Page 8

Della

“It has come to my attention that a student has been causing mischief on the school grounds.” The head of school begins the mid-morning school meeting in the auditorium.

I sit near the back with River on one side and Cheyenne on the other. And I keep my face carefully blank.

“That will stop immediately ,” Ms. Arkwright continues, glaring at us.

Gluing the faculty doors shut had been a mistake. I can’t think why I thought it would be a good idea.

No, I know.

I wanted to interfere with the day's classes. If the teachers couldn’t clear their stuff out of their offices, they’d struggle to teach. If they struggled to teach, that would reach the omegas' parents, who might start wondering if Haven was really the best place for their little darlings.

I recall the sexy gardener with the dark beard, chestnut hair, and warm silvery gray eyes who had wanted to take me to Paris.

I hadn’t believed him.

Me?

Why would he want to take me to Paris?

I have no clue what he wanted, but that flirting had a purpose. He was up to something.

He’d been raking leaves when I’d tried to sneak out of the faculty building with the tube of superstrength superglue I’d stuffed down my bra. I’d waited, hoping he’d leave, but he’d shown no sign of going anywhere, forcing me to use other means.

Namely, climbing out of an upstairs window, into a nearby tree, and falling when a branch snapped under me.

I’d tumbled right into his arms.

It hadn't been easy pretending I was eager to get away instead of staying right there, nestled against the chest of a guy who smelled like dessert.

A few classes had been canceled, and this morning's meeting with the head of the school was a mystery to some, but it most definitely wasn’t to me.

None of the omegas have left yet, but there are more whispers about how Haven Academy isn’t as nice as they’d been led to believe. That every day, there’s a problem with the school or the teachers.

Which is exactly the sort of whispers I want to drift back to their parents, and maybe they’ll start pulling their kids out of a school with this many problems.

“We’ll be imposing a curfew,” Ms. Arkwright says firmly.

Shit .

“At least until we can address these… minor disturbances. Students will be escorted from the dorms to the dining hall for breakfast, and after dinner, there will be no free time. You will return to your dorms.” Ms. Arkwright flashes a false smile, revealing straight white teeth, and I mentally curse again.

We file out of the auditorium to head for our first class.

“Go on ahead,” I tell River. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

She slows. “Do you want me to come with you so you don’t get lost?”

Something about her expression stops me. An awareness that wasn’t there before.

I have spent the last week finding every excuse in the world to get lost, grab something I forgot, pop to the bathroom, or be late to class.

That probing look makes me think I haven’t been getting away with it as well as I thought I had. “You know it’s me, don’t you?”

We hang back, letting the other students go ahead.

River lowers her voice. “I’m not sure why you’ve been setting fire to the school and super-gluing teachers' doors shut, but I assume you have a reason?”

“Yes, and it’s a good one,” I say firmly. Freedom . “What better thing is there to fight for than to free the oppressed?”

She scrunches her nose, confused. “But no one is oppressed.”

“Aden said his parents would kick him out and cut him off if he didn’t mate with whichever alpha the school chooses. No one may be beaten or drugged, but that is still oppression in my book.”

“Hmm.” She doesn’t seem convinced.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone it was me?”

“Because I like you and I don’t want you to get into trouble. And…” Her voice trails off.

“And?” I prompt.

“You’ve been pushing all of us to open our eyes and decide what we want for ourselves instead of the teachers. You didn’t deserve to get into trouble for that, even if I’m not sure I agree with setting the science building on fire.”

I can’t help but give her a hug for that. “Thanks.”

She squeezes me back. “Just stop, okay? I don’t want you blowing yourself up or getting yourself kicked out.”

I pull away to look her in the face. “My sister mated to an alpha who didn’t treat her well. I don’t want the same for you.”

“Or you?”

It won’t because I’m a fake omega counting down each spritz of a rapidly emptying perfume bottle.

I don’t foresee any alphas in my future. “Sure. Can we talk about this later?” After this curfew kicks in, who knows when I’ll have another opportunity to get payback on a certain math professor?

“You’ll get in trouble,” she warns.

I back up. “Some trouble is worth it. Keep my seat warm.”

On my way out of the auditorium, I overheard a student say Mr. Vincent was covering a history lesson, so I have time to do some damage. I have a tiny bit of superglue left, and I’m curious about what he’ll do if he sits down and finds he can’t get back up again.

Smiling with malicious anticipation as I enter his empty room, I close the door behind me and pull the superglue from my bra. I’m twisting the lid off as I walk toward his chair when I hear footsteps heading down the hallway. They might pass this room, but what if it’s him?

I hurry to the back of the room and drop, scrunching myself behind a chair, willing whoever it is to walk past.

A door snicks open, and I quietly curse.

The footsteps are slow. Deliberate.

Just grab something from your desk and leave.

I mentally curse at the sound of a chair scraping the hardwood floor. Shit. He’s sitting down.

I give it a second, and very slowly, peer around the side of my chair, glaring at Professor Vincent sitting down at his desk. He’s not wearing the tweed today. A light blue shirt clings to strong forearms and the hard muscles of his shoulders.

Focus, Della .

What happened to that lesson he was supposed to be covering?

If I’d been one second faster, I would have superglued his butt to his chair and I’d have been laughing my way out of the door as he struggled to stand up.

He starts to look up, and I yank my head back.

The sound of a computer powering up is a blessing in disguise. If he’s busy doing something on his laptop, he won’t even know I’m here.

I start crawling toward the partially open door and hope he can’t see me. My red plaid skirt is way too short to be on my hands and knees.

I’m halfway there, practically home and dry.

“Miss Farrow, is there a reason you’re crawling across my classroom?”

I freeze at his mild question.

He’s guessing. I was as quiet as a mouse. He couldn’t have heard me.

I crawl forward.

A chair leg scrapes along the floor, and I halt.

Those same footsteps cross the room at the same unhurried pace as before. Professor Vincent closes the door, stands in front of it, and then turns to look directly at me.

“I asked you a question, Miss Farrow.”

I’m getting ready to lie when the tube of superglue I stuffed into my bra falls out right in front of him.