Chapter 4 CHAPTER 4
Vivienne's POV
I shoved the apartment door open harder than I meant to, still fuming over Rafael.
Who did he think he was? Acting like I was the idiot for trying to help him. I replayed it in my head, over and over, each time cringing more at how stupid I must have looked.
The sour smell of alcohol hit me before I even stepped fully inside. My uncle was on the couch, slouched back with a half-empty wine bottle in one hand, the TV blasting some stupid game show. His eyes slid to me, red and glassy.
“Well, look who finally remembered where home is,” he slurred. “Little miss four-eyes.”
I froze in the doorway, gripping my bag tight. I should have kept walking straight to my room. But I didn’t move fast enough.
“Don’t just stand there like a statue!” he barked, throwing one of his old sneakers at me. It smacked against the wall inches from my head. “Go make me some damn food before I starve to death.”
My throat tightened, but I didn’t argue. I never did. Wordlessly, I dropped my bag and headed for the tiny kitchen. My hands shook as I pulled things together, rushing through the motions just to get it over with. The whole time, he muttered insults from the couch—pathetic, useless, waste of space.
I set the plate in front of him and ducked my head, waiting for him to snap again. He didn’t even look at me, just grabbed the fork and shoveled food into his mouth.
That was my chance to escape.
Back in my room, I shut the door and leaned against it, tears burning in my eyes.
I hated this life. Hated how small it made me feel. I pressed my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound as the tears finally slipped free.
After a while, I forced myself to breathe, to calm down. I climbed onto my bed and pulled out the new fantasy novel I had been reading at school. Werewolves, mates, magic… worlds where people like me could actually matter.
I curled up with it, letting the words blur the edges of my reality until my eyelids grew heavy. Soon, the book slid from my hands, and sleep pulled me under.
I didn’t even remember falling asleep. One second I was curled up with my book, the next I was standing in the middle of a forest.
—--
The trees stretched high above me, their branches twisting into shapes that blocked out the moon. Everything was shadows. Too dark. Too quiet.
My chest tightened. Something wasn’t right.
A howl cut through the silence and it made the hair on my arms stand straight up. I spun around, but I couldn’t see anything. Just endless black trees pressing in on me.
Run.
The thought screamed in my head, and my legs obeyed before I even decided. I ran, my breath crashing in and out, my shoes pounding against the damp ground. But behind me, I heard it—the heavy thud of paws, getting closer.
I pushed harder, but the forest floor was uneven. My foot caught on a root, and I went down hard, dirt scraping my palms. Pain shot up my knee as I tumbled forward.
I didn’t have time to move.
The wolf was already there.
Towering over me, red eyes glowing in the dark, sharp teeth glistening. My whole body froze. I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even breathe. Those eyes locked on mine, and something about them twisted in my chest. I knew them. Somehow.
Why do I know them?
The wolf lowered its head, and I braced for the bite. But instead, its tongue brushed against my cheek. Warm. Rough. Sparks shot through my skin like tiny jolts of electricity, and I gasped. The strangest thing happened then—something inside me shifted, like a thread connecting me to the beast. My fear tangled with this sudden pull. This bond.
I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t.
But then the wolf pulled back, a growl ripping from its throat. Its lips peeled back, teeth flashing, and before I could move, it snapped its jaws toward my face.
I screamed.
And my eyes flew open.
I woke up gasping, sweat sticking to my skin. My heart wouldn’t slow down.
That wolf… those eyes. Red. Burning. I knew them. I shouldn’t, but I did.
Rafael?
The thought made my stomach twist. Why him? Why did my dream mix him with… whatever that was? Sparks, heat, a bond that didn’t make sense. And then his teeth, snapping for me. I shivered.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I whispered into the empty room.
I rubbed my face, trying to erase it all. It was just a dream. Just my stupid brain making up nonsense because of yesterday. That was all. Nothing more.
I forced myself out of bed and into my routine. Shower. Uniform. Hair pulled back. I needed normal. Normal was safe.
I reached for my phone, ready to check the time, only to freeze.
Buzz. Buzz. Notifications lined my screen. Debit alerts. One after another.
My chest dropped as I opened my banking app. My savings account—the one I had been building for years, penny by penny, hoping it would cover at least part of my university tuition—was empty. Wiped clean.
Gone.
I stared, numb. My throat tightened, and the phone slipped in my sweaty hands.
All those late nights tutoring. All those odd part-time jobs. The skipped meals. All the times I said no to hanging out with Emma because I needed to save. All of it. Just gone.
No. No. No. No.
I refreshed the app again, my finger shaking against the screen. Zero. Still zero. My balance mocked me, a flat number where years of work used to sit.
My palms were sweaty. My throat felt like it was closing. There was only one person who could have touched that account. Only one person who always found a way to ruin everything.
Before I even realized it, I was storming down the hall, phone clenched so tight my knuckles ached. I shoved his door open with a bang.
My uncle barely flinched. He was sprawled across his filthy bed, reeking of booze, half-empty wine bottle still in his hand. The TV glow flickered across his glazed eyes.
“How could you?!” My voice cracked, louder than I had ever heard myself. My chest burned. “That money was mine! Do you hear me? Mine! I worked for years, for it!”
He blinked at me, slow, stupid, and then smirked like it was some big joke.
His smirk stretched wider as he dragged himself upright, swaying a little. The bottle slipped from his hand and clinked against the floor.
“Yeah,” he slurred. “I took it. All of it. You think money just grows on trees, kid? I had debts. Real debts. You should be thanking me. You’re still alive under my roof.”
My stomach turned. “Debts?!” My voice shook with rage. “That was my future! My tuition! Do you even hear yourself? You don’t pay for anything. You don’t pay for me! I worked every hour to save that money, and you—”
“Shut up,” he snapped, pointing a finger at me. “You’re young. You’ll make more. Don’t act like it’s the end of the world.”
“Don’t gaslight me!” The words ripped out before I could stop them. My chest was heaving, tears blurring my vision. “You think I don’t know? You think your sorry ass was ever going to pay for me? You’ve never done one decent thing for me! You ruined everything!”
His face twisted, rage blotting out the smirk. In a blink, his hand swung.
The slap cracked across my cheek so hard my head snapped to the side. Fire bloomed on my skin.
I staggered back, clutching my face, breath gone.
He loomed over me, eyes bloodshot, voice sharp and venomous. “Watch your mouth. One more word, and you’ll regret it.”
Then he shoved me out the door, slamming it so hard the walls shook.
I crumpled on the floor of the hallway, my knees giving out. The tears came hot and fast, spilling before I could stop them. My chest hurt, my cheek stung, but the worst pain was inside—the way it felt like the last piece of hope I had had been ripped away.