Isabella slipped into her seat, Seraphina beside her, her books clutched tightly as though they might shield her from the stares still cutting into her. The room felt thick with silence, yet her heart beat so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it.
Theodore had not looked away. His golden eyes burned hotter than before, each flicker of fire a tether drawing her closer, though she kept her gaze lowered to the desk.
And then the door opened.
A ripple of unease passed through the classroom. A group of boys strode in, their presence sharp, hostile—the enemy pack. They carried themselves with arrogance, each step a claim of territory that wasn't theirs. Their scent clashed with the air, bitter and wrong.
One of them—broad-shouldered, lips curled into a smug smile—broke away from the group and strode straight to Isabella's desk. Without hesitation, he bent forward, one hand braced on her table.
"Isabella," his voice was loud enough for the whole room, dripping with mockery disguised as charm, "a beauty like you shouldn't waste your time here. You belong with us—with me."
The class stilled. A proposal. A public one.
Theodore's jaw tightened, a low growl vibrating in his chest, too soft for humans but loud enough for wolves to feel. His golden eyes were molten fire now, pupils thinning, wolf surging forward.
But the scene wasn't done.
At the back of the room, leaning against a desk with his arms crossed and one leg folded lazily over the other, sat the Alpha of the enemy pack. His expression was unreadable, almost amused. He watched with predator's patience, eyes flicking first to Isabella, then to Theodore.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. He saw it—the change, the fire, the growl Theodore couldn't quite suppress. The enemy Alpha leaned back further, as though settling in to enjoy a play staged only for him.
Sefarina's hand brushed Isabella's under the desk, a silent warning. Isabella froze, her dark eyes wide. She felt the weight of Theodore's golden stare and the dangerous amusement radiating from the other Alpha.
Two forces pulling at her.
And she—caught in the middle, trembling like a secret about to shatter.