Chapter 21 Chapter 21: Fractured Trust
Chapter 21 Chapter 21: Fractured Trust
The bruise had already started to change color by morning.I noticed it when I finally forced myself to the mirror after Lyra left for her early shift. The purple had bled outward like spilled ink, but at the edges it was turning sickly yellow-green—the kind of shift that should have taken days on a normal human. On me,
it had happened overnight. I pressed two fingers to the tender spot. Pain flared, sharp and hot, but duller than yesterday. My skin felt warmer there, almost feverish. Healing. The wolf inside me rumbled—low, satisfied, like it approved of the progress. I stared at my reflection. Bloodshot eyes, split lip scabbed over, cheek swollen but not as bad as it should have been. When I blinked, gold flickered at the edges of my irises—brief, bright, gone. Not a trick of the light. Not imagination. I exhaled slowly. “Okay,” I told the girl in the mirror. “We’re doing this.”Lyra had left a note on my desk: Went to grab coffee and check rumors.
Meet me at the breakfast corner table if you’re up for it. Hood up. Don’t push yourself. – L I crumpled the note, shoved it into my pocket. I wasn’t hiding today. The dining hall smelled like burnt toast and cheap coffee and too many bodies packed into one space. Rowan, Ivy, and Dex were already at the usual table—Rowan demolishing a stack of pancakes, Ivy scrolling her phone with a frown,
Dex was tapping at his laptop as it owed him money. I pulled my hood low anyway. Walked straight to them. Sat without a word. Rowan looked up first. His fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Jesus, Sage.” Ivy’s head snapped around. Her eyes narrowed on the bruise. “That’s not fading.” “It’s fading faster than it should,” I said quietly. “Wolf thing.” Dex closed his laptop halfway.
“You sure you should be here?” “No.” I reached for the coffee carafe, poured a mug with hands that only shook a little. “But I’m here anyway.” They exchanged looks. The kind that said they’d already talked about me before I arrived. Ivy leaned forward. “We need to know if you’re okay to keep going. Really okay.” I met her gaze. “I’m not okay. But I’m not stopping.” Rowan set his fork down. “Whoever did that to you—” “Is dead,” I finished. “Or supposed to be.” Silence dropped like a stone.
Dex opened his laptop again. Turned the screen toward us. “Pulled what I could on Langford overnight. Faculty file’s mostly scrubbed, but there are echoes. Three formal complaints between 2019 and 2023. All female students.
All were withdrawn after ‘administrative counseling.’ One of them—Clara Voss—no relation to the dean, just bad luck on the surname—dropped out mid-Trials cycle two years ago. Official reason: ‘personal health.’ Her medical file mentions a sedative overdose. Self-inflicted. Case closed.” Ivy’s jaw tightened. “He was screening.” “Or prepping,” Dex said. “Compliant bodies for rituals. Or just… practice.” Rowan’s knuckles went white around his mug. “And the suicide note?” “Voss won’t release it,” Ivy said. “But the rumor mill’s loud. Girls are talking in bathrooms and hallways. Same story: private sessions, tea, blackouts, waking up somewhere else. Some remember more than others.” I stared into my coffee. “Some remember claws.”
They all looked at me. I lifted my sleeve just enough to show the faint red lines on my forearm. “I scratched him. He panicked. Then… someone hit him. Hard.” Dex frowned. “Security feed from the lab hall is wiped for that window. But there’s a shadow—dark coat, taller than average. Doesn’t move like Kieran.” My stomach twisted. “Then who?” No one answered. Lyra arrived then, two to-go cups in hand. She slid one to me without a word and sat beside Ivy. “Rumors are everywhere,” she said quietly. “Some girls are talking about reporting old incidents now that he’s gone. Administration’s already calling it ‘tragic but isolated.’” “Voss’s favorite phrase,” Rowan muttered. I took a sip of coffee. Bitter. Strong. Grounding. “We need to assume Langford was part of it,” I said. “Not random. Connected.” Ivy nodded. “If he was dosing girls for Voss, then his death was cleanup. And whoever saved you…” “Knows more than we do,” Dex finished. I looked around the table. These people—strangers a few months ago—were the only ones I trusted right now. “I’m going to training this afternoon,” I said. “With Kieran.” Rowan’s brows shot up. “You sure?” “No. But I need answers.” Lyra touched my wrist under the table. Brief. Steady.
“Text if you need us.” I squeezed her fingers once. Let go. The training center smelled like sweat and rubber mats and pine—always pine, like Kieran carried the forest with him. He was already there when I arrived. Door open. Waiting. He looked up as I stepped inside. His eyes went straight to the bruise. Jaw locked so hard I thought I heard teeth grind. “You’re hurt.”
“Already told you that.” He didn’t move closer. Just watched myself cross the room. I stopped a few feet away. Hood still up. Hands in pockets. “You said you weren’t there.” “I wasn’t.” “Then who was?” Kieran exhaled through his nose. “I felt it. Your fear. It hit me like a blade. I ran. Got to the lab too late.
The door was open. Glass everywhere. He was already down.” I stared at him. “You expect me to believe you just… missed it?” “I expect you to believe I’m not the only thing watching you anymore.” My pulse kicked. “The ghost wolf.” He didn’t deny it. “Is it her?” I asked again. “My mother?”
Kieran looked away—toward the window where snow tapped the glass. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s tied to your blood. Asking questions draws attention. From Voss. From the council. From things older than both.” Anger flared hot in my chest. “Stop protecting me by lying.” “I’m not lying.” His voice dropped. “I’m trying to keep you alive.” I stepped closer. Shoved his chest—hard.
He didn’t budge. Caught my wrists instead. Gentle. Firm. Our eyes locked. His eyes were full of gold now. Mine burned in answer—amber bleeding into gold, bright enough I saw the reflection in his pupils. The room felt smaller. Hotter. “You should have been there,” I whispered. “I know.” His thumbs brushed the inside of my wrists—once. Barely there. I yanked free. Stepped back. Breathing hard. “Don’t touch me until you tell me the truth.” He let his hands fall. Nodded once. I turned. Walked out.
The clearing behind the maintenance shed was silent except for the soft hush of falling snow. I sat on the same fallen log as before. Closed my eyes. Focused. The shift came faster this time. No coaxing. Just rage—clean, bright, useful. Pressure behind my eyes first—hot, insistent. Then the stretch: cartilage lengthening, skin prickling, fur pushing through in patches along my arms, my neck.
Canines dropped fully—sharp against my tongue. Claws slid free—black, curved, gleaming. I opened my eyes. The world sharpened. Colors brighter. Snow glowing. I could hear the heartbeat of a rabbit fifty yards away—fast, terrified. I held it. One minute. Two. Pain flared—white-hot—but I breathed through it. In four. Hold-four. Out-four. The wolf didn’t fight me. It settled. Like coming home. A whisper brushed my mind—not words. A feeling.
Remember. I didn’t know what it meant. But I felt it—deep in my chest, in my bones. My mother’s face flickered behind my eyes—not a clear memory, but an echo. Dark hair. Tired smile. The same gold in her gaze I saw in mine now. I let the shift go. Recoil hit hard—bones snapping back, fur receding, claws retracting. I gasped. Bent forward. Hands braced on knees in the snow. Sweat dripped down my spine despite the cold.
But I hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t lost control. I looked at my hands—normal again. Then at the trees. No ghost wolf tonight. But I knew it was there. Watching. Waiting. I stood. Brushed snow from my jeans. Three days had become two. Maybe less. I walked back toward the dorm—hood up, steps steady. The bruise on my cheek was already smaller. The wolf inside me walked with me—quiet, sure, no longer a stranger. Tomorrow, I would face whatever Voss threw at us. And when I did, I wouldn’t be the girl who hid in library corners anymore. I’d be the one they should have feared from the beginning.