Chapter 48

Renee

I couldn’t focus.

The professor’s voice blurred into the low hum of background noise, like a distant engine revving somewhere just out of sight, out of reach. What time was it? How much longer did I have to be in class? I had no fucking idea, but the migraine that had been building all day was only getting worse. My pen shook in my hand as I tried to take notes, but every scratch of it against the paper scraped against my brain like nails on a chalkboard.

Everything felt too loud. Too sharp.

Overstimulated, I was pretty sure was the word for it.

I could hear the clicking of a student’s fingers on their laptop three rows over, could smell the sour tang of someone’s energy drink even from across the room. I wasn’t just tired anymore. I was on edge—jittery, restless, and increasingly aware of things I shouldn’t be able to notice.

My senses were changing

It wasn’t just a hunch—I’d read enough to know what this meant. Something in me was waking up. Shifting. It had started a few days ago, in flashes—a stronger sense of smell here, sharper hearing there. But today, it was overwhelming. My whole body buzzed with a low hum of tension, like I was caught in a current I couldn’t see.

And as happy as I was to think that maybe, just maybe, I was coming into my wolf, this is not how I'd imagined it.

I swallowed hard, pretending to jot down a note I couldn’t even read.

Was it happening like this because I was different? I thought about the way it was always described—aching bones, hunter instincts, strange dreams. I’d experienced none of it in my old life. I’d never shifted. Never come close.

So why now? Maybe the mark on me was more than just a blessing?

The bell rang, and I stood too fast, the motion making my vision blur for a second. I rubbed at my temple, willing the dull ache behind my eyes to stay dull—but it only sharpened as I joined the students leaving the room. I followed the current out into the courtyard.

A splash of water filled the air. The sound hit me like a spike to the skull. My knees nearly gave out from the force of the migraine that surged up, blinding and instant. My vision went black for a moment. My blood went cold. A scream of terror and desperation filled me. Then, it was gone at the sound of laughter.

"You okay, man?"

I turned to look at the young man pulling himself out of the fountain. It looked like he'd tripped on a loose brick and tumbled into the campus fountain. His friends were laughing, the sound of it

rang through the courtyard, echoing.

I gasped, stumbling toward a bench and gripping the edge so hard my knuckles went white. The world tilted around me, my ears ringing with pressure. I could hear everything—squeaky sneakers on wet pavement, the high-pitched laughter of students, the fluttering wings of birds startled by the commotion.

It was too much.

Too much.

I pressed my forehead into my hands, breathing shallowly through my nose, trying not to throw up as my senses kept screaming with every little sound.

What was supposed to help with migraines? Caffeine, right?

The scent of coffee hit my nose, parting though all the scents and guiding me down the corridor to towards the campus' coffee shop.

Coffee.

I just needed coffee.

That was all. Just something hot and bitter to take the edge off the pounding in my skull, maybe some sunglasses to try and block out the light that was ripping through my eyes like crazy. I stumbled, fighting thorugh the auras that drifted and shimmered through my vision. The way the world still felt like it was vibrating just beneath my skin was maddening. I kept my head down as I crossed campus, walking a little too fast, hoping the breeze would clear my thoughts or that, at least, I'd get some coffee in me sooner rather than later.

But halfway to the café, I heard it.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Complete with a wolf whistle. The voice was sharp, nasal, too familiar in the worst way. I ignored it, kept walking.

“You gonna act stuck-up now? I saw the photos. Bet you’d like it dirty in the stalls, huh?”

I stopped then. My gut plummeting and turning to look at the guy sauntering up to me, licking his lips.

"What did you say to me?"

He was maybe twenty, in a university hoodie that didn't match the leer on his face or the way he grabbed himself through his jeans like it was supposed to be some kind of invitation. It was disgusting, and the fact that his friends were catcalling behind him only made things worse. I had never seen this guy in all my time on campus, but it was clear that he'd seen me, probably from all the altered photos circulating around.

The creep had the nerve to look at me like he could see straight though my clothing. I cringed, drawing away from him. My stomach lurched. I felt ill. I could smell his cologne, his must like a fine misted funk wafting off of him. I wretched at his stench. By the goddess, did all men smell like that when they were… aroused? Being disgusting?

"You following me to the bathroom or what?" He said, licking his lips. "Promise I’ll be fast with a mouth like that. I've got classes soon, but we could meet later, I've got a lot of frustrations to work out."

Before I could even open my mouth to curse him out, or throw up on him, there was a blur of motion to my left. My bodyguard—who’d been trailing a polite distance behind me like always—moved so fast the guy barely had time to flinch. He was face-down on the pavement in seconds, his arms twisted behind his back, shouting about how it wasn't a big deal as everyone knew "I was asking for it.” My stomach was still lurching. I bent over, crouched down trying to breathe through it. The air was screaming, prickling and screeching against my skin. A warning howl echoed through my mind, like I was seconds away from shifting or fighting.

His friend stepped forward, puffing up, probably trying to make a scene or look brave.

"Hey man, you can't do that to him. You know who he is?"

But that didn’t last long either. A second guard, this one in plain clothes I hadn’t even noticed, took him down before I had even registered he'd moved. A crowd had gathered, phones already out, whispering, watching and surprised. A few others turned to come and collect the two assholes. I saw a pair of campus security officers, then there was a trio of plainclothes guards around me. None of them stank. They smelled almost pleasant, calming like they all bathed in lavender scented soap, but their presences were a bit overwhelming.

"B-Back," I gasped, gripping my head.

They gave me more space. One of them pulled out his phone. I couldn't hear his fingers on the keypad, noting it was one of those new all-touch screen phones. I was frozen, jaw tight, as the guards called campus security and made sure both of them were hauled away. One of them was still screaming that he had rights, that it was a setup.

Maybe it was. Maybe Vivian had dared them to. Maybe they’d seen those doctored pictures and thought they could get a rise out of me—or worse, that they were true.

I heard the guard on the phone talking about a medic of some sort.

"No," I said. "I just… migraine. Need coffee."

He carried on, signaling one of the others. I turned to see what his reaction was, but then I caught a glimpse of Vivian standing just beyond the fringe of the crowd, phone in hand, watching like she was hoping I’d snap. Probably planning to post something else about me. Her lips curled into a smirk—just for a second—before she turned and stormed off grumbling and growling, clearly disappointed that whatever she'd planned hadn't gone through.

My hands trembled. Anger was pushing down the pain, but not by much. If I had any doubt that she was doing this on purpose, that she was behind all of it, one way or another, that pretty much cleared it up.

Even with whatever Arielle and Dominic were doing to deal with the photos, Vivian's campaign against me was still going strong.

I clenched my jaw, taking the shades that one of the bodyguards offered me from his own face.

"Shall we, Ms. Mountainhowl?" He asked, offering me his hand.

I nodded and took his hand. My legs wobbling as we continued down the walking path to the scent of brewing coffee.