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POLARIS

S tepping into Professor Whitmore’s office, my gaze immediately darts to the filing cabinet along the right hand wall.

I can see the folder with my name on it as if it was in my hands now.

Page after page of my diary inserts. The vision doesn’t last long, though, as I step toward his desk, recalling the feeling of the carpet biting into my knees as Tatum fucked my mouth.

Damn.

That went from rage to embarrassment in zero point five seconds flat.

Whitmore clears his throat as he takes a seat in his chair, waving for me to get comfortable in the seat across from him. “Miss Beauchamp, how are you finding your time here at the academy?”

I frown at him, “Uh, fine?” I don’t really know how he wants me to answer. Not with the truth, that’s for sure.

“Your name was called today. How does that make you feel?”

I tilt my head at him, digesting his words as I wait to feel an overwhelming emotion, but nothing comes.

Odd.

“I haven’t really had time to process it yet,” I answer with a shrug, and he hums in acknowledgement.

With his lips pursed, he leans forward on his desk between us, resting his chin on his hands as his gaze narrows. “You know, many from Florentines do well here,” he offers, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Okay?”

He nods along with himself, but his eyes don’t waver from mine. “Do you know why that is?”

My pulse quickens slightly, as though it’s a trick question I should know the answer to, but I don’t.

“No,” I admit, and he smiles. It’s not warm or reassuring, it’s almost… condescending.

“Because they remain isolated,” he states clearly, and understanding washes over me.

My gut tells me exactly where this is going, but I don’t say a word. I just nod curtly.

“Right,” I mutter, hoping to bring the conversation to a close, but he’s not done yet.

“They don’t let their emotions get the better of them.”

“Okay.”

“They don’t really gel with their factions. It’s a little late for that, given their prior separation,” he continues, and I hum in agreement. “So the idea of mingling with other factions never materializes,” he explains, and I sigh.

“I get it,” I blurt. I’ve already reached my limit of him dancing around the subject instead of getting straight to the point.

“Do you?” he pushes, dropping his palms to the desk as he leans forward even more.

“Maybe not, why don’t you spell it out for me?”

“You have a coin, one that’s also in the possession of those in other factions. How did you come to acquire the coin, or come to be aware of the fact that they do too, for that matter?”

I freeze, jaw slack as I gape at him.

What the fuck?

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I reply, heat creeping up my neck as my pulse thrums.

How the hell does he know that?

Did someone tell him?

The wolves wouldn’t, I don’t think? Blaze? Surely not. And I certainly haven’t. The only thing I’ve done is… write it in my diary, but that wasn’t… that was the other day, in my new diary that is no longer connected to this guy's file.

Unless…

“I think we both know what I’m talking about Miss Beauchamp, and I say this from a genuine place of concern: mixing with these factions is not safe. Not for you, not for them, and not for innocent bystanders.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

My hands are fisted in my lap, my spine achingly straight.

His lips part, but before he says another word, the telephone on his desk rings, cutting his attention from me for a split second before he glances at me once again.

“That will be all for today, Miss Beauchamp. Please, heed my warning.” He waves his hand dismissively, and as much as I want to demand more from him, I need to breathe, but I know that’s impossible in here.

Launching to my feet, I rush from the room, startling when I find Bryony, Minnie, Tatum, Lincoln, Asher, and Wylder waiting for me.

My gaze scans from one to the other, but the uncertainty, the wavering trust, it makes it impossible for me to say a word as I slip through all of them and race down the hall.

I hear them holler my name, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

My sneakers pound along the ground as I make it outside, turning toward the dorms without a second thought.

I don’t stop, not once, not even to look back over my shoulder.

My pace only slows when I battle the stairs leading up to my room, but before I can slam my bedroom door shut behind me, a foot lodges in the doorway, stopping my advances.

I gape with wide eyes, panic getting the better of me, but as I step back from the door, I realize it’s Tatum on the other side.

My heart races as he nudges the door open wider, just enough to slip through before he kicks it shut behind him.

“Polaris, what’s going on?”

I shake my head, the concern on his face doing nothing to calm the disarray inside of me.

“You need to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. We promised to keep you safe, even if you don’t like it,” he states, dropping his backpack by the door before lifting his hands in surrender.

I shake my head at him, disbelief coursing through my veins, and the anger, the rage that festers inside of me all focuses on this one matter.

Spinning away from him, I dart to my nightstand, finding exactly what I’m looking for before I eliminate the distance between us, slamming the object against his chest.

“Did you trick me with this?” I hiss, my face heating, and he blinks at me, confused.

“Sorry?”

“Did. You. Trick. Me. With. This?” I bite, and he gives me a pointed look while remaining calm.

“You’re going to have to explain a little more than that, Polaris,” he states, and I shake my head with irritation as I jab my finger against the journal between us.

“You told me this was safe.”

He frowns, searching my eyes for a moment longer before reluctantly looking at the item between us. Prying it from his chest, he runs his fingers over the spine, his brows furrowing before he peers back at me.

“Polaris, this isn’t the diary I gave you,” he murmurs, and my spine stiffens.

“Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not,” he insists, pressing his lips into a firm line as he turns the spine to me. “It’s similar, sure, but the engraving on my journals is always in silver, this is gold.”

His words spiral in my mind as I take the journal from his grasp. “This isn’t the diary you gave me?” I repeat, needing the extra clarification, and he shakes his head.

“No. What’s going on, Polaris?”

Holding the journal at arm’s length, I meet his stare. “Whitmore knew about this.”

I flick through the pages, desperate to find it before thrusting it in his face.

Dear Diary,

Men are dumb. Like, dumb dumb.

Why do I like assholes? I’m starting to think it’s a me issue and not a them issue because I can’t help but attract them, but worse than that, I crave their attention.

They’re not all assholes, but the balance is real.

I joked that Blaze could give Lincoln a run for his money when it came to his attitude, but it seems Lincoln is hot on Blaze’s heels for doing what he pleases without actually considering my feelings.

Knowing everything I know now, as jumbled as it still is, I think it’s clear to see that our lives are even more entangled than any of them could imagine. Especially Tatum and Blaze; they both hold the same coin I do.

It feels important, and I think I need to talk to one of them about it. Maybe Tatum, he’s the safer option. Either way, I’ll be sure to be back here tonight to report whether I’ve had to knee anybody in the balls or not.

Polaris x

Tatum takes the diary from my hands, closing it as he drops it on my bed before planting both of his hands on my shoulders.

“I swear to you, this isn’t the diary I gave you.

If he knows this, he has to be behind whoever switched the journals out because that’s the only explanation for what’s happened here.

” He speaks slowly, like he’s scared of making me skittish, but I nod, believing him.

I’m never writing in a diary ever again.

Never. Ever. Ever.

“But if he knows this,” I murmur, despair threatening to drag me under, but Tatum snaps me out of it as he grabs my chin and tilts my face to his.

“We’ll figure it out.” He says it with such certainty, so confidently, that it’s impossible to disagree.

But acknowledging his innocence also brings to light my lack of trust and unwarranted finger pointing. “I’m so sorry,” I rasp, and he wraps me in his arms, rocking me from side to side.

“Don’t be sorry, Polaris. Never be sorry. Not for this. Not when someone is violating your privacy. It’s not okay.”

I nod into his shoulder, taking a few calming breaths, and I can’t help but notice the fact that the usual guilt that would consume me doesn’t come. Instead, my breathing mellows out, my heartbeat calms to a normal rate, and I’m no longer lost to my emotions.

Leaning back, I look into Tatum’s eyes. “What do we do now?”

“We don’t do anything until you’re fully calmed down,” he states, and I roll my eyes.

“I actually am calm,” I insist, and he cocks a brow at me.

“Figuring this out isn’t going to be easy.

It’s going to be really shit, and honestly, it’s going to look like we’re doing nothing about it, but we are.

I promise.” I frown at him, confused with his train of thought as he continues.

“Step one is going to involve you continuing to write in that damn thing,” he states, and I start to shake my head, but he quickly cuts me off.

“Polaris, we want them to think that you don’t know. ”

I freeze. “Oh.”

A soft smile curls the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, oh. So, are we going to discuss what actually went down so we can figure it out? Together this time,” he clarifies, and I nod.

Wordlessly, he takes my hand as he kicks his shoes off. Positioning himself in the center of the bed, he maneuvers me around so I lay alongside him with my head resting on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat thump beneath me. It’s distracting and calming all at once.