Raven POV:
Panic detonated inside me like a bomb.
My scent.
She'd noticed my scent.
No, no, no—this couldn't be happening. I'd been careful, I had taken the blockers. I wasn't supposed to leak Omega pheromones. Not now. Not ever.
I froze where I stood, pulse racing in my ears. If Alex figured it out—if anyone figured it out—my father would kill me. Literally kill me.
"Stop!" I snapped, sharper than I intended, my voice breaking just enough to betray the fear rattling my bones.
Her wolf's yellow flickered brighter for a second before she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing a breath through clenched teeth. She braced her hands on the counter, knuckles whitening, fighting herself like she'd just been punched.
"I—shit," she hissed. "Sorry. I don't know what the hell—" She stopped, biting the words off before they could finish.
My throat was dry. My heart wouldn't calm. She couldn't know. She couldn't.
I scrambled for the lie I always leaned on, the one drilled into me since I was old enough to understand how dangerous my truth was. "It's just… my condition," I blurted, heat crawling into my cheeks. "Sometimes it—it messes with my scent. Doctors said it's… unstable. Nothing to worry about."
Her eyes snapped open, still a little too bright, but at least they weren't glowing anymore. She stared at me, confusion and suspicion tangled on her face, like she wanted to press but knew she shouldn't.
"Your condition," she repeated slowly.
"Yes," I said quickly, too quickly, but I couldn't take it back now. "You know. The one that makes everyone call me the 'sick alpha.'" I forced a weak, bitter laugh, praying she bought it. "Guess it's contagious enough to make food smell better too, huh?"
The joke landed flat.
But Alex let out a low breath and scrubbed a hand over her face. When she looked at me again, her gaze had softened, though something restless still lingered there.
"Right. Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out." She grabbed the plates, setting them down on the table with a clatter that was just a little too forceful. "Come eat before it gets cold."
I moved slowly, cautiously, every nerve in my body screaming to get back in my room, lock the door, and never come out. But I couldn't—hiding would only make her more suspicious. So, I sat across from her, keeping my hands tight in my lap.
Alex shoveled food onto her fork like nothing had happened, but the way her eyes darted to me every few seconds, the tension in her shoulders, the faint flush on her neck—I knew she hadn't forgotten that moment.
And I knew this wasn't over.
********
I ate quickly. Too quickly, really, almost choking twice because all I could think about was getting away before Alex's eyes started glowing again. The food was good, surprisingly so, but it tasted like ash in my mouth with panic still burning in my chest.
The moment I put the fork down, I mumbled something about needing to get to class. Alex just gave me a casual little grin and waved me off. "Good luck out there, Raven."
Like it was that easy.
I muttered a quick thanks and made my escape, heading straight back to my room. As soon as the door closed behind me, I sagged against it, lungs tight.
My hands trembled as I lifted the collar of my dress to my nose. Then I sniffed at my wrist. My skin. My hair. I pressed my face into the fabric of my sleeve. Over and over again, desperate to catch anything, anything that might've set Alex off.
But I smelled… normal.
Or, at least, I smelled like me. Clean, faintly floral from the soap Rosy always bought me, a little metallic tang from the blood that had stained my clothes earlier. Nothing screaming Omega. Nothing screaming danger.
So why had Alex looked at me like that? What brought her wolf to the surface?
My heart thudded harder as the thought crept in, the one I didn't want to admit: What if something was breaking through the blockers?
Father had always been strict about them, shoving more into my hands than I could count, lecturing me about how vital it was that I never, ever miss a dose. I'd been on them so long that half the time I didn't know what I'd feel like without them. But one thing he promised—swore—was that they worked.
So why had Alex reacted like she'd caught a whiff of me in heat?
"No," I whispered sharply to myself, shaking my head. "That's impossible."
And yet… my chest still felt tight. Like something inside me was stirring, restless, testing the edges of the cage I'd buried it in all my life.
My wolf.
I clenched my fists. No. She hadn't so much as twitched on my eighteenth birthday. Not when she was supposed to awaken. Not when every normal wolf celebrated their bond with their animal half. She'd stayed silent, hidden, absent.
She wasn't waking up now.
She couldn't be.
I forced myself to take long, steady breaths. In, out. In, out. Slowly, the tremors eased from my hands, though the unease still coiled heavy in my gut.
I checked my reflection in the mirror, searching for any sign—flushed skin, glowing eyes, anything—that would betray me. But all I saw was the same pale girl, golden hair a mess around her face, wide eyes ringed with exhaustion.
Normal. Sickly. Forgettable. That was all anyone needed to see.
"Fine," I told my reflection firmly. "You're fine. Get a grip."
After washing my face, I finally dragged myself to my desk to check my schedule. One glance at the neat rows of classes nearly made me groan out loud. Combat practice. Fantastic. Nothing like getting tossed around by muscle-headed alphas to really cap off the day.
Still, it was better than lingering here, spiraling into panic until Alex knocked on my door to check on me.
I shoved my things into my bag and pulled the strap tight across my shoulder. The door handle was cool in my hand as I paused, listening for any sound outside.
Silence.
Good.
I stepped out, closing the door quietly behind me. Passing through the common area, I caught sight of Alex stretched out on the couch, a novel open in her hands. She looked completely at ease, legs dangling over the armrest, expression relaxed. Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn't nearly exposed me a few minutes ago.
Why wasn't she in class? I almost asked. But the question stuck in my throat. It wasn't my business. She wasn't my problem.
I had enough to deal with—between faking sickness, hiding my scent, dodging alphas, and making sure my father never had a reason to drag me home in chains.
So I swallowed the words, squared my shoulders, and walked past her without a sound.
Better to stay in my lane. My own business was already far too much to handle.