"You just made the biggest mistake of your lives."
There are four of them. Two look hardly older than him, Level Two students, probably banking on their numbers and rank. The third looks like he’s been in a few too many fights. The fourth Darien recognizes from his own class. His na is Lars. A bloody coward.
All of them freeze the mont they set their eyes on him. So here they are – the traffickers.
Except Lars who bolts imdiately. The others follow before his Alpha aura can even settle on them. Darien growls and almost chases after them—his blood demands it, but a low, broken sound pulls him back.
It’s a whimper. He turns around and his heart stops.
Heidi lies on the dirt, crumpled like a discarded doll. Her leg is bent the wrong way—he doesn’t even need a healer to tell him it’s fractured. Her sweater is torn, face bruised, and blood paints her arm where it looks like they tried to claw through her skin.
Her phone lies face down near her, cracked with its screen flickering. Her bag is torn open, its contents scattered in the dirt like broken pieces of her dignity. Darien falls to his knees beside her.
His throat closes.
"Heidi..." His voice breaks on her na.
She doesn’t respond.
Her skin is too pale. Her breathing is shallow, like she’s trying not to exist. Rage builds again, but it’s quieter now, colder. It nestles deep in his bones.
"Oh, you poor thing..."
He lifts her carefully, trying not to jostle her injuries, but she still groans in pain. The sound is the worst thing he’s ever heard. Worse than all the insults he’s ever received. Worse than that ti he almost lost control in his wolf form. Worse than any disappointnt.
He looks toward the main building and decides the distance is too far. And yet, she needs help. Fast.
He can’t take her to the infirmary. They’ll ask questions. They’ll report. They’ll talk. She’s still just an oga in their eyes, and she’ll be blad even though she’s the victim. Scandalized. Maybe even punished for drawing attention.
He grits his teeth. His wolf howls inside his mind, clawing to take over, to tear down the world to find those bastards, but Darien shoves him back. Not now when she needs a boy, not a beast.
He shifts her weight into his arms and sprints past the main gates and through the crowd.
On their way to the school’s main gates, there are whispers. Screams, even. Girls scream his na as he passes, confused and shocked. Phones raised, snapping pictures but Darien ignores them all.
"Is that...? Is that Darien Bellamy?"
"And he’s holding—oh my god, who is that?!"
"Is she... bleeding?!
Carrying her will damn him. But he carries her anyway. Let them watch, he thinks bitterly. Let the whole damn school know what their ’highborns’ do when no one’s watching.
He pushes through the gate, cradling her close, and heads straight for the street. A cab slows as if the driver’s uncertain whether to stop, but Darien growls and the man unlocks the doors without hesitation.
"Where to, Señor?" the driver stamrs.
"Bellamy estate. Now."
The cab jerks forward.
The ride is hell.
Every bump makes Heidi twitch. Every red light feels like a death sentence. Darien presses her closer, whispering words he doesn’t understand... things he thinks might help. Things he wishes he’d said earlier.
"It’s okay... you’re okay... just stay with , please."
He doesn’t know when his cheek presses to her forehead, but he feels the heat radiating off her skin. She’s burning. She’s unconscious. She might be...
No. No, no. Not on his watch. Not when it’s Heidi. Not when it’s her.
But if she isn’t fine? What if she doesn’t wake up? What if he was too late? He leans down, rests his forehead against hers.
"I swear, I’ll kill them," he breathes. "I’ll rip their throats out for this."
She doesn’t respond. Her breathing’s still faintly there. The cab screeches to a halt outside the Bellamy estate gates. Darien doesn’t wait. He tosses bills over the seat without counting, then bolts out of the car, holding Heidi like she’s made of glass.
"Open the gates!" he roars.
The guards, confused and panicked, scramble to comply.
Darien adjusts the girl in his arms and her limbs dangle, limp and lifeless. Her head rests against his shoulder, matted hair brushing his cheek as her scent invades his senses again. That damn scent. Even now, underneath the stain of blood and the cold sweat on her skin, it still slls like sothing that makes his wolf sit up.
Sothing worth protecting.
His chest rises and falls with the effort of running and controlling his emotions. The mont they cross the tall, steel gates of the estate, Darien halts. He’s not stupid. The mansion is a fishbowl. A glittering glass trap where nothing escapes his the Alpha’s wives’ hawk-eyed staff or his siblings’ tendency to snoop like it’s a national sport.
He doesn’t want questions. He doesn’t want to explain why he’s got a bloodied, unconscious Oga in his arms like so kind of knight in a school uniform.
No. The mansion is a ’no-go’ area.
He pivots, heart racing as he changes course down the hidden cobblestone path leading toward the far end of the estate and toward the small, modern bungalow his father gifted him on his sixteenth birthday. It was supposed to be a place for independence.
For once, he’s thankful for the privacy it offers. But that privacy will co with a price right now. It ans being alone... under the sa roof with Heidi.
Oh, no. That can’t happen. Argh, wait... it has to.
The trees lining the path sway gently, the rustling leaves providing a cover for his footsteps as he rushes through, ignoring the scratch of low-hanging branches and the chirping of birds that sound too damn cheerful for the mont.
Then, sothing makes him halt abruptly and urgently.
"Darien?"
Oh... shit.
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