift my eyes subtly to the side, and–

Yep. Two girls. Following me.

But this time, they’re not laughing. They’re not running away.

No. This time, they’re stalking me.

My heart kicks into high gear. Maybe… maybe  it’s a coincidence? Maybe we’re just headed the same way.  Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

I pick up the pace. So do they.

I turn right. Then right again. Then left. Through two different hallways, now three, now four–they’re still behind me.

Nope. Not paranoia. 

I start walking in weird, erratic patterns—speeding up, slowing down, random pauses. Like a test. A trial. Please, please don’t be following me–

They match me, step for step.

Ice-cold dread floods my body. My fingers go numb. I can practically feel their eyes boring into my back.

This isn’t a joke anymore. This is intentional.

I don’t think. I run.

My shoes slap against the floor as I bolt. And then—

My blood runs cold. 

I hear them running too.

They’re chasing me.

I don’t dare look back. My feet slap against the fake-marble floor. I just keep sprinting and trying to think: Where do I hide? 

Not the girls' locker room—been there, soaked that. Bathroom? Too obvious. A teacher’s office? Ha. Yeah right. Like any of them would lift a finger to help me.

Then I see it.

The boys' locker room.

I hesitate. My brain screeches to a halt: am I seriously considering this?

I glance over my shoulder, and—yep, they’re still back there, just one turn away.

I don’t have any time left to waste. 

“Guess we’re calling this ‘Adventure Day,’” I mutter.

I dart to the door, crack it open, and peek inside—it’s empty. 

For now, at least.

Sorry, boys.

I slip in, close the door quietly behind me, and lean against it, chest heaving.

My soaked clothes cling to my skin. My heart is pounding. But for the first time all day, I feel the tiniest, tiniest spark of satisfaction.

I let a slow grin creep onto my face.

“Come on, then,” I whisper. “Let’s see how you plan to find me now.”