CHAPTER 1 — The Wrong Number
~Jade's POV~
'Drive fast, drive fast, drive fast!' I chanted in my mind.
The cab I took sped past the campus gates as music from the New Year's party echoed faintly through the night, but I could barely hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat.
My hands trembled as I stared down at my phone—at the chat, and the messages I couldn't take back.
Every single file sat there in a neat, damning stack—already sent, delivered… and opened.
My heart skipped another beat when I glanced at his name—Trainer.
And beneath his name, the three dots flickered.
Typing.
My stomach twisted violently as a wave of nausea rose so fast I had to press my palm against my lips to keep from throwing up right there in the backseat.
No. No, this couldn't be real. Not him, anyone but him.
I glanced at my phone again. The dots disappeared.
Then reappeared again, slower this time, like he wasn't rushing and he had all the time in the world to decide what to say after seeing… that.
My nudes.
My chest tightened painfully because that name at the top of the screen didn't belong to Troy. It belonged to one of the Alpha Triplets—sons of the Lycan King's Beta. And one of the most feared men in all of Lunaria after the Lycan King.
After accepting the request from my boyfriend, Troy, to send my nudes and a masturbation video, I did, and in the process, I mistakenly sent it to the new trainer, our Advanced Combat Professor and one of the deadliest alphas ever known.
"Miss, we're almost there," the driver said, glancing back at me, but I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
My gaze stayed locked on the screen as everything replayed in my head, like my mind was trying to punish me for being so stupid.
It had started with Ms. Rowan.
She had been in a hurry, her voice tense as she explained the situation she was in and why she needed my help. Her boyfriend had been rushed to the hospital after an accident upon his arrival, and was scheduled for an emergency surgery, with absolutely no one present.
I was told that the Alphas—the new trainers were arriving after the New Year, and the entire gym inventory needed to be documented before then and sent to them.
Pictures, equipment, serial numbers, everything was to be sent at exactly 10:00 p.m., strictly professional.
No mistakes.
She had given me the number herself, repeating the instructions like a warning. And I had taken it seriously.
I spent hours in the gym, moving from one machine to another, taking pictures, writing things down, double-checking everything until my arms ached and my head felt heavy.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted, already counting down the minutes until I could send the files and get some rest.
Then Troy texted.
At first, it was harmless. Troy had reminded me of what he had asked for earlier—my nude pictures and a video of me pleasuring myself.
He pushed a little harder this time, his words slipping from teasing into something that made it difficult to refuse without feeling like I was disappointing him.
I should have said no. I knew I should have, but I didn't.
I told myself it wasn't a big deal, that it was normal and just between us. So I did it.
With shaky hands and a racing heart, I recorded what he wanted, took the pictures he asked for, and tried not to think too much about how wrong it felt.
Then my alarm rang at 09:59 p.m.
In a rush, still flustered and distracted, I grabbed my phone, typed "Tr…" and tapped the first contact that came up.
I didn't check it or rethink it to avoid stopping. Troy was always the first name to appear.
I just hit send. And in that single moment… I ruined everything.