ISLA POV
I ran until my lungs burned and my legs screamed for mercy.
Maya's voice called behind me, but I couldn't stop. Couldn't face her. Couldn't explain what had just happened because I barely understood it myself.
Damien Blackwood was my mate.
The player. The spoiled rich boy. The future Alpha who went through girls like candy.
The universe had to be playing a cruel joke.
I finally stopped behind Maya's car, gasping for air. My whole body shook—from the fire, from fear, from the mate bond thrumming through my veins like electricity.
"Isla!" Maya caught up, grabbing my shoulders. "What happened back there? Why did you run?"
"I need to go home." My voice cracked. "Please. I just need to go home."
"You're white as a ghost. Did something happen with Damien? He looked really worried about you—"
"Don't!" The word came out harsher than I meant. "Don't say his name. Just... please drive me home."
Maya studied my face, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But you're telling me everything once we get there."
The drive felt endless. My wolf paced restlessly, whining and confused. She wanted to go back. Wanted to find him. Wanted to accept what we both knew was true.
But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
I'd watched too many girls cry over Damien Blackwood. Seen too many broken hearts. Read too many social media posts about his conquests.
Being his fated mate just meant I'd hurt more when he inevitably got bored and moved on.
We pulled up to our apartment building. I practically ran inside, needing to be alone, to think, to figure out what to do.
"Isla, wait—" Maya started.
"I'm fine!" I lied. "I just need sleep. Big day tomorrow with the review."
The scholarship review. I'd almost forgotten. In less than twelve hours, I had to defend my right to stay at the academy.
And now someone had tried to burn down a building to get rid of me.
I locked myself in my room and collapsed on the bed. My phone buzzed continuously—messages I was too afraid to read. More threats? More warnings?
Or was it him?
No. I couldn't think about Damien. Couldn't let myself hope that maybe, possibly, he might actually—
Stop it. He was a player. This changed nothing.
I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it until my throat hurt.
My mom's picture sat on my nightstand. Smiling. Happy. Taken before the pack cast her out for refusing an arranged mate. Before poverty and exhaustion killed her.
"I miss you," I whispered to the photo. "You'd know what to do. You always knew."
But my mom wasn't here. I was alone, with a mate I couldn't accept and enemies who wanted me gone.
I must have fallen asleep eventually because banging on my door jolted me awake.
"Isla! Get out here!" Maya's voice was panicked. "Now!"
I stumbled out of bed, still half-asleep. "What? What's wrong?"
Maya stood in the living room, her face pale, laptop open in front of her.
"You need to see this," she said quietly.
My stomach dropped. "See what?"
She turned the laptop toward me. A video was playing—the party, people laughing, Celeste standing near the fountain with her friends.
And then I walked into frame.
"Oh no," I whispered.
In the video, Celeste turned toward me with a champagne bottle. But the angle made it look like I'd bumped into her. Like it was my fault when the expensive champagne splashed everywhere.
"Oh my God, is that the same shirt from last week?" Celeste's voice rang out clear. "Someone start a GoFundMe for the poor omega. She clearly needs it."
Her friends laughed on camera. Other students stopped to watch and record.
Then came my response: "At least I earned my spot here instead of buying it with daddy's money."
The video froze on my angry face, then text appeared over it:
"SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT ATTACKS CELESTE HARTLEY AT GRADUATION PARTY"
Below it, hundreds of comments:
"Charity case showing her true colors"
"She doesn't belong at our academy"
"Someone needs to put this omega in her place"
"Hope they revoke her scholarship"
"Maya, this isn't what happened—" I started.
"I know! But they edited it to make you look like the villain!" Maya's hands shook. "Isla, this has three million views. It's everywhere. And look at who posted it."
She clicked on the account name.
SilvercrestTruth
An anonymous account dedicated to "exposing" students. Thousands of followers. Verified status.
"This went up two hours ago," Maya said. "Right after the fire. Someone filmed this, edited it, and posted it while we were literally running for our lives."
My blood turned to ice. "Who would—"
My phone rang. Unknown number.
With shaking hands, I answered. "Hello?"
Heavy breathing, then a disguised voice: "You should have left when we warned you. Now everyone knows what you really are—trash pretending to be worthy. Tomorrow's review will destroy you. And if somehow you survive that, well..." The voice turned darker. "Accidents happen to omega girls who don't know their place."
Click.
I dropped the phone like it burned me.
"Isla?" Maya's voice sounded far away. "What did they say?"
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in.
Someone had planned everything. The harassment. The video. The fire. All of it coordinated to destroy me right before graduation.
But why? What had I done except try to survive?
"I need air," I gasped. "I need to get out of here."
"Isla, it's three in the morning! You can't—"
But I was already grabbing my jacket and running out the door. I needed to shift. Needed to run. Needed to let my wolf out before I exploded.
The streets were empty. I ran toward the nearest park, the one with woods thick enough to hide in. My wolf pushed forward, desperate for freedom.
I reached the trees and started stripping off my clothes. The shift was coming whether I was ready or not. My bones began to crack and reform.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I spun around, half-shifted, vulnerable.
Three figures emerged from the shadows. All wearing masks. All much bigger than me.
"Found you," one said, voice distorted. "Time to teach you a lesson about knowing your place, omega."
Terror flooded through me. I tried to complete the shift, but one of them threw something—a net that wrapped around me, silver threads burning my skin.
Silver. They'd brought silver.
I screamed, but they were on me too fast. Hands grabbed me, yanked me to the ground. Pain exploded across my face as someone hit me.
"This is what happens when charity cases think they're special," another voice hissed. "Damien Blackwood will never want you. You're nothing."
They knew. Somehow they knew about the mate bond.
Another blow. I tasted blood.
Through the pain and fear, my wolf howled for help. Called for the one person who could save us.
Called for our mate.
Then a roar split the night—primal and terrifying and furious.
A massive black wolf exploded from the trees, all teeth and fury. My attackers scattered, but the black wolf was faster. It grabbed one by the throat and threw him like a ragdoll.
The other two ran, leaving their friend bleeding on the ground.
The black wolf turned to me, and I knew those ice-blue eyes even in wolf form.
Damien.
He'd come for me.
Before I could react, he shifted back to human form and ripped the silver net away. His hands were gentle despite the rage burning in his eyes.
"Isla," he breathed. "God, Isla, are you okay?"
I tried to answer, but my vision was blurring. The silver had burned deep. My wolf whimpered, weak and hurt.
"Stay with me," Damien commanded, scooping me into his arms. "Don't you dare pass out. Isla!"
But darkness was pulling me under. The last thing I heard was Damien's voice, desperate and broken:
"Please don't leave me. I just found you. Please."
Then nothing.
When I woke up, everything hurt.
I was in a bed I didn't recognize, in a room that smelled like pine and winter storms and him.
Damien sat in a chair beside the bed, his head in his hands. He looked exhausted. Destroyed.
"Where am I?" I croaked.
His head snapped up, relief flooding his face. "You're awake. Thank God. You've been out for six hours."
Six hours. The scholarship review. "What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty."
"I have to go!" I tried to sit up, but pain shot through me. "The review is at nine—"
"You're not going anywhere." Damien's voice was firm. "Not until you tell me who attacked you."
"I don't know! They wore masks—"
"But they knew about us." His eyes burned into mine. "They knew about the mate bond. Which means someone close to me told them."
The implications hit me like a truck.
Someone in Damien's inner circle wanted me dead.
And they wouldn't stop until I was gone.
Or until one of us was destroyed.
"Damien," I whispered. "I think someone in your pack is trying to kill me."
His jaw clenched. "I know. And I'm going to find out who."
But before either of us could say more, the bedroom door burst open.
Victor Blackwood stood in the doorway, his face twisted with rage.
"Get away from that omega," he snarled at his son. "Now. Before you destroy everything our family has built."