I huff, tucking the tank under my arm with the aggressive nonchalance of a woman who absolutely did not just sprint through a flood to protect a garment she claims to despise.
"Not a word, Nakamura."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Not. A. Word."
"My lips are sealed." He sips his juice. "Unlike our plumbing."
I glare at him.
He grins.
The water continues its patient advance across the hallway carpet, claiming territory with the indifferent inevitability of a problem that will be resolved by professionals but not before it has thoroughly disrupted the morning of two Omegas whose greatest concerns, five minutes ago, were unrequited crushes and unwashed athletic wear.
Now what a way to start the day.
CHAPTER 14
Bag Of Bones
~SAGE~
The final bell of the day is the sweetest sound the Valenridge campus produces.
Not because I dislike class. The lectures here are genuinely engaging in a way that community college extension courses and online hockey analytics certifications never managed.
The professors are sharp, the material is relevant, and I have discovered a previously dormant enthusiasm for Pack Dynamics as an academic subject rather than a lived nightmare.
But the bell means freedom. It means the corridors belong to movement instead of structure, and movement is where I exist most comfortably.
The first day of classes is behind me, and I survived it without punching anyone, which I consider a personal milestone given that I stretched during gym specifically for the possibility that hands might need to be thrown. Jace, trailing behind me through the east wing with his hands shoved in his pockets and his tie loosened to the point of decorative irrelevance, hasbeen my shadow between periods, the two of us navigating the campus geography with the synchronized instinct of people who have been orbiting each other's lives long enough to move in formation without discussing it.
I know where Mae's last class lets out.
I have known since I memorized her schedule yesterday over lunch, cross-referencing it with the campus map and committing the room numbers to memory with the same precision I apply to opposing team rosters before a game. Not because I am stalking her. Because Sage Holloway does not lose track of the people who matter to her twice.
The classroom door is open when Jace and I round the corner, students filtering out in the predictable exodus pattern of teenagers released from academic captivity. I scan the interior, my green eyes sweeping across rows of desks and hunched postures and the scattered detritus of first-day orientation materials until they land on a ponytail with a twist at the end.
"MABELINE!"
I burst through the doorway with the velocity and grace of a natural disaster that has decided this particular building needs renovating. My hair is spiked from running my hands through it during a particularly tedious History of Pack Legislation lecture. My tie has surrendered any pretense of serving its designed function and is hanging from my collar like a textile casualty of war.
A guy near the back of the room groans.
"Take your tomboy ass somewhere else, Sage. Some of us are trying to exist in peace."
I flip him off without breaking stride, my middle finger deployed with the practiced accuracy of a woman who has been delivering this specific gesture since elementary school and has refined the art to competition grade.
"Go eat grass, Tyler."
I weave through the desks until I reach Mae, grabbing her shoulders with both hands and shaking her with the restrained enthusiasm of someone who is genuinely checking whether their best friend survived a full day of Valenridge instruction without incident.
"First day! How was it? Did anyone give you trouble? Do I need to fight someone? I am prepared to fight someone. I stretched during gym specifically in case I needed to throw hands after school."
Mae laughs, and the sound hits me in the center of my chest the same way it did in the cafeteria, bright and surprised and carrying the specific quality of joy that she produces when she forgets to be cautious.
"No one needs to fight anyone."
