All Chapters of The Top Boy Is My Mate: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Zara’s POV Principal Kieran’s eyes bore into me like drills, cold and relentless. His office smelled faintly of leather and old paper, but under it was something different—the scent of judgment. It clung to me like smoke. He didn’t give me a moment to breathe. “So,” he said, his voice calm but slicing, “multiple students testified that you and Zarek were the first to leave the party last night. You slipped away together.” I swallowed hard, the back of my throat dry. “That doesn’t mean anything—” “And then,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken, “Kai contacts you last. Not Seraphine. Not Alex. Not Atlas. You.” He leaned forward, knuckles pressing into the polished wood of his desk. “Explain that, Zara. Why were you the last name in his history?” My pulse pounded in my ears. The image of Kai’s body hanging in that cursed tree flashed across my mind, blood dripping into the grass, soaking into my palms when I touched the earth in shock. The memory nearly made me gag. “I didn’t—”

Zarek POV The interrogation room had smelled of stale coffee, it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t fear though—no, it was boredom. The same recycled questions asked in ten different ways. Same little red light blinking on the recorder like it had a personal grudge against me. And the officers? Holy moon, they were predictable. “Where did you go after leaving the party?” “Did Zara tell you she was meeting Kai?” “Why did you leave first? Didn’t you think that suspicious?” Suspicious. That was the word they loved chewing on. I gave them what I always gave—smirks, half-answers, and just enough sass to keep them from thinking I was scared. Because I wasn’t. I don’t scare easy. By the time they released me, dusk had already painted the sky purple. My stomach was gnawing at itself, and I hadn’t had a proper laugh all day. I needed to move, to fight, to burn the itch of all those staring eyes that followed me since Kai’s body turned up. So, I went to combat class. . The training hall was

Zara POV The hum of the car engine faded as Aunty May’s driver pulled up to the dorm entrance. The rain from earlier had left the pavement slick, catching reflections of the streetlights that blurred like watercolor. Aunty May turned toward me with that warm, motherly smile that always made the tension in my chest ease just a little. “Cheer up, Zara,” she said, leaning closer. “If anyone ever tries to confront you about… the incident, you tell me immediately. Don’t try to handle it alone.” I nodded, slipping out of the car, the cool night air washing over me. Her concern was genuine, and I felt the faint warmth of being seen, truly seen, in a world where everyone else wanted to pin a crime on me. “I will,” I murmured. She gave me one last reassuring smile before the driver pulled away. I walked toward the dorm, my bag heavier than usual, weighed down by thoughts of the principal, the videos, the whispers, and the very real possibility that Zarek—or even Aunty May might not be abl

Zara POV The morning sunlight fell through the classroom windows in harsh lines, cutting across the rows of empty desks, highlighting dust motes that danced lazily in the air. I slipped into my usual seat near the middle of the class, close enough to the front to see the teacher clearly, but far enough to keep a low profile. My books were still warm from the backpack, and I sorted them carefully, arranging the pens and papers the way I liked. Routine. Normalcy. A fragile illusion. But my eyes couldn’t help wandering to the empty seat in front of me—Kai’s. The space he once occupied seemed to pulse with absence. A cold prickle ran down my spine, and I felt it again, that strange, gnawing sense that someone in this room knew something… knew exactly what had happened. The history teacher’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. “Alright, settle down, class. Today we’ll cover the rise and fall of the Northern packs…” But I wasn’t hearing the lecture. My mind was wandering, circling

Zara POV Zarek had been talking for exactly five minutes straight, and not one word he’d said carried any weight of importance. “…and then I told the cook if he served me burned eggs one more time, I’d set the entire kitchen on fire. You should’ve seen his face—pure terror. Honestly, Zara, the world is lucky I’m merciful. A lesser dragon would’ve reduced that omelet to ash and—hey, are you even listening to me?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly. “No, Zarek. I stopped listening when you said ‘burned eggs.’ That was four minutes and fifty-seven seconds ago.” He grinned, sharp teeth flashing like he enjoyed every ounce of my irritation. “You wound me. Here I am, pouring out the tragic tale of my culinary suffering, and you mock me. Where’s the compassion? The empathy? The—” “—the ability to shut up?” I cut in, glaring at him. Zarek pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “Savage. Utterly savage. And to think I was about to—” He stopped. Just like that, his mout