Chapter 24 Twenty four
Her mind scrambled, piecing together everything she’d ever overheard in hushed conversations, in warnings whispered by elders and teachers who thought students weren’t listening. Hybrids were rare. Dangerous. Unstable, according to wolf law. Born of crossed bloodlines—magic and wolf, sometimes worse.
Unwanted by everyone.
“You’re lying,” someone whispered, but there was no conviction in it now.
The girl laughed bitterly. “Do I look like I care enough to lie to people who already decided to hate me?”
She turned slowly in a circle, arms slightly out, daring them to look. “Too wild for witches. Too tainted for wolves. Too useful to be killed outright.” Her lips curled. “So don’t flatter yourselves—you didn’t ‘catch’ anything. I’ve been surviving you.”
The emerald-gold glow in her eyes pulsed brighter for a moment before dimming again, as if she were forcing it down with sheer will.
Harper couldn’t stop staring.
Everything made sense now—the way the girl had stood her ground, the way the air had reacted to her emotions, the way wolves instinctively recoiled without knowing why.
“You’re dangerous,” the blonde girl said weakly, but she’d stepped back nearly a full meter now.
“So are you,” the hybrid snapped. “You just have permission.”
That landed.
Murmurs rippled through the classroom—uneasy, conflicted. Some wolves looked away. Others clenched their fists, torn between fear and pack instinct.
“And her?” someone asked sharply, pointing at Harper again. “What about her?”
All eyes swung back to Harper.
Her throat tightened.
She hadn’t asked for this. Any of it.
“I didn’t know,” Harper said honestly, her voice softer now. “About her. About… any of this.”
The hybrid studied her, head tilting slightly. “You’re telling the truth,” she said after a beat.
Harper blinked. “You can tell?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Can you?”
Harper hesitated—and that hesitation was answer enough.
A low murmur swept the room again.
“She didn’t deny it.”
“That’s confirmation.”
The tension spiked sharply—like a wire pulled too tight.
Suddenly, the classroom door burst open.
A teacher stormed in, eyes blazing. “What in the Alpha’s name is going on—”
Her voice died as she took in the scene: overturned desks, glowing eyes, students backed against walls, magic still humming faintly in the air.
Her gaze snapped to the hybrid.
Then to Harper.
Her face hardened.
“Everyone out,” she ordered. “Now.”
No one argued.
Students flooded out in a rush of whispers and frightened glances, shoving past one another as if the room itself had become cursed. Within moments, only three remained—the teacher, the hybrid, and Harper.
The teacher exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. “You,” she said to the hybrid. “You should know better than to lose control.”
The girl’s jaw clenched. “I was on the floor.”
“And you,” the teacher said, turning to Harper, her stare sharp and assessing in a way that made Harper’s skin prickle. “You should come with me.”
Harper’s heart sank.
The hybrid stepped forward instantly. “She didn’t do anything.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
Harper swallowed. “Am I in trouble?”
The teacher didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on Harper—searching, measuring.
“No,” she said finally. “Not yet.”
That was somehow worse.
As Harper followed her toward the door, the hybrid called out quietly, “Hey.”
Harper turned.
Their eyes met.
“Be careful,” the girl said, her voice low now, stripped of bravado. “They don’t fear what you are yet.”
Harper’s chest tightened. “What am I?”
The hybrid’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile.
“That,” she said, “is what scares them most.”
The door closed behind Harper with a soft, final click.
And somewhere deep inside her, something old and patient shifted—
as if it had been waiting to be seen.
—
Harper sat stiffly in the hard plastic chair outside the office, her hands clenched in her lap so tightly her nails bit into her palms. The buzz of the fluorescent light overhead made her head ache. Every second that passed felt heavier than the last.
She still couldn’t believe this was happening.
The door opened with a sharp click.
“Harper Hale,” the woman behind the desk said coolly, not even looking up from the file in front of her. “Come in.”
Harper stood, her legs unsteady, and stepped into the office. The door shut behind her with a final thud.
The woman—Mrs. Eldridge, one of the senior administrators—finally raised her eyes. They were sharp, calculating, already made up.
“You will be suspended for two weeks,” she said flatly.
Harper froze. “What?”
“You caused a disturbance in class,” Mrs. Eldridge continued, flipping a page. “There was fighting, magical instability, panic among students. You were at the center of it.”
“That’s not true,” Harper blurted out, her shock quickly turning into anger. “I didn’t start anything. I didn’t even touch anyone. I was trying to stop it.”
Mrs. Eldridge sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Intent doesn’t erase outcome. This school has a reputation to maintain, especially with the upcoming council visit.”
Harper’s chest tightened. “You’re suspending me to protect the school,” she said slowly, realization dawning. “Not because I did anything wrong.”
Mrs. Eldridge’s lips thinned. “Careful with your tone.”
“So it doesn’t matter what actually happened?” Harper demanded, her voice trembling now. “Those girls attacked each other. I got dragged into it. One of them admitted she was a hybrid—”
“That is enough,” the woman snapped, eyes flashing. “This discussion is over.”
Harper stared at her, disbelief flooding her veins. “You didn’t even investigate.”
“I don’t need to,” Mrs. Eldridge replied coldly. “Students like you tend to attract… complications.”
The words stung more than Harper expected.
Before she could respond, the office door swung open without a knock.
“Wow,” a familiar voice drawled. “That was fast. Didn’t even pretend to be fair.”
Harper turned sharply.
Kai stood in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets, his expression lazy—but his eyes were sharp, dangerous. He walked in like he owned the place and dropped into the chair beside Harper without asking.
Mrs. Eldridge stiffened instantly. “Kai—I wasn’t expecting—”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Kai said lightly, crossing one leg over the other. “So let me get this straight. You’re pinning all the trouble on her so you don’t end up on the wrong side of the elite families?”
Harper’s heart skipped.
Mrs. Eldridge’s face paled. “N-no, Kai, that isn’t what I was doing at all.”
“Really?” Kai tilted his head, amused. “Because it sounds exactly like that.”
“You must understand,” she said quickly, her tone shifting, smoothing. “We have procedures. Expectations. Order.”
Kai leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And you must understand something too.” His voice dropped, all humor gone. “You don’t mess with my girlfriend.”
Harper’s breath caught.
Girlfriend?
Her eyes flew to Kai, wide with shock.
Mrs. Eldridge’s mouth opened slightly. “Your… girlfriend?”
Kai didn’t even look at Harper. “That’s what I said.”
“I—I didn’t know,” the woman stammered immediately, panic creeping into her eyes. “If I had known, this situation would have been handled differently.”
“No kidding,” Kai said dryly.
“I apologize, Harper,” Mrs. Eldridge said quickly, suddenly all smiles. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Of course, you’re not suspended. You’re free to go.”
Harper stared at her, stunned by the whiplash.
“Good,” Kai said, standing. “Because if she were suspended, the council would be hearing about a whole lot more than a classroom fight.”
Mrs. Eldridge swallowed hard. “You may both leave.”
Kai turned and grabbed Harper’s wrist, pulling her up before she could say a word. He didn’t stop until they were out of the office, down the hallway, and around a corner where no one else was in sight.
Only then did Harper yank her hand free.
“What was that?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Why would you say that?”
Kai stopped walking and turned to face her.
“For obvious reasons.”
“No,” Harper said sharply. “Not obvious. You don’t just call someone your girlfriend without asking.”
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “I needed leverage.”
“So you lied?”
“Not exactly.”
Her brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
Kai stepped closer, lowering his voice. “It means I’m planning on making you my girlfriend anyway. Might as well get ahead of it.”
Harper stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Kai, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re being targeted. You don’t see it yet, but I do.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to decide things for me.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But it keeps you safe.”
“I didn’t ask for protection.”
“Too bad,” Kai said quietly. “You have it now.”
Harper searched his face—expecting arrogance, manipulation—but found something else underneath. Tension. Worry. Something unspoken.
“And Koda?” she asked softly.
Kai’s jaw tightened instantly. “Leave him out of this.”
“Why?” she pressed. “Because this has everything to do with him.”
He looked away for a brief second, then back at her. “You don’t know what you’re standing in the middle of, Harper.”
“Then tell me.”
He hesitated.
Finally, he sighed. “I can’t. Not yet.”
Harper’s chest ached with frustration. “So you lie, make decisions for me, and expect me to just go along with it?”
Kai met her gaze steadily. “I expect you to survive.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Next time,” Harper said quietly, “ask me first.”
Kai nodded once. “Fair.”
Then, almost reluctantly, he added, “And for what it’s worth… I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have used that card if I didn’t intend to play it.”
Harper didn’t know whether that terrified her—or intrigued her more.
One thing was certain.
Nothing about her life was simple anymore.