Whispers of Arrival

Sylvie POV

A rhythmic thumping hammers against the inside of my skull. I force my heavy eyelids open, wincing as the harsh morning light pierces my vision. My throat feels like sandpaper, raw and parched. I lick my cracked lips, trying to swallow down the thick dryness, feeling disoriented. Blinking a few times, my blurry vision slowly focuses on the familiar water stains on my ceiling. I am tucked into my own bed. How did I get up here? The last memory my brain offers up is a sudden flash of the downstairs living room. My father's enraged face. The heavy strike of his hand connecting with the side of my head. The sickening impact, the blinding burst of pain, and then a suffocating darkness. I know I fell unconscious on the floor.

I glance toward the closed bedroom door. The old man wouldn't have bothered to move me. He would have left me bleeding on the hardwood. That left only Declan. The thought makes my chest tight. My older brother, the guy who usually turns a blind eye to the violence, actually carried me up the stairs and put me into bed. I sit up slowly, testing my balance against a sudden dizzy spell. A rare, tiny spark of gratitude flickers in my chest. He risked our father's wrath just to get me off the cold floor.

I reach a trembling hand up to rub my aching scalp. My fingers catch in something stiff and sticky. Dried blood. It matts my dark hair together in a disgusting clump near the roots. I stifle a groan. Growing my hair out took years, and it serves as my only physical shield at school. I refuse to chop it off. Pushing myself off the mattress, I ignore the lingering ache and hurry into the cramped bathroom down the hall. I examine my hand under the running tap water—the deep cuts from last night are gone, replaced by faint pink lines already fading into normal skin. My werewolf healing worked its magic overnight. I probe the side of my head. The gash is closed tight. I grab a cheap bottle of shampoo and spend the next twenty minutes scrubbing the rust-colored flakes out of my strands.

Once my hair is clean, I grab my worn backpack and creep out into the hallway. Every step down the wooden stairs is calculated to avoid the creaky floorboards. A foul stench hits my nose before I even reach the bottom landing. The living room is a disaster of empty glass bottles and dirty dishes scattered across the rug. Right in the middle of it all, my father slumps heavily in his worn recliner. A thunderous snore rips from his throat. The scent of cheap alcohol rolls off him.

I hold my breath and tiptoe past his chair. Waking him up is a death sentence. I slide into the kitchen, grab a slice of bread, slap some cheese on it, and devour the meager breakfast in three massive bites. Declan is nowhere in sight. Good riddance. Grabbing my bag, I unlock the front door, ease it open, and slip outside into the crisp morning air.

The walk to the high school is strange. Usually, some random pack member bumps my shoulder or throws a nasty comment my way. Today, the sidewalks are clear. The journey is uninterrupted. I keep my head down, waiting for a rock to hit my back, but nothing happens. I almost cannot believe my good fortune. Has the Moon Goddess finally taken a tiny bit of pity on my miserable existence?

The fragile peace shatters the second I push through the heavy double doors of the school. The main hallway is a chaotic sea of shouting students and slamming lockers. A large group of cheerleaders blocks the path. I instinctively drop my chin, letting my long hair fall forward like a curtain to hide my bruised face. I hug my backpack tight and inch along the wall, hoping to slip past unnoticed. To my shock, they are far too engrossed in their huddle to even register my presence.

"Can you believe there’s a new kid at school today?" one of the blondes squeals.

"I heard he’s an Alpha," Sloane announces loudly.

I freeze, pressing my shoulder into the cold metal of a locker. Sloane tosses her glossy hair over her shoulder, a massive, triumphant smile plastered across her face.

"I just know that he’s going to be my mate. It’s obvious," she purrs. Her friends exchange uneasy glances. Looks like her loyal followers also want a piece of this poor new Alpha.

"What if you’re wrong, though?" a brunette dares to ask. Sloane whips her head around, shooting the girl a scorching glare that shuts her up on the spot.

"He’ll still want me," Sloane says, her tone dripping with smug arrogance. "After all, I’m the most beautiful girl in the school. We don’t always have to agree to be with mates. We can choose to mark each other."

I roll my eyes behind the safety of my hair. I almost scoff out loud at her shallow confidence. Mates are meant to tie two souls together forever. She can have him. Considering how I look, wearing oversized clothes and sporting fresh bruises, I doubt I will even catch his eye. And that is fine by me. I prefer remaining invisible in the shadows.

Leaving the cheerleaders behind, I finally reach my locker. I yank the metal door open and pull out my worn notebooks. My eyes land on my thick math textbook, and my stomach drops. Algebra. Thanks to my father knocking me unconscious last night, I never finished my homework. I stare at the blank worksheet. I never miss assignments. I drag my grades up with pure stubbornness because they are my only ticket to college, my only escape from this pack.

Now, I have nothing to hand in. I bitterly curse the man snoring in the recliner back home. He stopped being a real father to me a long time ago, and now his drunken violence is ruining my future. I dread the hit my grade will take today. The teacher won't care about excuses. I slam the locker shut, gritting my teeth. I refuse to let my college dreams slip away. If I have to, I will offer to do extra credit to make up the missing points.

I adjust the strap of my bag and turn down the corridor toward my first class. As I weave through the crowds, my mind circles back to the gossip. This new boy. It is rare for pack leaders to attend a normal public school. Will this Alpha be kind, or will he keep his distance? Or worse—will he be just another nightmare walking the halls? Being bullied by regular shifters is already bad enough. I don't want to find out how much worse the torment can get if a powerful Alpha decides to join in.