Chapter 169

MILLICENT

“Not now,” I whispered under my breath, shifting in my seat.

The itch traveled, blooming across my forearms in a wave that made me grit my teeth. I dug my nails into my palm. My breath caught. Something felt wrong. Worse than wrong. Off. My skin prickled again and I slapped my arm harder this time.

Then I saw it.

Little strands of golden hair pushing through my skin like I was mid-shift but not really shifting. Like my wolf was dragging her claws along the edges, threatening to burst out just to prove a point.

My chest tightened and I lowered my head, my hair falling like a curtain as I whispered, “Kyra, stop. Please. Don’t do this here.”

She answered for the first time in a long time. " You ignored me. You always ignore me." She sounded so vexed it terrified me.

“I’m in class,” I begged silently. “Please just breathe. Just slow down.”

She paced inside me like she wanted to rip through the surface and rearrange the whole room. She wasn’t yelling but she wasn’t calm either. It was worse, quiet anger. It made my stomach twist.

The golden hairs trembled on my forearm like they were waiting for the next command. I tugged my sleeve down and curled my hand into a fist. “Kyra, I’m sorry, okay? I’m trying here. Just calm… calm down, please.”

Something in her softened, even though she didn’t like giving in. The hair slowly faded, sinking back under my skin until only the memory of the itch remained. But the crawling feeling still lingered like little sparks under my flesh, waiting to flare again if I moved wrong.

By the time the class ended, I was clenching my jaw so hard the muscles hurt.

Professor Cassie blocked my way before I could escape. She folded her arms, her brows pulled tight as she looked up at me like I’d just personally offended her ancestors.

“Miss Milicent, I need a word.” Fiona glanced back at me, her expression saying good luck without her lips moving, then slipped out with the others.

I forced a smile. “Yes, Professor?”

“You’ve been dropping,” she said without hesitation. “In performance, in test scores, in focus. You’re drifting. And you cannot afford to drift at this stage. Not in this school. Not with your… status.”

A knife of embarrassment jabbed into my ribs. “I know. I’m trying—”

“Well you’re not trying hard enough. I saw your performance for last semester and that was trying. This... having two mates and being the general's daughter might pass you with other professors but I'm true to my work and my students. Show me you are too.”

The words hit harder because they were true in the worst way. I was trying, just not at things the school cared about. Not at things that came with grades and ranking charts. I was trying to survive. I was trying to understand myself. I was trying not to explode in front of everyone.

“I’ll do better,” I murmured, though it felt like swallowing a stone. Professor Cassie nodded like she didn’t believe me but wanted to pretend she did. “See that you do.”

I rushed out of the classroom before she could say anything else, my stomach knotting tighter with every step.

Fiona was leaning against the lockers like she’d known exactly where I’d end up. When she saw my face, she straightened, crossing her arms loosely.

“That bad?” she asked with a small tilt of her head.

“She basically told me I’m falling apart,” I muttered, leaning beside her. “Which is great, because I totally needed that reminder.”

Fiona hummed, a non-answer, a careful one. “Well… maybe she’s not wrong.” My head snapped toward her. “Wow. Thanks Fiona.”

She lifted her hands, palms up. “I’m just saying. You’ve been different lately. Distracted. Absent. And don’t give me the classic ‘I’m fine’ because you look like someone who hasn’t slept properly in weeks and it's obviously not mental distress”

I frowned. “I have two mates who won't let me sleep. I’m seriously trying here, Fi.”

“I know you are,” she said quickly, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean it like—ugh, never mind. You just have a lot going on. More than most people here, honestly and... I guess maybe try focusing on one thing.”

There was something under that. Something she didn’t say. Something that made my brows pull together slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitated. Just a flicker of hesitation before she plastered on a smile that didn’t match her eyes. “Nothing. Don’t mind me. My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes.”

I watched her, confused, because Fiona rarely spoke in those sideways lines unless she actually meant something. She looked like she wanted to say more but didn’t know how, or didn’t know if she should.

I opened my mouth to push, to ask her what exactly she meant, but someone suddenly called my name. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t anything dramatic. But it froze my entire body on the spot.

“Milicent.”

I turned and my heart just dropped.

My dad stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, wearing the same bored look he always carried around like it was part of his outfit. His eyes swept the hallway, then landed on me like he’d finally found what he was looking for.

Everything inside me shifted, tightened, curled in. Fiona said something—I didn’t hear it. All I heard was the buzzing in my ears and the thud of my heartbeat as the world narrowed to the shape of him standing there.

My dad. At my school.

Why? Why was my dad at school?

Fiona vanished so fast it was almost funny if my stomach wasn’t twisting itself into a knot. One second she was beside me, the next she was gone, like she’d been yanked by an invisible string the moment her eyes landed on General Gregory Sawyer and the escorts flanking him like shadows.

No goodbye, no see you later, just pure fear pushing her feet in the opposite direction. I didn’t blame her. My father had that effect on people and after all that drama last semester, it was better to avoid. Wolves who stood tall around Alphas suddenly remembered how to bow when my father walked past.

He stood there in the hallway with his spine straight, shoulders squared, uniform crisp, boots polished to mirror shine. His escorts didn’t move. Didn’t blink. They looked more like statues than wolves. Everything about the scene felt too big for the hallway, too loud even though none of them spoke.

My throat tightened. “What… what are you doing here, Father?”

His eyes met mine. Cold. Steady. Familiar. But there was something else there too, something so out of place I didn’t recognise it at first. His voice came out deep and controlled. “It’s your birthday.”

My brain hit a wall so hard the impact echoed through my bones. “My… what?”

“I thought I’d check up on you.”

Check up on me. On my birthday. A day I never talked about because there was nothing to celebrate. A day I tried to forget every year because it wasn’t just my birthday; it was the day my mother died. The day I came into this world and she left it. A day I never saw as mine. A day that tasted like guilt and shadows and unanswered questions. Because I killed the woman who gave me life and I'd never understand why.

I stared at him like he’d grown another head. My father didn’t do birthdays. He didn’t even do softness. He did discipline. Orders. Missions. Silence. But there he was, acting like this was normal. Acting like he was a father who showed up for sentimental reasons.

A laugh almost climbed up my throat but died halfway. “You… remembered?” His jaw twitched, not in anger, just in something unreadable. “I always remember.”

That hint of softness flickered again, so quick, so out of place that it made my stomach drop. I pulled myself together and touched my hands in front of me to keep them from shaking.

“I’m… grateful you came,” I said carefully, choosing every word like I was stepping barefoot over broken glass. “But may I ask… what’s your real purpose here?”

His gaze sharpened instantly. Softer moment gone, locked away. The General I knew was back.

He lowered his voice. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your activities in this school.” My heart stopped. Activities. Which ones? How closely had he been watching? My palms grew damp.

He continued, “My people reported you were wearing that cursed bracelet.” Everything inside me froze.

He knew about the bracelet? My throat went dry as sand. I swallowed hard and forced my expression to stay neutral.

“What bracelet?” I lifted my hands slightly, palms facing him. “I’m not wearing anything.”

His eyes scanned my wrists like he could see through my skin. The air around us felt charged, like a storm was gathering behind his eyes.

Finally he spoke, low and firm. “Never wear any enchantment that separates you from your wolf. Do you understand?” Kyra stirred at the back of my mind, her growl soft and approving at his words for the first time ever. I nodded quickly. “Yes, Father.”

He stared at me a moment longer, making sure the message sank through bone and marrow. Then he straightened. “Good. I can take my leave now.”

Relief began to loosen my shoulders, until he added, “After I’ve spoken with the Alpha of pack.”

My heart thudded again. My dad was gonna have a talk with my mates dad? The lat time they spoke they both had no idea their spawns were mates but now... Would it be awkward? “The Alpha? Why?”

He didn’t blink. “The superior Alpha king has sent word for him.”

That sentence alone felt like someone had punched the air out of my lungs. Nothing ever involved the superior Alpha king unless something serious was happening.

I tried to keep my voice level. “Is… is there anything to worry about?”

His posture shifted again; strict, commanding, all General, no father. “I will send word if I need you for information.”

Information. About what? About who?

I held the question in my mouth but didn’t dare let it rise.

“In the meantime,” he added, voice firm as steel, “do not make stupid decisions if you still want to remain in this school.”

Something in his tone sliced straight through me. I felt like a soldier again. Small. Fourteen. Standing straight because slouching meant consequences.

“Understood, Father.”

He nodded. Then turned to the escort on his right. The man stepped forward, holding a rectangular box wrapped in dark fabric, bowing his head slightly as he offered it.

My father took it for a second, then extended it toward me. His hands didn’t shake. Mine almost did.

“Since you’ve chosen independence,” he said, voice dropping just a little, “I trust my teachings to stay with you.”

I blinked hard. Independence. As if I chose it. As if it hadn’t been the only option to survive. He held the box out further. “Consider this a birthday gift.”

My first birthday gift. From General Gregory Sawyer. The world must’ve shifted off its axis.

“Happy birthday, Milicent.”

My chest tightened painfully. I reached out and took the box with both hands. It felt heavier than it looked, weighty like it carried something more than whatever was inside.

“Thank you, Father,” I whispered.

He gave one last nod, then turned and walked down the hallway with his escorts falling into formation behind him. Not a glance back. Not a pause.

I watched him until he disappeared around the corner, the box clutched to my chest, my heartbeat thudding loud enough to drown out everything else.

And suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted to open it or drop it and run.