CHAPTER 42: _ FATE IS IRONIC

Heidi has no idea why her chest feels tight as she heads down the narrow school path toward the west corridor. The day isn’t particularly strange as Duskwind smells like it always does.

But her steps feel... itchy. Like the air is pushing against her skin.

She rubs her arms, frowning. The corridors are quieter than usual. The murmur of students is replaced by the faraway echo of slamming lockers.

Restless. That’s the word.

She doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because Junie planted too many thoughts in her head. Steal Sierra’s phone...? Yeah, because that wouldn’t blow up in her face faster than a firecracker in a microwave.

But as she walks, an itch starts to crawl under her skin. It’s like the faint tug of a gnat buzzing just out of reach. She frowns. It’s not the cold; the Duskwind wind always carries a nip. No, this is different. It’s like her instincts... those supposedly useless omega instincts are whispering, something’s off.

Could it be the Alphas? Sierra’s weird porn accusation? The traffickers she overheard yesterday? Maybe it’s just paranoia. But her instincts keep whispering; move faster.

She does. Her boots scuff against the tiled floor, and she passes the library’s shadowed glass doors when...

"Hey."

It’s not a friendly "hey."

It’s the kind that hooks under your ribs and pulls. Four boys stand in the mouth of the hall ahead, casually blocking her path like they’ve been waiting. They’re older and definitely seniors. Duskwind’s hierarchy radiates from them: the way they stand like the school belongs to them, the faint smirks curling their mouths.

And she recognizes two of them. Oh, gosh... Yesterday’s whisperers.

Her stomach drops. Crap.

One advances, shooting a death stare. "You’re gonna follow us. Quietly. Unless you like the idea of not breathing by the end of the day."

W-what? Heidi tries to gulp but her mouth is already dry. "I..."

"Shhh." His finger presses to his lips, then he points to her pocket. "Don’t even think about it."

She thinks about it anyway. Darien’s number. She just needs the perfect opening to dial it. Werewolves’ instincts are super sharp because how on earth did he catch that subtle motion so fast?

Heidi thinks about how she can’t wait for tomorrow when her own abilities will awaken. Perhaps, she wouldn’t be so pathetic then. Her hand stays casual at her side, but her fingers twitch, brushing her blazer pocket, counting the steps it’ll take.

They herd her and they aren’t doing it like the criminals they are, not like they are in the middle of a kidnapping but like students who know no one would stop to check twice should an omega be involved in the case.

They make a detour and lead her to the south wing looms where the halls thin out until even the school’s usual hum disappears. The smell of bleach and dust grows stronger, and the light turns duller and grayer.

Beyond the last exit door, they lead her outside, past the chain-link fence, and into a thin strip of forest that marks the property boundary. It’s way too secluded.

The tall and blond leader turns to her first. "You little Omegas don’t know when to keep your noses out of people’s business, do you?"

She says nothing.

"You overhear something, you forget it. You don’t go poking around."

"I didn’t..."

The first punch cuts her off.

It’s sudden, a knuckle-cracking blow to her cheekbone that snaps her head sideways. Pain bursts white-hot and sharp, flooding her vision with sparks. She stumbles, catching herself before she falls, but another hits her in the gut. The air leaves her lungs in a soundless gasp.

The next few seconds blur. She feels the fists, boots, and sharp jolts of agony blooming across her ribs, back, and legs. Her skin screams under every impact that lands on her.

Her thoughts scatter; don’t go down, don’t go down... but her body’s losing.

One grabs her by the hair, yanking her upright so hard her scalp burns. "How can you, an Omega think you can watch us, talk about us? You’re nothing. You hear me?"

She can barely hear through the ringing in her ears.

Now. Now or never.

While his hand tangles in her hair, she slips her other hand into her pocket. Her thumb finds the phone, unlocks it without looking. She taps Darien’s contact and lets it ring barely a few seconds before the screen flashes "Call Connected."

She lets it drop into her blazer lining, hoping it doesn’t clatter against the ground. That’s when another blow lands, this one to her ribs. It’s hard enough she swears something shifts inside her. The taste of copper fills her mouth.

Her knees give out.

She barely feels the last kick except for the cold earth against her cheek, the forest smell of rotting leaves and damp bark. Her thoughts dissolve into static, and the darkness swallows her whole.

.

.

It can’t have been more than a few minutes when her body shifts... no, someone’s lifting her. She’s weightless, her head lolling against a warm, solid chest.

The scent hits her nose first. It’s clean, wild, and threaded with something electric. She tries to open her eyes but her heavy lids part just enough for blurred light and shape to filter in.

A face.

A ridiculously beautiful face, sharp-edged and unreal, like someone made it from moonlight and arrogance. His eyes, she can’t make out the color, but they’re fixated on her with an intensity that lacerates through the haze.

Her brain manages one coherent thought; angel before the darkness claims her again.

An angel has saved her.

.

.

It hurts her later when she finds out her angel is a devil. She wasn’t saved by an angel, but by the devil himself. The devil she summoned – Darien fucking Bellamy.

Who would have thought that hell of a shitty long day that was filled with lots of humiliation, pain, and suffering for her could end with four sickening electrical rounds of sex with Darien?

Lying on his rigid chest with her head grazing the scanty hair across it with relentless beads of sweat dripping from her drained body to his right now, Heidi’s thinking: fate is an ironic bitch.