Chapter 215

[ 1,116 words ]

Trouble.

Elliot

The packhouse was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. Most of the adults were in the Underworld, sorting out some new system between the gates and Haiden’s waiting room, so it had just been me, a few pack members, and a mountain of paperwork to handle. I was halfway through sorting through the patrol reports when the office phone rang p>

I didn’t even think about it, I just answered. “Red Moon Pack house, Elliot speaking p>

There was a pause, then a deep voice cleared his throat on the other end. “Mr. Hammond here, principal of Red Moon

High. I was hoping to speak to the Alphas or Luna regarding Macey p>

For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. “Macey p>

He sighed. “Yes. She has found herself in some trouble p>

I sat back in my chair, blinking. “Trouble p>

“Yes, I thought her guardians should be brought in and notified. If her parents are unavailable, perhaps you could stand in

for them p>

It took me a moment to find my voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that p>

He thanked me and hung up, leaving me staring at the receiver like it had personally offended me. Macey. In trouble. That

didn’t make sense. She never broke the rules at school, not unless someone pushed her to.

By the time I portaled to the school, I had my calm face on, the one I’d perfected for meetings and funerals and every

other moment I wasn’t allowed to lose control. But the moment I saw him sitting there beside her in the hallway, that

calm cracked like glass. He looked exactly the way I remembered: smug relaxed, perfectly at ease. Like nothing in the

world could touch him. Like he hadn’t just dragged her into trouble she didn’t deserve. And Macey, she looked small and

nervous. Her eyes flicked up when she saw me, and for a heartbeat, something soft twisted in my chest. She hadn’t

expected me. She’d expected them. I almost smiled at her. Almost. But then Dean opened his mouth.

When the prin@pal called us in, I kept my expression neutral, answered his questions, nodded at the right times. But the

entire time, I could feel Dean’s eyes on her, that casual, easy charm rolling off him like smoke. The principal’s office was

the kind of beige that swallowed sound. Hammond asked the polite, practiced questions, the sort you could tell he’d asked

a thousand times, about attendance, behavior, whether there was anything going on at home that might explain Macey

suddenly deciding rules didn’t apply. I let him talk. I let him ask. I kept my face a slab of neutral, answering the logistical staff when needed, nodding at the right places. All the while I could feel Dean’s presence like a smear across my vision, because he was there, if not in the room. I could still picture him beside her in the hallway, the smug tilt to his mouth, the way he’d leaned in like the world mwed him a moment with her.

193

5:34 pm

Trouble.

PP

When Hammond finally turned to Macey, I didn’t answer for her. Not because I didn’t want to protect her, but because she

had to own this. I cocked an eyebrow at her, an invitation, not an accusation. Is there something you want to tell him?

She looked smaller than she ever had in my presence, shoulders folding in like she was trying to make herself into less of

a target. “No,” she said, but the single word came clean and steady. “It was a stupid, impulsive idea. It won’t happen

again p>

It should have been enough. It was enough. Hammond gave a weary sigh, reminded her about detention, gave us the usual

lecture about making good choices. I thanked him for his time, shook his hand, and we rose. The bell between classes

slammed through the building like a gunshot, signalling the end of school. People flowed back into the halls, chatter rising

and falling. I felt the current of it and stepped into it, my pace long and hard, boots hitting the linoleum in a steady drum.

I had no intention of hanging around any longer for whatever other small stings the rest of the day might hand me.

“Elliot, wait!” she called behind me, breathless as she tried to close the distance.

Her voice should have been an anchor. Instead it was a thin thread tugging at something raw inside me. I slowed for half a

heartbeat, enough to hear her, then kept walking. Her words blurred into the background: “Just listen, please, Elliot, you

don’t get it p>

I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t. The image that had been eating at me all afternoon pushed everything else out: Dean’s

hand moving toward her face, the way he’d leaned in, like a trespasser who believed he was entitled to enter. The thought

of him close to her, mouth to mouth, grinning as if possession were a game, sent a cold flare through me that made the

world narrow to black and white. I had to get out of there. Not because I didn’t care. God, I did. Because care and fury in

the same room weren’t safe for either of us. If she saw the heat in my eyes she’d twist it into something I couldn’t take back. If I stayed she would see how badly I wanted to erase the sight of him and, worse, how thin a thing my control really

was.

So I walked faster. I let the people in the corridor blur past me, students, teachers, the smell of pencil shavings and old

coffee, until the school doors loomed and the outside air hit my face. I didn’t look back to see if she followed. I didn’t

want the pleading in her eyes to be the thing that broke me in half. I needed space. I needed work. I needed a place where

my hands and my head had to do something simple and true. The orphanage was near, and I would help at dinner, herd

the kids to bed, let their small problems drown out the big one pounding in my chest. As I stepped into the street I told

myself the things Xavier had said earlier: give it time. Keep distance for now. Let fate and her choose.

But the idea of her being with me felt fragile. The image of Dean hovering too close to her wouldn’t leave. I walked harder

anyway, away from the school, away from the sound of her voice trailing after me, away from a moment I didn’t want her

to see.

2/3

6:35 pm

PP

Goddess Of The Underworld

Juliet Zvayi

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