Chapter 30 CHAPTER 30

Chapter 30 CHAPTER 30
Vivienne’s POV
Three days later. 

I'd been living at Rafael and Emma's place for three days, and it still felt surreal.

The guest room had basically become mine. Emma had helped me unpack my sparse belongings, hanging up my few clothes in the massive closet that could have fit my entire old bedroom. The bed was so soft I'd woken up the first morning thinking I was still dreaming.

And the food. Oh God, the food.

Mr. Cole prepared actual meals three times a day. Breakfast with fresh fruit and pancakes. Lunch packed for school with sandwiches that had more than just peanut butter. Dinner that wasn't ramen or whatever expired canned goods Uncle Martin had lying around.

I'd gained like five pounds already. Not that I was complaining.

Emma had also forced me to quit my jobs. All of them.

"You need to focus on school," she'd insisted when I protested. "Not killing yourself working three part-time jobs."

"But I need money—"

"Which is why I'm giving you an allowance." She'd shoved cash into my hands before I could argue. "Consider it payment for putting up with my brother's brooding."

I'd tried to refuse. Tried to explain that I couldn't just take money from her, that I needed to earn it, that getting comfortable like this terrified me because what if it all went away?

But Emma had been relentless. And eventually, I'd given in.

Now, walking out of English class with her, I still felt like I was living someone else's life.

"You're doing it again," Emma said, nudging my shoulder.

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you look around like you're waiting for someone to tell you this is all temporary."

I didn't have a response to that. Because she was right.

The past three days at school had been... rough. The gossip about Rafael kissing me in the cafeteria hadn't died down. If anything, it had gotten worse.

People stared. Whispered. I'd heard at least five different versions of what had "really" happened between Rafael, Jessica, and me. Most of them painted me as some kind of homewrecker.

But Emma had been my shield. Literally. She walked with me between classes, sat with me at lunch, and shot death glares at anyone who looked at me wrong.

I was so grateful for her I could cry.

Jessica had been the worst part. She'd been back at school for two days now, and the looks she gave me could have melted steel. Pure hatred. Every time I saw her, she was surrounded by her friends, whispering and glaring.

But honestly? I couldn't bring myself to care about Jessica anymore. Not after what she'd done. Not after what Rafael had done to protect me.

"Come on," Emma said, linking her arm through mine. "Let's get food. I'm starving."

We headed toward the cafeteria, joining the stream of students. As we walked, I realized something.

"I haven't seen Rafael much," I said quietly. "Like, at all. Is he avoiding me?"

Emma shot me a look. "What? No. He's just been swamped with hockey practice."

"Hockey practice?"

"Yeah. They have a huge game coming up this weekend. Championship qualifier or something. And since Rafael's their star player, Coach has been running him into the ground with extra training."

Oh.

That made sense. I guess.

But I couldn't help the small pang of disappointment in my chest.

I missed him.

Which was stupid. I'd only known him—really known him—for a few days. But I missed the way he looked at me. Missed those sparks that danced across my skin every time we touched.

And weirdly, the fact that he was a werewolf didn't bother me the way it should have.

I'd spent the last three nights reading everything I could find about werewolves. Fictional stories, mythology, folklore—anything. And whenever I had questions, Emma answered them.

She'd explained pack dynamics, shifting, enhanced senses, mate bonds—

I'd stopped her there. "Mate bonds?"

"Yeah. It's like... a soulmate thing. When a wolf finds their fated mate, there's this instant connection. A pull. It's supposed to be really intense."

"Have you ever seen it happen?"

Emma had gone quiet for a second. "Yeah. Once or twice."

Something in her tone made me think there was more to it, but she'd changed the subject before I could ask.

That was the thing. Emma answered my questions, but I could tell she was holding something back. She and Rafael both were.

There was something they weren't telling me. Something important.

And I needed to figure out what it was.

We entered the cafeteria and grabbed trays, loading them up with food. I still wasn't used to being able to take whatever I wanted without counting every dollar.

"Table in the corner?" Emma suggested.

"Yeah."

We settled into our usual spot, and I'd barely taken two bites when Emma's expression darkened.

"Don't look now, but the Wicked Witch of the West is staring at you."

I looked anyway.

Jessica sat three tables over, surrounded by her friends. And she was glaring at me with so much hatred I could feel it from here.

"Ignore her," I muttered, looking back at my food.

"Oh, I'm not ignoring that." Emma stood up slightly and called across the cafeteria. "Hey Jessica! Take a picture, it'll last longer!"

Several people turned to look. Jessica's face went red.

"Emma," I hissed, grabbing her arm. "Don't. Please."

"She's been glaring at you for three days straight. Someone needs to tell her to back off."

"And someone needs to not cause a scene in the middle of lunch." I pulled her back down. "Please. I just want to eat in peace."

Emma looked like she wanted to argue, but she sat back down. "Fine. But if she tries anything—and I mean anything—I'm not holding back."

"Fair enough."

We ate in relative peace for a few minutes. But I could still feel Jessica's eyes on me. Still feel the weight of everyone's stares and whispers.

"Does it get easier?" I asked quietly. "The staring. The gossip."

"Eventually." Emma took a bite of her sandwich. "People will find something else to talk about soon. There's always new drama."

"I hope so."

"And hey, at least you've got me." She grinned. "Best bodyguard in the business."

Despite everything, I smiled. "Yeah. I'm really lucky to have you."

"Damn right you are."

I looked back down at my food, but my mind was still on Rafael. On the way his eyes had looked that night—red and inhuman. On the way he'd moved, faster and stronger than should be possible.

On the way he'd looked at me, like I was something precious he needed to protect.

I wanted to see him. Wanted to ask him the questions that had been piling up in my head.

Wanted to feel those sparks again.

But if he was busy with hockey, I'd have to wait.

Even if waiting was driving me crazy.

We finished lunch and headed back to class. The afternoon dragged on forever—Chemistry, then History, and finally English Lit. I barely paid attention to any of it.

My mind kept drifting to Rafael. To those sparks. To the questions I needed answered.

"You're thinking about him again," Emma whispered during English, leaning over her desk.

My face went hot. "What? No."

"You're literally staring out the window with that dreamy look. You've had it all day."

"I don't have a dreamy look—"

"You totally do." She grinned. "Just admit it. You want to see him."

I bit my lip. "Maybe. I was thinking... maybe I could go watch his practice? After school?"

Emma's grin widened. "Oh my God, yes. Finally!"

"Shh!" I glanced at the teacher, who thankfully hadn't noticed us talking. "I just thought, you know, since he's been busy and I haven't really talked to him since that night..."

"You don't need to explain. You like him. It's cute." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "And trust me, he'd love it if you showed up."

"Really?"

"Really. Rafael's been asking about you every morning. 'How's Vivienne? Is she eating? Is she sleeping okay?' It's kind of adorable actually."

Something warm bloomed in my chest. He'd been asking about me?

"Okay," I said quietly. "Then yeah. I'll go."

"Perfect. Practice ends around five. We can grab snacks first and—"

The classroom door opened.

Mrs. Patterson, one of the office staff, stepped inside. She was an older woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, and she always looked slightly annoyed about something.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wilson," she said to our English teacher. "I need to speak with Vivienne Chen."

My stomach dropped.

Every head in the classroom turned to look at me. I felt my face burning.

"Me?" My voice came out squeaky.

"Yes. The principal would like to see you in his office. Immediately."

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

The principal wanted to see me?

My hands started shaking. My throat went tight. I couldn't breathe properly.

What did I do? Why did he want to see me? Was this about Uncle Martin? Did someone find out what happened? Were the police involved? Was I in trouble?

"Vivienne?" Mrs. Patterson's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Now, please."

I tried to stand up, but my legs felt like jelly. My vision was getting blurry around the edges.

"Hey." Emma's hand grabbed mine under the desk, squeezing tight. "Breathe."

"I can't—"

"Yes you can. In through your nose. Out through your mouth." She demonstrated, and I tried to copy her. One shaky breath. Then another.

"Miss Chen," Mrs. Patterson said impatiently. "We don't have all day."

"I'm coming with her," Emma announced, standing up and gathering her stuff.

Mrs. Patterson frowned. "That's not necessary—"

"I'm coming." Emma's tone left no room for argument. She kept holding my hand as she turned to me. "Come on, Vivi. I've got you."

I managed to stand on wobbly legs, grabbing my backpack with my free hand. Emma didn't let go as we walked toward the door.

The entire class was staring. I heard whispers starting up behind us.

"What do you think she did?"

"Maybe it's about Rafael..."

"I heard the principal's been investigating—"

The door closed behind us, cutting off the voices.

The hallway felt too long. Too empty. My footsteps echoed too loud.

Mrs. Patterson walked ahead of us, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Emma stayed beside me, still holding my hand.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Whatever this is, we'll handle it."

"What if it's about my uncle? What if someone found out Rafael—"

"They didn't. There's no way. We were careful." Emma squeezed my hand again. "Just breathe, Vivi. Don't spiral."

But I was already spiraling. My mind was racing through every possible scenario, each one worse than the last.

We reached the main office. Mrs. Patterson held the door open, and we stepped inside.

The office was small and stuffy, with outdated posters about college applications on the walls. The secretary's desk sat empty—probably on break.

Mrs. Patterson pointed to a row of chairs. "Wait here. Principal Morrison will be with you shortly."

Then she disappeared into the principal's office, closing the door behind her.

Emma pulled me down into one of the chairs, still holding my hand. "Okay. Deep breaths. You're okay."

"I'm not okay. The principal wants to see me, Emma. That's never good."

"You don't know that. Maybe it's something boring. Like paperwork or—"

"At my old school, kids only got called to the principal's office when they were in serious trouble." My voice was getting higher. "What if this is serious? What if—"

The office door opened.

Principal Morrison stepped out. He was a tall man with graying hair and glasses that always seemed to be sliding down his nose. "Vivienne? Come on in."

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Emma's hand tightened around mine. "I'm right here," she whispered. "You've got this."

I gulped and stood up, my legs feeling like they might give out. Emma let go of my hand slowly, like she didn't want to.

I walked toward the door. Each step felt like I was walking toward my own execution.

Principal Morrison held the door open wider. "Just you, please."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

The door started to close behind me, and I caught one last glimpse of Emma. She gave me an encouraging smile, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

The principal's office was bigger than I expected. Dark wooden desk, leather chairs, diplomas on the wall. A window overlooking the parking lot.

And sitting in one of those leather chairs was Uncle Martin.

My breath caught in my throat.