CHAPTER 39: _ REALITY CHECK

~Heidi’s Point Of View~

Heidi lies on her side, the thin sheet twisted somewhere around her calf, staring at the wall like it might give her back the ability to think straight. Her body is still droning... no, shaking with aftershocks, like every nerve of her’s been rewired to remember him. Her thighs ache in a way that makes her blush, and there’s a stubborn little soreness between them that’s as mortifying as it is satisfying.

She can still feel his weight over her, the heat of his skin, the low, and yet, sharp way he’d said her name. The way his mouth had pulled at her breast until she had clutched at his hair like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. She bites the inside of her cheek because she refuses... fuckingrefuses to be that girl who spends the rest of the day with her mind in the sheets.

It’s ridiculous. She swore off men after her first time. That was supposed to be it; her one awkward, catastrophic, and thoroughly disappointing encounter.

She can still remember it, as if it’s imprinted into her like a warning sign: seventeen, naive girl teachers trusted to collect homework and announce schedules. She’d thought she was untouchable, too smart to get tangled up in nonsense. Then the school’s golden boy had looked at her. He was the captain of the football team with the type of smile that made half the girls sigh into their lockers.

She thought it was romance. Turned out it was just biology.

One fumbling night in the back of his car, where she wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen and he didn’t care to explain, and the very next morning he was holding court in the cafeteria, telling everyone the top student was "better in bed than in calculus."

She’d learned two things that day: never trust a charming smile, and never, ever

underestimate how cruel people could be when given the chance.

So she kept her head down and promised herself no more crushes or risks. No more giving anyone that power over her.

Until now.

Because apparently, fate, or whatever power governs the lives of werewolves decided to gift her with four mates. One of which is Darien Bellamy.

Her mind drifts back to earlier today, before her world changed the way it has in his bed.

She can see it: she and Junie leaving Ms. Vesper’s class, the late afternoon sun spilling through the high windows, making the dusty air look like glitter. Junie is bouncing as they pass through the crowded hallway, her dark curls bobbing.

They’re deep in conversation about the Mate bond... again, because Junie is obsessed with the topic. Unlike Heidi, she treats the subject like a celebrity crush, all starry-eyed and hopeful.

"I just think," Junie says, "if my mate is someone high-ranked, maybe I could actually survive in this place without getting my face shoved into a locker every week. Can you imagine? Instant protection, free meals, and no one daring to look at you sideways? I’d kill for that."

Is that what she thinks? Being fated to a high-ranked werewolf would lead her into some gateway to an Utopia in this school? Girl, she has no idea – Heidi scoffs internally.

"Careful. If the Moon Goddess hears you, she might take that literally."

Junie waves her hand. "A girl can dream, Heidi. Don’t kill my fantasy."

Heidi thinks about telling her the irony; that her mate isn’t just one but four high-ranked... as in, the very four highest-ranked wolves in the entire school and that doesn’t make things better for her. It worsened it, apparently. However, she decides against it, mostly because saying it out loud makes it sound like a death sentence, not a romantic fairy tale.

Instead, she says, "Don’t get your hopes up. The reality’s never as pretty as you think."

Junie’s grin continues to stretch. "That’s just because you’re allergic to romance."

They reach the top of the stairs, and Junie suddenly tilts her head. "Hey, why aren’t you wearing that new uniform I gave you?"

"It’s in my bag," Heidi says. "I’ll wear it tomorrow. Today’s almost over, so why bother changing out of this one? Besides, it’s already dirty." She tugs at the stained hem of her blouse for emphasis.

Junie nods in agreement. "Fair enough. Waste of effort at this point."

They’re halfway down the hall when the comments start.

It’s subtle at first. Like a pointed glance from a senior, the way a pair of junior girls whisper behind their hands as Heidi passes. Then the whispers sharpen into words.

"That’s the one tagged by the Alphas."

"Girl, she’s a dead girl walking."

"Better start planning your funeral."

Heidi keeps her eyes forward and jaw tight. Junie huffs beside her. "Don’t listen to them. Seriously. Just... go see the Alphas early, do whatever they want you to do, and maybe they’ll lay off."

Easier said than done.

Heidi arches an eyebrow. "You’re telling me to voluntarily throw myself at the wolves?"

"Better than waiting for them to come after you when they’re in a bad mood," Junie points out. "At least this way you have some control."

Heidi sighs. "You might be right."

The thought of being slaves to the four nightmares sends chills down Heidi’s spine. Her knees have begun to wobble, but she hides it. There’s no use crying over spilled milk. The only solution for her is to try her best to serve them properly and hope they soon get bored with thrashing her.

At least, she might get today off, all thanks to Darien, that jerk. Hopefully, she is able to point out the traffickers and he’ll let her go.

They reach the end of the hallway, where the way to the study splits from the cafeteria where Junie’s heading. Heidi’s about to say goodbye when movement catches her eye.

Three figures step out from the side corridor, cutting her off. Oh, God. Not them again.

By them, it’s Sierra and her entourage.

Sierra’s the kind of girl who makes an entrance like she’s on a runway with her long legs, flawless hair, and a smile so sweet it could rot your teeth. Except the smile’s never for you. It’s for the audience watching her destroy you.

Heidi knows this particular one has one target and she’s a butterscotch-haired omega. Right on time...

"Heidi, we were just talking about you. Remember that favor you owe me?" Sierra stops in front of her, juts her hip out, and places a hand on it.

Oh, sweet Jesus... this is not going to be good, Heidi can swear she already feels the trouble brewing.