“But in a much creepier way,” I mumble on a huge sigh.
It’s been three fucking months since the GBE was expelled from the academy. Three months of the Cursed running things, of freedom, and togetherness.
So why does it feel like we’re still oppressed?
Okay, not all of us feel that way, obviously.
I mean, Mira is living freely in the open with her Alphas. They even have a private suite up on the fourth floor, where all the old faculty rooms are still being renovated.
And they’re not alone.
So many more packs than I ever imagined existed here are congregating in public, holding hands—sometimes more.
I’m slowly getting used to all the PDA, but little spikes of panic still course through me at the sight of it.
Laurant was given back his position at the academy, which is still running, only much differently than before. We’re all learning the truth now; the histories that had been hidden from us our whole lives.
Erich winds up being in almost all the places I go. And the Omega, Zephyr, is always there with him, only as far away from Erich as he can get while still keeping those pale eyes on me.
Like now. We’re in the cafeteria, lively chatter all around. Mira’s Alphas sit at a table adjacent to us, keeping an occasional watchful eye on her, but respecting our girl time well enough. On the far side of the room, beside the entrance, sits Erich, arms crossed over his chest, legs straight out in front of him, feet resting on the chair opposite his. His ice blue eyes are steady on our table—on me.
And way in the back of the cafeteria, opposite the entrance, is Zephyr. He has this knowing grin on his gorgeous face, which has filled out a bit in the three months since he’s been out of that hellhole experimental facility. His blond hair is combed back, an occasional lock falling into his pale lilac eyes that he brushes away. Any time I look at him, that grin turns into a brilliant, toothy smile that makes my insides mush.
Yet neither of them approaches me. They just watch like predators in the distance, keeping a wide berth.
And it is pissing me off.
Lips pursed, I catch Mira’s gaze, and her eyes flick to Arlowe in silent communication.
Our friend has not been herself since the academy was liberated, and I can’t get the reason why out of her.
I don’t think it has anything to do with remorse about all the killing she did, though.
“Hey,” Mira says softly to Lowe. “How’s everything going with you?”
Lowe frowns without looking up from pushing her food around her plate. “It’s fine.”
“How’s your brother?” I ask, hoping that this topic might liven her up.
“He’s good,” she says, only a bit of lift in her spirits. “It’s been amazing seeing him so often.” Her head dips. “I figured I’d be sold before he was transferred here.”
“I can’t believe it.” Mira breathes the words, her eyes wide as she stares over my shoulder.
I turn to follow her gaze and find her looking at a hulking Alpha standing still as a statue in the far corner of the room, arms crossed over his massive chest.
I’ve seen him around campus a lot lately, though never before the GBE was removed. He may have come in with the resistance forces afterward.
I’m not the only one with stalker issues.
This giant has been following the uncharacteristically quiet Arlowe around like a mute bodyguard for the past couple of weeks.
I’ve never heard him speak, never seen him approach Lowe, yet he’s always around. But this Alpha’s towering presence is almost foreboding, his narrowed eyes scanning the whole room before resting briefly on Arlowe, then doing it all again.
When I look back at Mira, I ask, “What?”
Her lips part, eyes blink before darting to her mate, Colt, at the next table. I can almost see the silent exchange between them, her brows drawing tight before she looks back at me, then glances at Arlowe.
She keeps her voice quiet. “That Alpha over there,” she gestures with her chin at the giant, “was one of Ivanov’s indentured soldiers.”
