Page 52

Violet stood under the shower, letting the water stream over her head as she chanted four names over and over, as though reciting some dark mantra:

"Asher Nightshade."

"Roman Draven."

"Griffin Hale."

"Alaric Storm."

It had been over an hour since she stepped into the showers, and though the stench of wolf urine was gone, her skin still crawled with the memory of it.

Wolf urine.

That was what they had branded her with, Roman Draven, in particular. Yet the others, Asher, Griffin, and Alaric, had stood by. Maybe they hadn’t explicitly agreed to it, but their silent approval had been damning enough.

Violet’s blood ran cold as her mind drifted back to the scene.

She could still picture the mocking grins on her classmates’ faces, especially the elites.

They had whipped out their phones to record her humiliation, broadcasting it for everyone at Lunaris Academy to see.

Now she was undoubtedly the most talked-about person in the school forum, all over again.

What enraged her most wasn’t just her classmates, though, it was the teacher who should have protected her. Instead, after the ordeal, the teacher had only offered Violet a hand to help her up. When Violet ignored it, all Mrs. Clarkson had said was:

"Congratulations, you’re now a full member of Lunaris, and it took real courage to endure that. You can go wash up and take the rest of the class off. I’m sure you need it."

There had been a flicker of pity in her eyes, but not a shred of remorse, as if what had happened was just another ordinary day at the academy.

Her classmates’ taunting laughter echoed in her ears once more, threatening to overwhelm her. Violet suddenly shut off the shower, the abrupt silence deafening. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin, and not just from the memory of the scenting prank. The water had turned cold.

Violet had used up all the hot water, the icy cascade pouring over her without her noticing for a while now. A small, bitter smile tugged at her lips. At least someone would be annoyed when they discovered there was no hot water left. A petty victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Violet stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself as she moved toward the mirror. She rubbed her hair with another towel, watching her reflection take shape.

Her hair, plastered to her scalp, made her look beaten down and exhausted.

Yet as she gazed into her mirror, something fierce stared back at her from those golden eyes.

They still burned brightly, refusing to admit defeat.

She might be tired, humiliated, and furious, but she was not, by any means, broken.

With her head still buzzing with the events of the day, Violet stepped out of the bathroom. She froze in her tracks when three pairs of eyes immediately turned to her, conversations dying mid-sentence.

Damn it.

She had forgotten they were in the room. And judging by the way they fell silent, they had definitely been talking about her.

Swallowing her irritation, Violet quickly recovered, walking straight to her side of the bed. Without a care for their stares, she unwrapped her towel, standing naked for a brief second before slipping into her tank top and drawstring shorts swiftly without caring for their stares.

Violet then busied herself by making her bed. She was already preparing to lie down on it, when Lila approached her sheepishly. Although Violet caught her coming from the corner of her eye, she pretended not to notice.

"V—Violet?" Lila called out tentatively, but Violet ignored her.

Once she finished, Violet lay down, draping an arm over her face, burying herself in the crook of her elbow. Even though she couldn’t see Lila, Violet could still feel her presence. The girl was refusing to leave.

Fine, she could stand there then.

Except a few minutes later, Violet lifted her head and growled, "What the fuck do you want from me?!"

But to her shock, Lila presented a tray in front of her. "Hungry?"

Violet was stunned; she hadn’t seen that coming. She had expected Lila to come groveling and begging for forgiveness—something Violet could ignore to make her suffer a bit, which was just her nature, holding grudges and being vengeful.

But then the scent of food drifted into her nose, and it dawned on Violet that she had not eaten supper, having been holed up in this room licking her wounds.

"Don’t think this changes anything," she told Lila and took the tray from her, not missing the small smile on the girl’s face.

Violet dug into her food like a savage, tearing the fried chicken apart without grace. She hadn’t had an appetite earlier in the afternoon and now, having missed dinner, she was starving. Not to mention, she needed her strength to escape Lunaris later today.

"How are you doing?" Ivy’s voice broke through her focus, startling her.

Violet paused, glancing up at the blonde girl. There was no sarcasm or hostility in Ivy’s blue eyes, just... warmth. That was quite unexpected.

"What do you think? How would you feel in my shoes?" Violet snapped, her mouth full of food.

"I’m sorry," Lila blurted out suddenly. "I should have told you. I thought it would be fun and didn’t want to ruin the surprise."

"Oh, I guess a hundred guys flashing their dicks in my face is what you call a ’surprise,’ aye?" Violet sneered, her sarcastic tone returning.

Lila opened her mouth to respond, but someone else beat her to it.

"Werewolves have no issue with nudity. It’s just how they are. If there’s any problem, it’s us humans who feel awkward about it," Daisy Fairchild, the quiet nerd, spoke up from her corner.

There was no challenge or insult in that response, as if the girl had merely stated a fact. But Violet wasn’t in the mood for cold logic, not when she felt like the target of a cruel joke.

"And the urine part?" Violet shot back, her voice sharp. "Are werewolves so uncivilized that they don’t recognize chamber pots?"

The insult landed like a spark in a dry forest. Ivy glared at her, clearly disapproving of the jab. Guess someone was still an ass-kisser after all.

But Violet didn’t care. She was a victim here. She wouldn’t let this be dismissed as some trivial cultural quirk.

And to think, she’d thought Ivy would have learned from her own experience with those assholes.

"It’s a marker," Daisy replied.

"What?"

"Werewolves aren’t far removed from their primal beasts, and wolves are known to mark their territory with their scent. In your case, urine."

"So in one word, they marked you all like this?" Violet asked, suddenly feeling stupid if that was the case.

"Oh no, you’re the only one marked with urine."

"What?"

Lila spoke this time, "For us, they only licked and smelled our hands. It was ticklish. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you would hate it and try to escape the experience. I couldn’t let that happen."

Violet was frowning now. "So why did he do that? Why did he piss on me?"

Daisy shrugged, lying back on her bed as she said, "Who knows? Perhaps he’s staking his claim on you?"

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