I already hate this place. It's been a week, and everyone here is bitchy. Wolves are assholes by nature—we all know that. But humans? How can someone be both weak and bitchy at the same time?
I try to avoid both, especially the wolves, but I can still feel their stares. Like they're trying to figure me out. Is she a human? Is she a wolf?
Nope. I'm a failure to society.
No one talks to me, which is perfect. I don't need friends. What I need is for the teachers to stop handing out piles of homework like they're trying to break us. Every fucking day, it's something new. Don't they know I have a job? That I barely get any sleep?
I need to eat more. I'm losing too much weight, and lifting heavy shit is getting harder. My limbs feel sluggish, my muscles aching more than usual. But food costs money, and I'm already struggling to keep up. I feel weird today—maybe it's just exhaustion. Or maybe it's hunger. Or maybe it's just the weight of existing.
I miss when my biggest problem was being bullied—when I had the luxury of time to cry. Now, I have to schedule my breakdowns. Once a month, at least. I need to let it out somehow, or I'll shatter.
Crying used to be free. Now, even breathing costs money. I'm so fucking tired.
But what's the point of complaining?
"Hey. Are you Seren?"
I look up. A tall, skinny boy with freckles, braces, and glasses. He smells human. Great. Just what I need.
I nod, already irritated. My jaw tenses. "What?"
"I was sent by the principal. Follow me."
Again? Why am I being called again?
"By the way, my name's Oliver," he adds, like I care.
I exhale sharply through my nose. "Uh-huh."
"You're a scholarship student, right?"
My fingers curl slightly at my sides. "Yup."
"You must be really smart."
Oh great, a chatterbox. No one likes a chatterbox.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Sure."
"I wish I was smart."
I clench my teeth. "Nice." Are we there yet?
"Am I talking too much?"
So he knows and still chooses to annoy me. I rub my temple. "Yup."
"Sorry, I do that a lot."
I don't respond. Thankfully, we stop in front of the office.
"We're here. Well… I'll see you around." He gives an awkward smile before knocking.
John's voice comes from inside. "Good job, Oliver. You can leave now."
Oliver waves at me before disappearing down the hall. I step inside, already forcing a fake smile. My face feels stiff from disuse. "Hello, John."
The second I enter, I feel it. There are others here. Wolves. Their scent is thick in the air, power rolling off them in waves. A shiver snakes down my spine before I can stop it. My shoulders tense, breath hitching. I unconsciously take a step back before I realize and regain composure. I square my stance, forcing my body to stay still.
One scent stands out—rich, intoxicating, overwhelming. It slams into me, stirring something deep in my chest. Heat flares under my skin, my pulse kicking up. My breath catches, but I shove the feeling down. I tighten my grip on my bag, nails pressing into my palm. No. No.
John speaks, oblivious to the tension crawling under my skin. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
"Remember the other transfer students I told you about? I thought it'd be good for you all to tour the school together."
I don't want to be here. I don't want to tour the school with them. But I nod anyway, keeping my expression neutral.
"I'll call Finna, the girl who showed you around last time," John continues. "You four wait outside and introduce yourselves."
I don't wait for them. My legs move stiffly, too tense, too fast. I step out first, ignoring the presence of the three wolves behind me. I refuse to look at them, to acknowledge them.
"I'm Theo," one of them says.
"Justin," the other chimes in.
"Rowan."
His voice is deep, steady—but there's something behind it, something that makes my stomach clench. I refuse to react, keeping my face blank.
A muscle in my jaw twitches. No. No, I refuse.
Anger bubbles beneath my skin, cold and tight. My stomach churns, my jaw clamping shut. This was bullshit. I wasn't some lovesick idiot, how was this even possible? No wolf, no pack, no family, but a mate?
I sure as hell wasn't about to get caught up in whatever game fate was trying to play.
My nails dig into my palm. I force myself to breathe, to speak. My voice is too steady. Too forced. "Seren."
One word. One tiny, insignificant word, and it felt like the world had just set itself on fire.
---
The second the door opened, her scent crashed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. My entire body went rigid, muscles locking so hard it hurt. It was faint, weaker than a normal wolf's, but it was hers. My mate's. Mine.
Shock slammed into me like a freight train. My mate. Here. Now.
A sharp pang shot through my chest, like something inside me had just snapped into place. My pulse thundered in my ears. My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. Every instinct, every fiber of my being screamed at me to move, to close the space, to touch her—to protect her.
But something else struck me just as hard.
She was too thin. Too pale. There was exhaustion in her bones, in the stiffness of her stance, in the way her clothes hung off her frame. My stomach twisted, a sharp stab of worry slicing through the haze of possessiveness.
She's not okay.
Why isn't she eating? Why does she look like she's barely standing?
My jaw tightened, my heart hammering. I barely registered my own name leaving my lips, the way she flinched ever so slightly.
She didn't look at me.
She barely reacted.
Not to me. Not to the bond.
My chest ached, but not with hurt—frustration. Concern. She wasn't okay. She needed food, rest. Care.
Then—
"Seren."
Her voice hit me like a punch to the gut. Small. Simple. But it changed everything.
I took a step forward before I could stop myself. My wolf snarled inside me, raging at the sight of her so worn down. But I forced myself to hold back. She didn't need me overwhelming her. Not now.
She turned away first, and the loss was instant, sharp. But I wouldn't let her slip away. Not when I could see the exhaustion dragging at her limbs, the way her fingers trembled slightly.
She wasn't getting away from me.
Not when she clearly needed someone to watch over her.