Chapter 5: Locker Room

Wendy’s POV

The locker room door slams shut behind me with a loud clang, a metallic echo rippling through the empty space. 

It sounds like a warning—or maybe a taunt.

I scan the room quickly. The air reeks of that classic “boy smell”—stale sweat mixed with the damp stink of used socks. A few random pairs of underwear lie abandoned in the corners like little cotton corpses. I wrinkle my nose in distaste and do my best to ignore the obvious grossness of it all.

Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I make a run for the nearest locker and slip inside, pulling the door shut behind me.

I’ve just managed to lock it from the inside when—

Creak!

The outer door swings open again.

Damn it. “I don’t know,” one girl says, her voice tinged with hesitation. “Isn’t this the boys’ locker room?” 

“I know,” the other replies. “But what if she’s hiding in here?”

I can practically see them scanning the room, brows furrowed, eyes suspicious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the first girl scoffs. “No normal girl would hide in this place. You think she’d come in here?”

“Don’t underestimate her. She got the Queen’s Witch Card. She might run now, but she can’t hide forever.”

I hold my breath in the cramped locker, heart pounding so loud it feels like it's echoing off the metal walls. They’re right outside. I can almost smell the bloodhound energy on them.

The Queen? The one who sent that cursed card? My thoughts are racing, searching for answers I don’t have.

Eventually, the door slams shut again. Their footsteps fade. Silence returns.

But I don’t move. I don’t breathe—not properly. I inhale through my nose in short, quiet bursts, keeping still. I think they're gone. But I’m not betting on “probably.” Not after everything that’s happened. 

So I stay curled up inside, limbs cramping, neck aching. I let out a small sigh—just in my head.

I thought I’d own this school. I mean, come on—I’m the Alpha’s daughter. Top fighter, top grades, queen of charm. Back home, I was the life of the party and the leader of the pack. And now? Now I’m the joke. The target. A few hours in, and I’ve already been soaked, humiliated, and hunted.

I’m not going down like this.

But just as I start considering a quiet escape, I hear the door creak open again.

Shit. 

It’s different this time, though. Not light footsteps. No brash voices. Instead, a thud. Something slams against a locker nearby, hard–as if they’ve been pushed or pinned. My nerves go haywire.

Then—skin brushing metal. Two people breathing hard.

I blink, pressing my ear to the locker door, listening closely.

That’s when I hear it.

Wet, soft—kissing?

…Wait. What?!

They’re… making out?

A ridiculous thought flashes through my head: Did I just walk into some secret hookup?

Seriously? This is some full-blown drama club-level chaos. My face flushes deep red. I swear I’m not trying to be a creep—I was just hiding!

Okay, I need to get out of here, fast. Before things… escalate.

But how? The locker is too tight—any movement makes a creaking sound. I’m basically a ticking time bomb of embarrassment. Besides, I don’t want to add crawled out of a locker and interrupted someone else’s hookup to my repertoire of first-day embarrassments. 

Outside, though, things are definitely escalating.

Their breathing picks up, their bodies press harder against the lockers. There’s a low, masculine moan—barely suppressed, enough to make the tips of my ears turn red.

Then—the sound of a belt unbuckling.

I bite down on my lip so hard I might draw blood. My brain short-circuits.

Oh. My. Moon goddess. They’re seriously about to—

And then my arm twitches.

CLANG.

My elbow hits the locker door.

Everything goes dead silent.

No breathing. No kissing. 

Just pure, terrifying stillness.

I hold my breath. My mind is screaming one word on repeat: I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m SO dead.

Then—

BANG!

The locker door flies open.

I squeeze my eyes shut on instinct—

And hear a cold, unmistakable voice.

“You again?”

It’s Damien Kent.

I open my eyes.

He’s standing over me, shirtless and sweaty, hair a little messy, that look of desire still not quite faded from his face—but his brows are furrowed tight. His bare chest and abs are right in front of me, all lean muscle and definition. My gaze drops before I can stop it.

His belt is still undone. His pants are riding low—way too low. One more inch and I’ll see something that can’t be unseen. Something I might… 

My throat goes dry. I force my eyes upward to meet his. 

And instantly regret it.

Those eyes are dark. Burning. Like if he says the word, the air between us will catch fire.

I have no idea if I should apologize, scream, or bolt.

He leans in slowly, his voice dropping to a low murmur near my ear.

“…Did you do this on purpose?”