“We’re going to need to know all the classes you want to waitlist for next year.”
“Why?” She drew back just enough to look at him in the eye again, but he nudged his head to the side, silently demanding she move closer again.
When she tucked her head back beside his, this time, she felt his fingers on the back of her knee. The touch seemed experimental, just a light brush of his fingertips testing out the surface of her skin. She immediately got goosebumps, the hollow ache inside her growing just that little bit sharper.
“Because we need to make sure there’s at least one of us in each of your classes,” he whispered.
She started to draw back again, to demand why again, but this time both his hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs, jerking her forward until her chest slapped against his, her thighs pressing between his. She could even feel the hard brush of muscle against her stomach through their clothes. His scent was something she could have easily gulped up just for the rush of comfort it gave her, but his touch had the opposite effect, making her so nervous she almost felt sick.
“Because,” he muttered, answering the “why” she hadn’t had a chance to ask, “bad things happen when we leave you alone.”
“Welcome to the world,” she whispered back, feeling Elijah’s silent attention on the side of her face. “Bad things happen. You can’t stop them.”
“Dance with Elijah.”
“No,” she said reflexively.
“Why not?” he sounded amused.
“B-Because.” She drew back again, and this time he let her. She flicked a look to Elijah, but his expression was blank and relaxed—still. It was actually mildly infuriating at this point. She wanted to see him ruffled.
“Because?” Gabriel prompted.
“I don’t know.” She disentangled herself and quickly restarted her playlist, running through her routine a few more times before finally giving up. It was getting worse. She wasn’t as fluid as she had been before the settlement tour, and her stamina wasn’t the same.
After working in the library for the rest of the day with Gabriel and Elijah, she trailed them to the dining hall for dinner, still preoccupied with the task of choosing her classes for the next year. Her father had already emailed her to advise on which classes she should take, and to inform her that they would be deciding her class list on Monday night after he returned to Ironside.
It was an improvement on him deciding everything and her finding out what she was in store for without even a conversation, but she wasn’t sure she liked the fact that there was progress. He was trying to loop her in because he thought she was playing the game and was proud of the cunning he thought he had perceived in her.
But she was only trying to survive, just like she had every day in that penthouse apartment with her mother. The only difference was that her father wasn’t the only monster under her bed anymore.
“That’s our booth.” Elijah pointed to the alcove she usually saw the Alphas in. “Meet us there after you have your food.”
She watched them walk off with a bemused expression. They knew booths weren’t reserved, right? They had to. But still … now that she thought about it, nobody else dared to approach that particular table.
Must be nice to be untouchable.
She grabbed a tray and stopped before the food bar. It was Japanese-themed, with an extensive noodle and ramen section, a colourful sushi section, and a section for meats and tempura, which she passed by without a glance. She picked up a bowl of rice, a smaller bowl of vegetables, and some noodles in a miso broth, the steam curling up from the food making her stomach clench.
She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, so it took her a few moments to realise she was hungry. She also hadn’t had to pause any of her activity to have a sneezing or coughing fit, and her head was clear of the fuzzy, disorientated feeling that had been plaguing her for weeks.
With a frown, she pulled out her phone and quickly navigated to the group chat, not really looking where she was going.
Isobel: What did you guys do to me last night?
“You’re running out of time.”
She pulled up short, her attention snapping up past her tray as someone grabbed the other side of it.
Crowe was glowering down at her, looking like he wanted to flip her tray up into her face. After a moment, he forcibly released it, spilling miso soup across the surface.
“What?” she managed, catching sight of Eve hovering a few tables away, pretending to talk to her friends, her gaze fixed sharply on Isobel and Crowe.
“You’re running out of time.” He enunciated each of the words like she was hard of hearing. “It’s almost summer break.”
Her mind went blank, her lips parting in shock. “It was you.”
He didn’t answer.
“The messages?” she pressed, an unfamiliar spark of fury igniting somewhere inside her. “You took that video.”
He still didn’t answer, but his complete lack of shock or confusion seemed to speak volumes.
“Did you hear me, slut?” He leaned over the tray, smelling like sweat and fear. “You’re out of fucking time. Do you have an answer or not?”
No … he didn’t smell like fear. He felt like fear. It was so strong it reached out to her even though he wasn’t an Alpha and her walls were still solidly raised.
He was swimming in it.
“I do,” she said, simply.
The look of hatred in his eyes burned hotter. “What’s it called, then?”
“The Stone Dahlia.”
“And how do you get in, Sigma?”
“You enter through the old boathouse by the lake.”
“Then why haven’t you?” He turned his head, spitting on the ground. “They’ll be making their offer to you tomorrow morning. It’s just a formality. You can’t actually refuse.”
He stalked off, and she glanced over at Eve, but the other girl was now pretending not to have noticed the interaction at all, laughing easily with her hand on the arm of an Omega girl. Isobel narrowed her eyes, noticing again that Eve seemed to have lost weight, her usual clothes hanging off her frame. The dark circles beneath her eyes unceasing.
Not Isobel’s problem.
She hurried over to the Alpha booth, slipping onto the edge of the bench seat without looking to see who else was there, except Gabriel, who sat opposite her and had been half-raised from his seat like he was about to come after her. He eased back down when she did, and she felt his attention on her. Not just him. She smelled saltwater and sunshine, and heady whiskey nearby. Cian and Niko.
Still, she didn’t tear her attention from Crowe, zeroing in on his table. He sat alone, staring down at an untouched tray, a vacant look on his face. Bellamy sat separately, surrounded by his usual group of loyal supporters. Crowe’s hair had grown longer and now hung shaggy and choppy, the unwashed length dangling over his eyes. He had put on weight, and his skin was sunken and sallow. Whenever someone passed by too close to where he sat, his eyes darted about in a panicked sort of way before resolutely fixing back to his tray.
He looked terrible. Defeated. Afraid. Traumatised.
“It was him?” Elijah’s soft whisper broke into her thoughts. “The behemoth?”