Chapter 23
Elena's POV
I went through two classes on autopilot before my brain finally caught up.
What the hell am I doing?
Sitting in Advanced Translation Theory, all I could think about was the tremor in Damon's voice this morning. The way he'd gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
When class ended, I headed back to the dorm.
Lila was on her bed scrolling through her phone. She looked up when I walked in, then froze.
"You're finally back! Last night I thought—" She sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Wait. Your clothes. You changed?"
I glanced down. The sweater Caleb had given me this morning.
I lied. "A friend lent it to me."
But Lila was already off the bed, crossing the room with that predatory curiosity she got when she smelled gossip. Before I could step back, she leaned in and inhaled.
"Wait." Her eyes went wide. "Hold on. This scent—"
My pulse spiked. "Lila—"
"Cedar wood?" She breathed in again. "And something cold. And... is that tobacco? A hint of smoke?" She pulled back, grinning. "Elena. This is a man's scent."
Heat flooded my face. "I told you, someone lent me clothes because mine got dirty—"
"Oh my God." She grabbed my shoulders. "You spent the night with a guy."
"There's no man's scent—"
Without thinking, I pulled the fabric closer and breathed in, quickly drawn by something deeper in that smell.
Lila's grin turned wicked. "Oh my God. Look at your face right now."
I dropped my hands. Too late.
"You look like—how do I put this—like a junkie who just got her fix."
"I do not—"
"Your cheeks are flushed." She flopped back on her bed, laughing. "Elena Cross, oh my God. You're totally gone for this guy."
"I'm not—" My voice came out too high. "I don't even—he's just a friend. That's all."
Lila raised one eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure."
I thought she'd drop it. She didn't.
Lila suddenly shot up from her bed and rummaged through her desk drawer.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" She pulled out a worn notebook, flipping through pages. "You know how I've been researching folklore for my sociology project?"
"Yeah?"
"So I found this really old book in the library archive." She settled cross-legged on her bed, eyes bright. "And there was this section on... well, it called them 'wolf clans.' Ancient traditions and stuff."
My heart stuttered. "Wolf clans?"
"I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But listen to this part." She cleared her throat and read: "When the warrior of the pack claims his chosen mate, he marks her with his scent—surrounding her with his presence, until all who encounter her know she belongs to him."
I held my breath.
"Isn't that wild?" Lila laughed. "Like, imagine actually scent-marking someone. Sounds kind of... I don't know. Possessive? But also romantic in a weird way."
"It's—" I forced my voice steady. "It's just a story, right?"
"Oh, totally." Lila tossed the notebook aside. "Modern world, no werewolves. Though honestly? The guy who lent you that sweater is clearly very into you. Like, textbook possessive behavior."
I should have laughed it off. Should have changed the subject.
Instead, I heard myself say, "I'm going to return it. The clothes."
Lila's expression softened. She studied me for a long moment. "Do you want to?"
"What?"
"Return them. Because from where I'm sitting, it's your emotional support." She tilted her head. "You really want to give that back?"
No. God, no. The thought of handing over this sweater, of losing that scent, made my chest physically ache.
I opened my mouth to deny it.
And then Damon's name surfaced in my mind—I'm supposed to marry Damon—and my stomach twisted.
The nausea hit so fast I barely had time to slap a hand over my mouth. I doubled over, fighting the urge to vomit.
"Elena!" Lila was beside me in an instant, hand on my back. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"
I shook my head, forcing deep breaths through my nose. Gradually, the cramping eased.
"I'm fine." My voice came out hoarse. "Just... tired."
"Can I ask you something serious?"
I stared at the ceiling. "Okay."
"Do you still have feelings for Damon?"
The question hung there, heavy and unavoidable.
I thought about lying. About saying the things I was supposed to say—of course I do, we're meant to be together, it's complicated but we'll figure it out.
Instead, I whispered, "I don't know anymore."
Lila shifted. Waiting.
"Everyone always said we were perfect for each other," I continued. My voice felt distant. "Since we were kids. The families made plans. And I just... went along with it. But..."
"But?"
"But lately..." I pressed my palms against my eyes. "I've been trying to avoid him. I don't know what comes next."
"What does your gut say?"
I thought about Damon's calls. The way my hands would shake when his name flashed on my screen. Not from excitement. From dread.
"My gut says run," I admitted.
Silence. Then: "So why don't you?"
Because of the blood pact. If I didn't lock this down, our family would lose everything. Because if I ran, I had nowhere to go.
Because even if I could somehow break free, I could never be with Caleb—not when Damon hated him so much he'd destroy anyone who got close.
But I didn't say any of that.
"I just need to get through finals," I said. "Graduate. Then I'll figure out what comes next."
Lila was quiet for a long time. Then: "For what it's worth? I think you deserve someone who makes you feel safe. Not someone you need to run from."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
---
At night, breathing evened out around me as everyone fell asleep.
But I lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling, replaying a memory I'd tried to forget.
The pack gathering at Blackwood Manor.
Damon had stood on the terrace, surrounded by younger wolves.
"Listen up," he'd said, voice carrying casual authority. "I'm going to make this real simple. I hate Caleb. That mixed-blood freak makes my skin crawl. So here's the deal: anyone who's my friend—and that includes all of you—you don't talk to him. You don't help him. You sure as hell don't defend him."
Someone had laughed nervously. "What if he—"
"If he tries to approach you, you walk away. If he needs something, you ignore him. If anyone asks, you tell them he's not worth your time." Damon's eyes had glowed faint gold. "Anyone who goes behind my back to associate with that thing is betraying me. We clear?"
One by one, heads had bowed. Couldn't resist.
I'd stood at the edge of the crowd, and felt my own head dip in acknowledgment.
And I'd hated myself for it.