Page 66 of The Drama King

No one came to check on me. The hallway outside remained silent except for the occasional footsteps of other residents. My phone stayed quiet too—Stephanie was dealing with gallery politics, Robbie trapped in corporate family obligations. I told myself it was for the best. They'd already risked too much by helping initially.

By the third morning, the heat was clearly receding. My temperature had dropped, the intensity of the symptoms diminished, and I could go longer between episodes of overwhelming need.

I was finally coherent enough to shower when my phone buzzed with texts from both friends:

Heat should be ending soon. I'll be back tonight around 8 with dinner.—Stephanie

How are you feeling? I'll stop by later to check on you.—Robbie

I typed back to both:Much better. See you later.

I set the phone aside, emotionally and physically drained. The heat was nearly over, but its implications would linger long after my body returned to normal. The Alphas now had confirmation of my cycle timing, another avenue of attack, another vulnerability to exploit. And despite having friends with resources most scholarship students could only dream of, I'd still faced the worst of it alone—not because they didn't care, but because even the best intentions couldn't overcome the realities of giving someone space during heat.

The isolation of the past few days had been necessary—Omegas in heat needed privacy and space—but it had also reinforced just how vulnerable I truly was when stripped of all support systems.

The pack had learned something valuable too: that even wealthy allies couldn't protect me during my most biologically vulnerable state. That knowledge would certainly be used against me next time.

twenty-five

Vespera

ThefirstsnowfallofDecember coated Northwood's campus in pristine white, transforming the gothic architecture into something magical. Students hurried between buildings wrapped in scarves and heavy coats, their breath fogging in the crisp air as finals preparations intensified around campus.

I pulled my threadbare wool coat tighter against the cold, grateful that the winter weather provided an excuse for extra layers. Five days had passed since my heat had finally broken, but I still felt raw and exposed, as if everyone who looked at me could somehow see what I'd been through during those three days of isolation.

The dining hall loomed ahead, its windows glowing with warm light that promised momentary escape from both the cold and my own spiraling thoughts. I'd barely eaten properly since returning to classes, surviving mostly on the granola bars and instant ramen I kept stocked in my dorm room. But my bodyneeded real nutrition, especially after the biological ordeal I'd just endured.

I hesitated at the entrance, scanning the crowded space through the glass doors. No sign of the pack at their usual corner table. Just the normal lunchtime chaos of students refueling between study sessions and final project presentations.

Taking a steadying breath, I pushed through the doors and made my way toward the sandwich station, keeping my head down and hoping to blend into the crowd. The familiar routine of ordering food felt almost normal—until I noticed the subtle shift in conversations around me.

Whispers. Glances. The kind of careful avoidance that spoke louder than any direct confrontation.

"...missed three days of classes..."

"...medical absence during finals prep..."

"...heard it was some kind of Omega thing..."

My cheeks burned as I realized the rumors had spread exactly as I'd feared. In the insular world of Northwood, a three-day medical absence for a scholarship student didn't go unnoticed. And while most people might not know the specific details, enough could be inferred from context to make me feel completely exposed.

I grabbed my sandwich and found an empty table in the corner, as far from the main social clusters as possible. The food tasted like cardboard, but I forced myself to eat methodically, trying to project an image of normalcy I didn't feel.

"Well, well. Look who's finally feeling better."

The smooth, cultured voice made me freeze mid-bite. I didn't need to look up to recognize Corvus's aristocratic tones, though I could smell his dark chocolate Alpha scent wrapping around me like expensive silk.

"Corvus." I kept my voice steady, though my pulse had immediately accelerated. "I'm just trying to eat lunch."

"Of course you are." He slid into the chair across from me without invitation, his movements elegant and predatory. "We were all so concerned about your sudden illness. Three whole days. That must have been... intense."

The emphasis on the last word sent ice through my veins. He knew. They all knew.

"Just a stomach bug," I said, taking another bite of sandwich to avoid meeting his dark eyes. "Nothing dramatic."

"Hmm." He studied me with that clinical detachment that made him so unsettling. "Funny how these sudden illnesses always seem to affect Omega students so much more severely than others. Almost like there's some biological component the rest of us don't experience."

I set my sandwich down, appetite completely gone. "What do you want, Corvus?"